Date: Sat, 25 Apr 2015 11:44:18 -0400 From: Paul Knoke Subject: INSTALLMENT TWENTY-TWO of "THE FATHER CONTRACT" INSTALLMENT TWENTY-TWO from THE FATHER CONTRACT by Arthur J. Arrington Edited Paul K. Scott Please consider making a donation to Nifty to keep our PJ's hopes alive and well! Remember, he needs all the help he can get to make his wish for a father come true! Chapter Forty-Two: To Play, or Not to Play. . . PJ rubbed a final bit of rosin on his bow, tucked his violin under his chin, and watched the older boy playing first chair in their quartet for his sign. The audience in the Gordonsville Auditorium got quiet. "One, two, three . . ." the boy counted softly, and the opening strains of Dvorak's "American Quartet" floated out into the Hall. As it always did, music lifted PJ out of himself, so he forgot about being nervous. Forgot, too, about all the other little things: did his chair squeak, was his tie straight, was his fly zipped up, was Billy bored, would Erik laugh if he made a mistake? Gone as well were classes, baseball, and even Jack. His concentration was total, the same as when he was swimming a race, or focused on catching a fly ball. Nothing existed but his instrument and the score in front of him. He almost did not need the score, having practiced his second violin part so often that he had most of it memorized. But he was glad to have it anyway because it gave him some place to focus his eyes. And even though he'd practiced hard, he still made mistakes. The score helped him recover and keep his place. PJ knew that he'd never be great at the violin, but he loved music and by working hard, he knew he could perform just well enough to be part of a group of better players. He tried to do his best now as he negotiated the tricky sections that gave him the most trouble. They came to his favorite part, the slow movement with the themes Dvorak had based on American spirituals. PJ liked it for the haunting melody itself, plus the slow parts that were easier for him to play. What genius! PJ often thought in awe. Dvorak . . . a foreign visitor . . . a stranger to the United States . . . . Yet during that short time, the composer had absorbed so much of everything he'd seen or heard, he'd created a masterwork with an American flavor! Without being aware of it, PJ always played better on this part because he was so taken with it. Their quartet, made up of the two violins, a viol, and a cello, wound its way through all four movements without PJ making any major errors. After its ending on a dramatic finale, the audience gave them a round of applause, to include Erik and Billy, up near the front, both grinning at PJ and clapping. "We never get as much applause as the pianists do," grumbled the older boy playing first violin. "Well, they're soloists," PJ whispered back, suppressing a smile because, as much as he envied the first violin's talent, he considered him an awful prima donna. The quartet members went back to their seats in the orchestra, while behind them a brass quintet took their place. As the brass players were doing their stuff, PJ looked out at the audience, made an estimate, and decided they had drawn a pretty good crowd for their recital. The recital was always scheduled for the Friday evening before Parents' Sports Day, which itself was always held on the Saturday before Fathers' Day. PJ considered this to be a clever strategy because lots of parents visited the school on that weekend to see the athletic contests, and many of them attended the recital while there. Over where Billy and Erik were sitting with Billy's two sisters and mother, Billy was watching the brass players with interest. At least he's not bored, thought PJ. Erik saw PJ looking their way and formed an "O" with his thumb and forefinger, pumped his other fist, and grinned. PJ grinned back, remembering that it'd been almost exactly on Parents' Sports Day the previous year that he had become Erik's roommate. Their friendship had developed while playing on the House baseball team together. When Erik's old roommate had transferred to another school, PJ had moved in with him. PJ remembered, too, what a nuisance Parents' Sports Day and Father's Day had been then. He recalled how he'd invented elaborate excuses to explain why no one was visiting him; how he'd suffered the hurt of sending off a Father's Day card to his parents without getting a reply. Not this year! This year there were no awkward questions; he needed no excuses. Everyone knew his parents were dead. Everyone knew that Jack couldn't visit because of baseball season. Some kids even envied him. Not everyone was thrilled by having their parents around. There were a number who wouldn't be at Gordonsville in the first place if their relationships with their mothers and fathers were any good. Idly, PJ watched Billy and Erik, wondering what they'd be doing for Father's Day. He hadn't talked to them about it, but almost certainly Billy's dad would have something planned, and he knew Bill was coming to see their baseball game tomorrow. Bill and Erik would probably go off together on Sunday. PJ smiled to himself. He had his own plan for Sunday--a plan he wasn't going to tell anyone about. He was going to surprise Jack, just the way he'd surprised him at the game when he and Erik had gone to New York. But this time he was going to be very careful to do it so Jack wouldn't be mad. He didn't want Jack to be angry again. PJ was anxious for Sunday to come. It had been more than a month since he had seen Jack. Except . . . except for that time at Travis' school. It was funny how he kept forgetting about that. But he'd only seen Jack for a few minutes then, so it hadn't really counted as a visit. Besides, Jack had been mad at him then. He punished me! If he chose to, PJ knew he could remember exactly what Jack had done. But he refused to let himself think of it. Jack's not mad at me now. He told me so! Everything's fine. Jack e-mails me every week. Everything's fine! Except . . . except. . . Jack's Son is dead . . . "No," PJ whispered, pushing dark fears away even as they came unbidden to his mind. He would NOT think of that. Everything's fine! The brass quintet finished to big applause. Horns and trumpets. Always popular, PJ reminded himself. The kids took their instruments back to their seats in the orchestra and PJ's music master stepped up to the podium, ready to conduct them in the final number on the program: Ralph Vaughan Williams' Folk Song Suite. PJ liked this number