INSTALLMENT SIX

 

THIS IS WHAT I DID TODAY!

 

from

 

THE FATHER CONTRACT

 

By Arthur J. Arrington

 

Edited by Paul K. Scott

 

Nifty would very much appreciate any donation could fire their way to keep this wonderful story about PJ and his friends up and running!

Chapter Thirteen: This Is What I Did Today!

That weekend, PJ was as happy as he had ever been in his short life.

His contentment had little to do with all the attention he'd received as a result of Jack's visit. He enjoyed the attention while it lasted, but he knew that after a few days, it would pass, and it did.

Much more important was the relief he felt at no longer having to keep secrets, make excuses, and otherwise conceal the shame of not possessing some interested adult who cared about him. Jack's visit had released him, at least temporarily, from the need to be constantly braced for unexpected, awkward questions. And the greatest source of happiness was the praise Jack had given him. PJ's battered little spirit thirsted for praise just as a lost desert traveler thirsts for water. He was constantly in search of it. Jack's looks and words of approval had touched his heart, and he hugged them to his memory, replaying them over and over in his mind's ear. His happiness was secure for several days.

At Monday lunch, however, reality intruded itself when one of his friends asked about an article in the sports section of the newspaper. PJ read it and found new rumors about Jack going to a team in California. If the article had been about Jack playing for the Phillies, PJ mightn't have reacted as he did. Philadelphia was even closer to Gordonsville than Boston. But to PJ, California was as far away as the moon. How could Jack come to see him if he went to play there?

This line of thought led PJ to another troubling question, one he'd been ignoring in the happy afterglow of Jack's visit. The question didn't have the power to upset him in the devastating way his fear about Jack's possible nonappearance had, but it was there, always on the horizon of consciousness, looming like a distant storm cloud. Would he ever see Jack again after the next visit, even if Jack did stay with Boston? Despite his effort to avoid thinking about it, the question intruded at odd moments, and PJ was forced to the same conclusion every time. Jack had promised two visits. He'd made one and PJ was certain he'd make the second. Yet after that. . .

Jack won't be coming again, said the voice in his head. Why should he? I'm not his son! PJ was trying to ignore that answer. Unsuccessfully.

In all the anxiety of meeting Jack, persuading him to visit, and then in the excitement of the visit itself, he'd managed to forget that Jack couldn't know about the special relationship PJ wanted to have with him. How could he know? PJ had never told him. He'd been assuming that once they spent some time together, Jack would see how much PJ wanted to be friends and would feel the same way. But now PJ had to question that assumption. Sure, Jack had been nice to him. But Jack was nice to everybody. He had not been any nicer to PJ then he was to Charlie, or Travis, or Erik, or any of the thousands of kids he signed autographs for. Little tendrils of doubt began to curl through his mind. Why had Jack agreed to visit him? Was it only to make his agent happy and because he was such a nice guy? PJ was almost certain that if he could just get some time alone with Jack, he could persuade him to come for Christmas. But what about after that? What if he couldn't make Jack understand how important it was to keep seeing him? PJ had thought he could do it. But what if he couldn't?

The plan PJ hit upon did not come suddenly but took gradual shape over several nights of thinking. Suppose there was something really big he could give Jack? Something special. Jack would understand then. He would know how much PJ valued him, and for sure he would be grateful enough to give PJ friendship in return. Then Jack would come visit more often. After awhile they would be real close friends, and PJ could tell him everything--all the stuff he couldn't tell anybody else, not even Erik-- and Jack would understand because he was such a great guy, and that was just how he was, and . . . and then everything would be all right . . . always . . . forever. . . .

Something special! PJ decided he knew what that something special should be. The very same day, before his first class, he tried calling Walter Harris's number, but it was Pam Snyder, the paralegal, who answered the phone.

"PJ!" she said. Her voice came lilting over the wire. "How's school going?"

"Um, fine Ms. Snyder. Can I talk to Mr. Harris, please?"

"He's with a client right now, PJ. But if you tell me what you want, maybe I can help you."

"No," PJ insisted. "I think I better talk to him. It's about something he and I talked about coming back from Florida."

"All right, PJ. I'll tell him you want to talk to him. Why don't you call back at three and I'll make sure he's available for you."

PJ arranged to be excused from class early so he could make that call, and when he heard his lawyer's voice, he got right down to business. "Walter, do you remember what you told me on the plane on the trip back from Florida?"

"Mmmm--you better remind me, PJ."

"You said that if I wanted to, I could make the Red Sox give Jack Canon a contract."

There was silence for a moment. Then the man said, "I don't think I put it quite that strongly, but okay, yes, I remember."

"Well, I want to do it."

"Do what, PJ?"

"I want the Red Sox to give Jack a contract."

There was another pause. The voice came back. "But, they already have, PJ. They've offered him a contract. He just doesn't want to sign it."

"That's not what I mean," PJ said. "I want them to give him the contract he asked for."

"Oh. . . ." Walter paused again, and then asked, "Why do you want to do this, PJ?"

"Jack's been real nice to me. He invited both of us to visit him, and last week he came here to watch my swim meet. I'd like to do something nice in return."

"I see. Okay, well . . . I guess you two have gotten to be good friends."

"Yeah."

"Even so," the lawyer continued, "this is a pretty big thing, PJ. I mean, it's a lot bigger than just a couple of visits."

"I know." PJ cleared his throat and then read from a piece of paper in his hand. "I also think that it would be in the best long-term interests of the Red Sox if Jack Canon continued to play for them."

"You're not the only one who thinks that," Mr. Harris said with a chuckle. "Okay, PJ. I guess I can fix that up for you."

"I want it to be a secret until I tell Jack a week from Saturday."

"Right. I get you. Leave it to me. I don't anticipate problems, but I'll call you if there are any. If you don't hear from me you'll know it's all set."

"Thanks, Walter."