a lot. Vaughan Williams was another composer his music teacher had hooked him into and PJ had a CD of something called London Symphony with a slow movement that was supposed to depict a small boy sitting alone in front of a fireplace in a big house. PJ had done a lot of sitting alone in big rooms himself, and he absolutely related to the music. He often listened to the CD at night. As the title Folk Song Suite suggested, the Vaughn Williams' piece they were playing today was based on traditional English folk tunes. PJ thought it was lively and fun, so he liked playing it even though his violin part had been hard to learn. The audience seemed to like it too because they gave it a big applause at the end, and PJ stood up to bow with the rest of the orchestra. Then he packed up his violin carefully and went to find his friends. "That was good, PJ!" Erik exclaimed when PJ reached him through the crowd. "I couldn't tell how that American thing was gonna be from just what you were practicing. But when all four of you put it together, it's sounds great." "Yeah, PJ," Billy agreed, "ya' did good. And I liked the horn players, too. They were neat. Mom?" He pulled on his mother's sleeve. "Can I take trumpet lessons? They have them at school." "We'll see," Mrs. Thatcher told him, and turned to PJ. "That was wonderful. I'm so glad you invited us." "I'm just glad you came," PJ responded with a blush. "It was nice to have someone here to listen to us play." "Well, we appreciate it very much. It was wonderful. You boys should be very proud of doing so well. I wish my husband could have been here." "He and I are comin' to your game tomorrow, PJ," Billy said. "We'll come over soon as my game finishes." "I hope you get some good hits tomorrow, Billy. Remember what Erik taught you." "You taught me the most, PJ," the younger boy protested. "PJ, when are you gonna hit another home run? I wanna see you do it! I missed the one you hit before, the one at Travis' school." PJ frowned. Had he hit a home run? No. It was someone else. . . "The guy you wanna watch is Erik," he told Billy. "He's the guy with all the home runs. He hit a nice one last week, and I bet he gets another tomorrow. He always plays well when his dad comes to watch." Erik gave PJ a puzzled look and then told their young friend, "Don't you listen to him, Billy. PJ's just being modest. You watch. Tomorrow he'll be tearing up the field!" "Yeah!" Billy's eyes were shining as he looked up adoringly at his "older brothers," and swore to them, "I know! I'm gonna get a hit tomorrow for my mom and dad, and another for you. Then we'll come watch you guys win!" "You gotta cheer loud for us, Billy," Erik reminded him. "If we win, we make it to the League Tournament! First time in eight years!" "You'll win," Billy declared confidently. "You an' PJ are gonna beat 'em." After saying goodbye to Billy, his mother, and his sisters, Erik and PJ walked back to the House. "Big game tomorrow, PJ," Erik said quietly as they ambled along throufh the evening darkness. "If we can make it to the Tournament this year, it's a start. Maybe next year we can win something to put in that trophy case in the Field House." PJ nodded. "I'll be cheering for you, Erik. I hope they let you play the whole game." "PJ, you're good, too!" Erik insisted in exasperation. "I know you can play better than you have been. That home run you hit against Franklyn was fantastic! I was sure you'd end up being a starter. But since then, . . . "I got a single against Eagleton," PJ reminded him. Erik shook his head. "PJ? Why did you stop practicing wall ball with me, and doing the extra weight workouts?" His roommate shrugged. "I told you, Erik. I had to practice my violin. And final exams are coming up. I gotta study. Plus I wanted to work on a project for science, and I needed to get some time to go to the hobby shop for something special I've been making. There just wasn't enough time anymore. Anyhow, you're the ball player. I'm the swimmer, remember? You helped me get way better at baseball than I was last year, and Coach Lewis gets me into every game for a few innings. Sometimes more." Erik sighed. "Yeah, I know. You told me." Turning suddenly, he stared at his roommate. "PJ, what's wrong? What is it? Tell me! Look, I'm your best friend. You can fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. Tell me what it is!" PJ stared back in annoyance. "Stop acting crazy, Erik. There's nothing wrong." After looking him straight in the eyes a moment longer, Erik sighed again, and turned away. "Ever since that stupid Franklyn game, you've been different. I don't know exactly how to say it. But you're different." "Look, Erik," PJ patiently explained, "we won that game, remember? We all played well. And since then, we've been doing okay. We're winning games. There's nothing wrong." "Okay, PJ," Erik said in resignation. "Listen: promise me that tomorrow you'll really try to kick some butt. We just have to win." "I always try my best, Erik," PJ answered. "Yeah," Erik agreed in a puzzled way. "I know that. That's what has me confused." They went up to their room and PJ settled in front of his computer. Oughta e-mail Jack, he thought. Tell him about the recital. He always likes to hear about stuff I've been doin'. Typing happily away, PJ composed a short note giving Jack some details about the concert. He finished with: "Remember when you were here for Christmas, Jack? I played the violin in church. I was even better today. You would have liked it. Erik and Billy did. They both say Hi. We have a big game tomorow, so wish me luck. Erik is probably going to play the whole game. He is really doing well. I wish I could play as well as he does, but it's okay - I'm doing better than last year! I'm having fun. I hope to see you soon. Maybe sooner than you think. I may try to suprise you, but don't worry, I won't do anything dumb like last time. Good luck in your game, too. Your friend PJ." He sent the message off after reading it over to be certain he'd said nothing weird. Jack didn't like him being weird. Jack wanted him to have fun with his baseball and be a regular kid. He'd said so. And anyway, PJ tried to assure himself as he pushed away certain dark thoughts that lurked in the corners of his mind, everything's all right. Erik needed to mind his own business! Everything's fine. Admiring his message one last time, he smiled. Naturally, Jack would wonder what the surprise was going to be. That was part of the fun! PJ couldn't wait for Sunday when he could show him. And Jack would like it so much . . . He had to. He just had to. . . Jack's not mad at me anymore . . He said so. An' he told me to e-mail him. An' he e-mails me back, so everything's alright . . . Week after week, PJ had faithfully e-mailed Jack on a daily basis, sending short little notes about all his doings, and there had been no shortage of things to tell hem about: Riverside Heights School had bused to Gordonsville for a baseball game and an overnight. As he'd feared, PJ's friend Skip hadn't made the travel team, but Eddie, the tall red-headed basketball player whom Erik knew, had come, and had slept in their room. He and Erik had stayed up late that night laughing and talking, mostly about kids they both knew from basketball. PJ had played some video games with them, but mostly had stayed out of their way, disappointed that Skip couldn't have made the trip. In his e-mail to Jack the next night, he'd mentioned Skip and asked Jack to send him an autographed baseball card if he still had his address. "He likes baseball and is trying hard," he'd written. "Maybe he could use a little encouragement." Travis had come to Gordonsville for a track tri-meet invitational. Erik and PJ had been away at another baseball game so they'd missed him, but Billy and his dad had gone to the meet, cheering while Travis ran the hurdles and competed in the high jump. "Travis won the high jump again," PJ had e-mailed to Jack. "He's convinced Billy is a good-luck charm and wishes he could be at every meet. Billy thinks Travis is the greatest. Travis mailed Billy a new skateboard that he and Coach Drew bought as a present for him so he can ride with me and Erik." That weekend, Billy, Erik, and PJ had spent time skateboarding together. Then Erik and PJ had gone with Billy's dad to one of Billy's coach-pitch games, where Billy made good plays at third base and got two hits. After his team won, they celebrated with a hamburger and hotdog cookout in Billy's backyard. PJ had faithfully recounted all this to Jack. And Jack had messaged back to PJ. At least once a week, PJ would find e-mail from Jack in his box. The notes, always encouraging and upbeat, often included a few comments on PJ's news. He sometimes wished Jack would say more personal things about himself, but he was happy to get anything because it meant Jack was not angry with him anymore. Wait till I surprise him on Sunday! PJ could hardly wait to put his plan into effect. He sat back in his chair, visualizing again exactly how he hoped it would be when he gave Jack the card and the special present he'd made. Jack would pick him up in a big hug. "You're the best son in the world, Little Champ!" PJ closed his eyes, wanting to pretend that he could feel Jack's arms around him. . . . But instead, the vague, threatening shapes circling at the edges of thought came in closer. . . You can't make Jack's Son alive again! No! Opening his eyes to see the smiling image on his Jack Canon poster, PJ thrust those thoughts away. He doodled around at his desk for awhile and then pulled out his classwork for the weekend, deciding to get it out of the way while he had the time. There wasn't much! Because of the special holiday, the masters had only given token assignments, so after polishing them off, he put everything aside, ready for Monday. PJ liked to be organized, and always kept up with his studies, although recently it'd been out of habit rather than a desire to excel. He could vaguely recall a time when he had felt differently, when he'd felt more driven to achieve. But that seemed a very long time ago, unreal, as if it had all happened to a different person. Once, he'd hoped that if he did well in school, his parents might love him. He'd learned how foolish that'd been. No one really knew or cared what he did. Now, PJ spent most of his studying time only on things that were of interest to him. He knew he'd do well enough on his exams no matter what. And even if he didn't, what difference would it make? Jack never asked about his grades. He might notice if PJ flunked out of school, but that was all. PJ got up from his desk and glanced over at Erik, who was on his bed reading one of his Heinlein books. His roommate was taking this baseball game tomorrow way too seriously. It would be nice to win. But if they didn't, so what? Who would know or care? The main thing was to get the game over with so he could put his plan into effect for seeing Jack. He would never say that to Erik, though. He liked his friend too much to want to hurt him and he'd promised his roommate to try and do better. He would pretend to be excited, go through the motions. But he played now mainly because he happened to love the game. Winning or losing was unimportant. From his closet he brought out the glove Jack had given him. It was nice, and although he still liked his old one best, Jack's glove fit better, which was why he kept using it. He scrounged around in his dresser drawer for the bottle of neat's-foot oil he and Erik shared, grabbed the oily rag balled up behind it, sat down on his bed, stretched the rag out, and began applying the preservative. As the pungent odor filled the room, Erik looked up and said, "That's a good idea, PJ. I better do mine too." He got his glove out, borrowed the rag from PJ, and started rubbing. "Gee, I hope I do well tomorrow. Bill's comin' up for the game. I always like to play good when he's watching me." "You'll do great," PJ assured him. "I've got that feeling." Erik grinned at him. "Thanks. I bet you do good too. Maybe you'll come out and really belt one tomorrow. Hey, I bet you wish Jack could be here! You know he would be, too, if he didn't have to play down in Philly." PJ only nodded and said tonelessly, "Yup. He would be." Watching Erik work on his glove, he felt no envy about Bill coming to the game. Erik would worry all night now about how he would do, and that if he made an error tomorrow, he would be embarrassed because Bill was watching. PJ was just as glad that no one was watching him. He would play the game because he enjoyed it, and if he did well, fine. And if he didn't, well, . . . that was okay, too. No one would be disappointed. It would all right. Everything's all right! He put his glove away, checked to be sure his uniform was ready, and got prepared for bed. Once he was under the covers, he read for a bit--a collection of sports stories that he'd found in the library. At last he fell asleep. * * * Erik stayed awake, reading. Nervous about the game, he had trouble settling down, but finally drifted off, reading light still on, book open on his chest. When a noise awakened him, he lifted his head with a jerk, staring around for a moment before remembering where he was. He put his book away, turned out the reading light, and was just getting comfortable when he heard muttering. It was PJ. Sitting up again, he swung his legs out and perched on the edge of his bed. By the glow of his roommate's little nightlight, he could see PJ tossing restlessly, muttering something else. Erik was unsure what to do. For weeks now, ever since the game at Travis' school, PJ had been restless at night. But it was not the kind of bad dreams that had tortured him in the past; the kind that woke him up shouting and crying. Now whatever was bothering PJ only made him toss, mumbling incoherently. It happened night after night, almost always loud enough to wake Erik at least once. He had no idea if he should tell someone or not. His attempts to talk to PJ only met a stone wall. His roommate was unwilling to admit that anything was wrong, and yet Erik was sure that something was wrong. In some way that he couldn't clearly define, PJ was different. Erik could see it only because he knew his friend so well. To everyone else he seemed exactly the same, but Erik was sure something had changed. It was almost as if PJ no longer cared about things. But whenever Erik tried to talk to him, or pin him down, PJ insisted everything was alright. PJ turned again in his sleep, uttering words repeatedly that Erik couldn't make out. What's wrong, PJ? Erik desperately wanted to do something, but there didn't seem to be any way he could get into PJ's mind. There hadn't been many friends in Erik's lonely life. He was an only child, PJ was the closest thing to a brother he would ever have, and he didn't want anything bad happening to him. Was it something to do with Jack? Erik had asked himself that question a hundred times over. But it couldn't be. Jack was e-mailing PJ every week. Erik had checked. And it couldn't be anything at school. PJ had excellent grades; he was doing fine in all his classes, and he was playing well enough on the baseball team, even though Erik was convinced he could do better. What was it? PJ thrashed, muttering again. Getting up and going over to kneel by his friend's bed, Erik gently touched PJ's shoulder and whispered, "PJ, it's Erik. Tell me what's wrong." PJ's eyes flew open, staring sightlessly at a point behind Erik's back. The sudden movement startled Erik enough so that he glanced quickly over his shoulder to see if anyone was actually there. There was only his empty bed against the wall. "PJ, what is it?" Erik whispered again. "He can't find me," PJ said distinctly. "Who, PJ?" Erik leaned closer. "Who can't find you?" "He can't find me," PJ insisted. "He'll never come." "It's all right, PJ," Erik told him soothingly. He stroked his friend's arm. "It's all right." As Erik kept whispering and stroking, PJ's eyes closed. Finally, when his friend was breathing peacefully and lying still, Erik pulled the disheveled covers back up over PJ's shoulders and climbed back into his own bed. Please be all right, PJ, he prayed as he closed his own eyes. Later, long after Erik was asleep, PJ turned again. He moaned softly, and in a high, soft voice--the voice of a very young, lost child--he cried, "Daddy? Daddy? Please find me. Please come." He thrashed, mumbled again . . . and the words trailed off. . . . * * * The next morning, both PJ and Erik nearly slept through breakfast. PJ woke first, caught sight of the time on his bedside clock and thought, Uh-oh! We're gonna miss breakfast. "Hey, Erik!" He threw a pillow at his sleeping roommate. "What?" Erik turned over and looked at the clock. "Oh, wow!" "Yeah!" PJ told him. "Better hurry!" They pulled on their clothes and raced over to the Dining Hall, just in time to catch the last breakfast-serving before the line closed. "I didn't think I was that tired last night, but I must have been," PJ said between bites of toast. "I guess the recital wore me out." "I don't know why I was so tired." Erik spooned up more cereal. "I didn't even do anything." He decided to say nothing to PJ about what had happened during the night. Back at the House, and after they got cleaned up, Erik went downstairs to watch for Bill, while PJ took advantage of his absence to check preparations for his trip to surprise Jack. First, he went to the Red Sox site on the Internet to double check the times for the game on Sunday. He had been considering his get-away scheme ever since noticing that the Red Sox were playing the Philadelphia Phillies in Interleague play the weekend of Father's Day. The e-mail he'd received from Travis saying that he and Coach Drew were attending the game on Sunday solidified the plan in his mind. He would simply go to the game with them. Jack would believe that PJ was in Philadelphia visiting Travis; Travis would believe that PJ was visiting Jack. Neither would know that PJ had arranged the trip on his own. He'd e-mailed Travis immediately, telling him that Jack was having him down to visit for Father's Day and asking Travis to send his seat locations so that they could meet at the game. Travis had sent the information right back, adding, "We're going to the game early to meet Jack and be his guests in the dugout. Meet us there. This is going to be fun! See you soon. Travis." After confirming that he had the times correct, PJ checked his wallet. There was eighty-six dollars that he'd saved from his allowance money. Probably enough, he assured himself. He intended to bring no baggage except the paper bag with the card and his present for Jack. The key to the plan was to somehow hitch a ride to Wilkes-Barre that evening. He already knew that was where Greyhound had bus service to Philadelphia. Glancing around, he made a final check, though he was sure there was nothing he'd missed. Everything was set: change in the room right after the game, then disappear in the Sports Day crowd of parents and students. The cover story for Erik would be that he was spending Father's Day with Billy and his dad. Erik would probably be so busy with Bill that he wouldn't worry too much. If the plan worked right, PJ was sure he could be back Sunday night before he was missed. Now he had to kill time. Their Middle School game didn't start until after lunch. He went downstairs, only to find that parents were everywhere, most of them early arrivals for the house matches being held that morning. Slipping away, avoiding Erik or anyone else he knew, PJ wandered over to the Quad, circling it twice before settling for a rest on the same Chapel step were he and Jack had once sat talking. That was when Jack came for Erik's basketball game. PJ counted on his fingers. Five months ago! It seems just yesterday! What a school year it's been! And now it's within a few weeks of being over. He decided to visit all the places where he and Jack had been. It'll be almost be like having him here. An imaginary visit. "Remember when you were here on Christmas, Jack?" PJ said, pretending Jack was sitting next to him. "And you brought my snowboard? And I played my violin, and you liked it? We sure had a nice time." Getting up, he started around the Quad again, passing the Dining Hall. "Remember the big Christmas dinner, Jack? You made a good speech." Some people walked by. One of them, seeing a boy talking to himself, stared curiously, but PJ paid no notice. He walked across to the Field House. "Lots of memories here, Jack," PJ went up the broad stairs into the big foyer where several people were looking in the trophy cases. "Remember all the autographs you signed here, Jack?" PJ whispered this, chuckling a little. No one was using the pool that morning. Pushing through the double doors that opened onto the top of the stands, PJ glanced around, then perched on the end of a bleacher row. "This is right where you sat that time you quoted the poem by Kipling." PJ stared down at the still, flat surface of the pool. Light pouring through the huge glass windows reflected off the water onto the walls. "I wonder if I really am a little part of it now, like you told me." He remained quiet for a time, just enjoying being with Jack. He always felt so comfortable with him. When he finally got up and went back into the foyer, the big high-ceiled area was deserted. Smiling up at his imaginary companion, PJ said, "We always have a good time when we're together, don't we, Jack?" He led the way to the other side of the building, into the enormous Field House arena. An intramural track meet was in progress, groups of parents scattered through the stands. Taking a long route around the edge of the seating area, keeping out of the way, he got to the far side from the door and sat at the end of the bleachers. With all the track and field activity, no one paid him any attention. "There's the wall you told Erik and me to practice on, remember?" PJ whispered. "And it was right here on this bench that you told me I was your son." Jack turned to look sadly at PJ. "My son is dead." "No," PJ whispered, "I'm here. Come find me." Putting his head down to hide the tears in his eyes, PJ remained sitting, staring at the ground, for several minutes. When he looked up again, a race was going by on the indoor track. There was no sign of Jack. He got up, made his way back around the edge of the arena to the doors, and then on outside. Walking down to the Middle School diamond, he found a house match was in progress which he watched for awhile, remembering the one he'd played in the year before. Then he wandered out toward the Hill where he and Erik had so often gone with the snowboard. The slope looked completely different now, all covered with grass and wildflowers. PJ searched in vain for the hummock Jack had used as a ramp to demonstrate his mid-air flip. There was nothing that even resembled it. Maybe I dreamed that, PJ thought. The sun was higher now; it was time to get back. PJ headed for campus, passing even more groups of students and parents on the Quad. In the common room of his House, which was crowded with people, PJ saw Mr. Williamson talking to several parents by the window. Bill and Erik were nowhere about, and upstairs, the room was deserted. PJ took his book of sports stories off the shelf, stretched out on his bed, and began to read. At noon it was time to change into his baseball uniform and have lunch at the Dining Hall before going down to the field. Once he was dressed, he examined his reflection in the mirror over his desk, then looked at his Jack Canon poster, staring at it for a long time as he so often did. Jack grinned at him, exactly as PJ had seen him do so many times. "Anything's Possible," PJ heard him say. "I'll always believe, Jack," he whispered in reply. He was just about to go out the door when footsteps thudded on the stairs and Erik burst into the room. "There you are! Geez, PJ, I've been looking all over for you. Here!" He held out a big bag of fast food. "Don't even bother with that Dining Hall today! Bill and I got this for you. We wanted you to go with us but I couldn't find you." Then Bill entered. "PJ!" He picked the boy up, gave him a big hug, and gently slapped him on his back. "How are you? Big game today!" Putting PJ back on his feet, the big burley man said, "Hey, I bet Jack wishes he could be here! You'll have to e-mail him right after the game to tell him how you made out." PJ answered this with a simple "I will, Bill." Meanwhile, Erik was hurriedly undressing and getting into his uniform. "We beat Perry School today and we get to the League Tournament for the first time in eight years!" he exclaimed. "You know Jack will want to know about that!" "I just have a feeling about you guys today, " Bill said. "Hey!" Erik pulled up his uniform pants. "We beat 'em in football . . ." "We beat 'em in swimming . . ." PJ continued, smiling, "We beat 'em in basketball . . ." Erik crowed, "And we'll beat 'em today!" PJ finished triumphantly. "Except, Erik, I think they actually beat us in football." "A mere detail." Erik waved a hand. "Next year you and I will beat 'em in that too, for sure. Eat that food, PJ. Get fueled up. I think you're gonna do good today. Anyone that plays the violin as well as you do should have no trouble hitting a baseball!" When PJ balled up a hamburger wrapper and threw it at him, Bill asked, "What am I missing here?" So Erik told him about PJ's recital the night before. Bill exclaimed, "And I wasn't there! Erik, why didn't you tell me about it? Your mom and I would have both come. PJ, I think it's great that you have such an interest in music. I wish Erik did. I can't get him interested at all." "Bill thinks I'm growing up to be a complete barbarian," Erik said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Yeah. But somehow I love him just the same." Bill went over, hugged Erik, and Erik gave him a hug back. PJ chewed and swallowed his food in silence. "Come on, PJ," Erik said, putting on his cap and grabbing his glove, "let's go kick some butt." The two boys clattered down the House stairs in their baseball shoes with Bill trailing behind. From the boys in the Common Room came a chorus of "Good Luck" which followed them out the front door. At the Field House when they walked by, PJ saw three buses parked in front. "All the visiting teams," Erik remarked, pointing. "The varsity baseball and track teams are playing today, too. We probably won't draw much of a crowd." When they got down to the Middle School field, Bill gave both of them a pat. "Good luck, boys. PJ, I'll stand in for Jack today. I know he'd want me to. You'll hear me cheering!" "Thanks, Bill." PJ smiled politely. After checking in with Coach Lewis, the boys started warming up, playing catch first, and then taking fly balls in the outfield. Finally, when the Perry team trooped down from their locker room, and the Gordonsville players let them have the field, PJ sat with Erik in the dugout, watching. Erik recognized several boys he knew from basketball. "They're pretty good," PJ said. "Yeah, but we'll beat 'em," Erik confidently declared. When Coach Bates read off the starting lineup, one of the names he called out was "Jantzen, second base." Erik's face lit up. "I'm starting!" he whispered softly to PJ. PJ gave him a little punch on the arm. "Way to go, Erik." "PJ, you'll probably substitute in right field," Coach Lewis told him as the Gordonsville starters went out to take final warm-up. "Okay." PJ didn't much care where he played, just so he got into the game somewhere. He settled himself on the dugout bench to watch Erik. His friend looked sharp at second as the infielders tossed a ball around. I hope he has a good game today, he thought. It means a lot to him. Out in right field was Seth, the boy he would probably substitute for, one of the thirteen-year-olds. In a way, PJ was glad not to be starting. That way I can play in the last part of the game and be in at the finish, he mused. From the very first pitch the contest was a battle. Perry's leadoff batter drag-bunted for a base hit on the Gordonsville pitcher's first offering, and stole second on the next. Several batters later, he scored his team's first run on a two-out single. Gordonsville answered with their own run on a walk and a triple. From then on, the score seesawed back and forth as both teams used every trick in the playbook to get on base and make it around to score. PJ was glad to see that Erik was having a pretty good game. Batting in the eighth position, his roommate singled his first time up, got to third on a walk and a wild pitch, and ultimately scored on a sacrifice fly. When Erik made a few nifty defensive plays at second base, PJ cheered along with the rest of the subs on the bench. Otherwise he sat quietly, except when Erik elbowed him now and then as a reminder to make noise when Gordonsville was at bat. Although he sorta wanted to play, he found it difficult to work up much interest in the action because mostly he just wanted it to end so he could leave on his trip. Winning or losing was of no real importance to him. Either way, he knew the season was almost over. "Man, this is some game, PJ!" Erik told him excitedly. "Yeah," PJ replied, forcing a grin, pretending to be excited too. In the bottom of the fourth inning, with the game half over and Gordonsville up by a run, Coach Lewis sat down next to PJ. "The boy you're supposed to go in for, Seth, is playing pretty well," he said quietly, "and his parents are in the stands today visiting him. So Coach Bates wants to keep him in for at least one more inning so he can have another at-bat. You don't mind, do you, PJ?" PJ smiled and shook his head. "It's all right, Coach. I'll do whatever you want. Whatever's best for the team." "Thanks PJ." The young coach gave him a little pat on the head. "I know you want to play." "I don't care," PJ said with a shrug, staring out at the field. Coach Lewis looked startled for a moment. "That's something I never thought I'd ever hear you say." He frowned in a puzzled way. "Are you feeling all right, PJ?" When PJ just shrugged and kept looking at the field, the coach got up, shaking his head. "We'll see how the game goes." Seth reached on an error that inning, another Gordonsville player scoring on the play. The game remained thrillingly close with both teams trading the lead back and forth. Out-by-out, the fifth and sixth innings slipped by. PJ's name wasn't called. When Erik came off the field into the dugout at the bottom of the sixth, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Man, I'm glad we got out of that! I thought we'd never get that last out!" Perry had just scored three runs to tie the game. "Hey Coach," Erik called to Mr. Bates, who was walking by with his clipboard, "when are you gonna put PJ in the game?" The heavyset man glanced down for a moment, and checked his score sheet. "You're spot will be up in the bottom of the seventh," he told PJ. "I'll try to get you in then." "Gee, PJ," Erik said, looking at his roommate ruefully, "I'm sorry." PJ smiled and shrugged. "It's okay. At least I'll get a chance to bat. The main thing is for us to win the game." "Yeah, but. . ." Erik waved his hands helplessly. "I know what you're saying. But, you're better than that other kid, PJ! I want us to win the game together!" "His parents are here," PJ explained, simply. Watching the Gordonsville hitters, PJ cheered each time Erik did. When Gordonsville got a man on base with just one out, Erik told PJ, "Here we go," then groaned when the next batter struck out. He got up. "I'm on deck." PJ gave his roommate a nudge on his shoulder, telling him softly, "Be a hitter, Erik." Erik grinned in reply. Grabbing a helmet and his bat, he went out to the on-deck circle. The boy in front of Erik walked, putting runners on first and second with two outs. This brought the Gordonsville dugout to life. "Let's go Er-ik, let's go Er-ik," the team chanted, stamping their feet. The crowd in the stands took up the cheer as well, with PJ shouting along with the rest. Erik squared his sturdy shoulders, settled the batting helmet firmly on his head, and stepped into the batter's box. Perry's pitcher, an older boy with a good fastball, made the same mistake pitchers had been making all season with both Erik and PJ. Because Erik was a bit smaller than his older teammates and batting low in the order, the pitcher assumed he was a weak hitter. He tried to blow Erik out with his fastball. "Tang!" Erik had turned on the pitch and slammed a line drive out to the left centerfield fence, which easily scored the runner on second. And then Gordonsville got a break. The centerfielder, finally getting control of the ball, attempted to throw Erik out at second instead of hitting his cutoff man or throwing home. Erik slid into the bag safely for his double, while the boy who'd been on first came all the way around and scooted home on the play, scoring yet another run! The Gordonsville dugout and the bleachers erupted in cheers as Erik bounced to his feet, dusted himself off, and with a big smile raised his fist in a victory salute. The next batter struck out to end the inning, but Gordonsville was back in the lead by two runs. PJ was out in front of the dugout with everyone else to congratulate his friend when he trotted in. He handed Erik his glove. "Gotta hold 'em now, Erik," he yelled. "Aren't you going in?" "Not yet. Never mind about that. Get these guys out." Erik nodded and ran off toward second base. The following half-inning was tense. Perry was just as anxious to win as Gordonsville. Coming up for their last at-bat, they were determined to at least tie the score. Seth, still playing right field, got the first out with a nice catch on a high fly ball. I could have gotten that, thought PJ, but it will sure make his parents happy. It was a good beginning, but then the outs got tougher. The next two batters hit back-to-back singles. A run scored on a wild pitch that left a runner on second. Suddenly the Gordonsville lead was cut in half with only one out. Luck was with Gordonsville when the next batter hit a hard line drive that went right to the third baseman's glove, hitting it with a resounding "Whop!" The boy took his hand out, shaking it in pain. There were now two outs. But the Perry boy on second still represented the tying run! The next player stepping up to the plate was a tall, rangy kid who'd been hitting well for Perry all day. Coach Bates waved his infield and outfield back. Thus it was no wonder that when the kid laid a bunt down on a 2-1 count, it took everyone by surprise. But again, Gordonsville got a break. Instead of going up the baseline, the blunt was hit too hard and scooted into the infield. Erik reacted faster than anyone. He charged the ball, scooped it up, and without breaking stride threw a bullet to first base. Only a perfect play could have gotten the out--and Erik made it! The throw beat the runner by a hair's breath. The umpire called, "Yer' out!", and the game was over! Gordonsville had won! The Gordonsville players all threw their gloves in the air as the stands erupted in cheers. They mobbed Erik, pounding him on the back. PJ ran out of the dugout with the other subs to join the celebration. "The first time in eight years!" Coach Lewis was shouting as he clapped all his young players on the back. "Yee-e00-00w-www-iiiie-eeee!" Erik howled. He threw his arms around PJ, hugging him. "Tournament, here we come!" "Way to go, Erik!" Excited for his friend, PJ was pounding him on the back. "What a beautiful play!" "But you never got a chance to get in," Erik said, letting go of PJ to stare at him. "So what?" PJ answered. "We won. That's the important thing. Maybe I'll play in the Tournament." "Yeah!" Erik's smile beamed out again. "You bet you will. And we'll be in it together, just like we planned." Breaking clear of the celebrating players, they went to where Bill was waiting on the sidelines, smiling from ear to ear. He picked up Erik in a huge bear hug. "Hey!" Erik laughed, "Watch out! Don't kill me, Dad!" "Wow, what a play!" Bill gazed at his son lovingly. "Have I got the greatest little ball player in the world for a son or don't I?" While PJ watched, stepdad and son hugged each other again. When Bill finally put Erik on the ground, the boy said, "Dad, they didn't give PJ a chance to play. It wasn't fair!" "Say, that's right." Bill turned to look at PJ with concern. "What's up with that, PJ? Why wouldn't they let you play?" PJ shrugged. "They didn't need me to substitute today. It's okay. I've played in lots of the other games. And anyway, I haven't hit so good lately." "But PJ was just in a slump. He's good enough to be in there!" Erik said. "That's wrong. They should let him play." "Yeah, I don't understand it." Bill was puzzled. "But I guess the coaches know what they're doing." He patted PJ on the shoulder. "I know you must be disappointed, PJ. But don't worry. If you're good, they'll play you. I know you're a good sport. Just hang in there and they'll give you your chance." "It's okay," PJ assured him with a smile. "I didn't mind." Bill was already looking back at Erik. "This is a big occasion. How should we celebrate it?" Throwing his arm around PJ's shoulder, Erik yelled, "Pizza! Right, PJ?" PJ gently disengaged himself from Erik's grasp. "Gee, I'd like to, but I'm supposed to go somewhere with Billy and his dad after the game." "Why don't you all come with us?" Bill suggested. "Where is Billy anyway?" Erik was looking around. "I thought he was going to be here." Just at that moment they heard a shrill voice calling, "Erik! PJ!," and saw Billy pushing toward them in the crowd. He was dressed in his baseball uniform, carrying his glove. "Erik! Erik! I saw you win!" The little boy came running up to them to give Erik a high-five. Behind him, pushing past excited spectators, his father was right on his heels. "We made it just barely in time for that last inning," Mr. Thatcher said, shaking hands with Bill. He gave both Erik and PJ a little hug. "Erik, what a beautiful play. PJ, how did you do? I know you guys must be proud of yourselves. You're in that League Tournament now, right?" Before PJ could say anything, Billy grabbed his hand. The youngster was dancing with excitement. "PJ, PJ, guess what? I hit a home run! You shoulda' seen it! I did it just like you showed me." "Way to go, Billy!" PJ gave the boy's shoulder's a squeeze and clapped him on the back. "Did you get the ball?" "Yeah, we got it for him," his dad said proudly. "It's in the car." "Billy, you have to put the game and the date on it and save it," PJ told him. "You gotta put it next to your trophy." Billy nodded, grinning at him in delight. "You should have seen it, PJ," Mr. Thatcher said. "He gave it that beautiful little swing you and Erik taught him. And the thing just sailed over the fence. You would've loved it." "My dad was right there when I did it!" Billy told them all proudly. "As if I'd be anywhere else!" His father picked up his little son and hugged him. "When my ball player is up, I want to be there every time!" "Hey, that's two great things to celebrate!" Erik shouted over the crowd noise that still surrounded them. "Come on! I hear a giant pepperoni pizza calling my name." "Yeah! Pizza!" Billy yelled. "This place is mobbed today. I had to park a mile away," Billy's father said to Bill. "We'll all go in my car," Mr. Fournier, Erik's stepdad, told him. "Come on, PJ!" Erik and Billy sprinted off through the crowd, with PJ trotting reluctantly after them, knowing he was trapped. He would have to find a chance to sneak away after the pizza party on his secret trip to see Jack. There was no other choice. They ended up driving to the big pizza place beyond the airport where they had once gone with Jack. Billy and Erik played video games, with PJ joining in, and they demolished several huge pizzas. PJ kept looking at the clock, anxious to get started on his journey. At last, having stuffed themselves and played all the video games, everyone piled into Bill's car and they headed back to the school. "Well this was a great day. One we'll all remember," Bill said when they turned in at the Gordonsville gates. "Boy, I'll say," Erik said, "our first tournament in eight years!" "And Billy's first home run!" PJ exclaimed, ruffling the younger boy's hair. "I hope we'll all make lots more tournaments. And hit lots more home runs!" Erik wished happily. Bill was nodding in agreement. "I think this may be just the start," he told them. "Erik, I think you and PJ could really take this school places in lots of sports over the next few years." "And Billy too," PJ said. "Why not? Would you like to go to Gordonsville, Billy?" Billy nodded eagerly. "I wanna be on a team with you and Erik." But his father shook his head. "I'm afraid this place is a little beyond our means." "Maybe not," PJ whispered very softly to no one in particular. Bill parked near the House and when they got out, Mr. Thatcher explained that he had to get Billy home. After saying goodby, the young boy and his dad went to find their car, while PJ and Erik ran up to their room to change. "Bill's taking me to a movie tonight," Erik said. "Come with us, PJ." Now it's ruse time, PJ thought. He looked at his roommate. "Gee, I'd like to Erik. But I promised Billy I'd come over later. I think I may spend the night if I can. Will you cover for me? He and his dad and I are doing something special tomorrow." Erik stared, taken by surprise. "You never said anything about that. Gosh, PJ. I was hoping you could come with me and Bill tomorrow. I know he has something nice planned to surprise me." "Thanks anyway, Erik." Under different circumstances, PJ knew he really would have been grateful. "But I'm all set. Just cover for me tonight, okay?" "Sure, OK." Erik was obviously disappointed, but answered, "I'll do it. I hope you guys have fun. I know you wish Jack was here. I'm sure he wishes he were here with you, too." "Yeah. I know he does," PJ replied, feigning disappointment of his own. Once Erik had left, PJ shucked his uniform, grabbed a towel, and ran down the hallway to the bathroom for a shower. He was in a fever of anxiety to get away. A bus trip to Philly was only a few hours, PJ knew that perfectly well, and Jack's game wasn't until the next day. Probably he had a ton of time. But who knew for sure? Any minute Mr. Williamson might find some way to trap him here. Erik had already tried. And maybe there weren't that many busses on a weekend. Maybe on a Sunday there weren't any! And maybe the ones they had made ten million stops and took forever to go anywhere. PJ wasn't taking any chances. No matter what, he was determined to go find Jack. I'm gonna give him his present! Nothing, nothing, must stop him. The sooner he left, the better. Under the gushing hot water of the shower, PJ resolutely pushed aside whatever uncertainties still lurked in his mind. Jack would be glad to see him. Of course he would! And when he got his present, when he saw what it was, . . . everything would be fixed! Wouldn't it be? "Yes," he whispered as he dried off. "Yes, it has to . . ." But anxiety persisted, and new guilt over his treatment of Coach Lewis and Erik wasn't helping. He knew he'd let Coach Lewis down . . . and Coach Lewis had been noting but nice to him all season! And now he'd just lied to his best friend! PJ closed his eyes tight, balling his fists. Later! I'll fix it later! First I'm going to find Jack! Finishing his washing and drying up, he raced back to the room, towel fluttering. He got dressed in one of the cool-looking outfits Jack had helped him pick out, and after checking to be sure he had his wallet, he snuck cautiously downstairs clutching the paper bag containing Jack's card and present. Now was not the time to run into Mr. Williamson! Avoiding students and parents, he slipped out of the House, hustled over to the parking areas by the Upper School, and there began approaching people to ask for a lift. "Can you help me out? I've got to get to Wilkes-Barre to catch a bus to Philadelphia. I'm supposed to meet my folks there, but my ride left without me!" He finally found an older student named Carl who was heading in that direction. Carl was friendly enough, especially when his little hitchhiker offered to help pay for the gas. PJ got into the car with him, and they drove off. It was around 6 P.M. just as the sun was starting to go down. As they left the Gordonsville campus behind, Carl cranked up the volume on the Green Day CD he had in his player. But PJ barely heard the music because he was thinking only of the journey he was starting. Tomorrow, Billy would be spending Father's Day with his dad, Erik would be with Bill, and now he was on his way to be with his "dad" as well. I'm going to find Jack, he kept happily telling himself. But then, very softly, in words lost in the sounds of Billie Joe Armstrong's "When I Come Around," he whispered, "Please . . .", because though the Jack he wanted so badly to find was the one who called him "Little Champ" and was always so glad to see him, he was frightened of instead finding the other Jack--the one who treats me like a nuisance . . . * * * CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT TWENTY-TWO Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com I appreciate any comments you want to make!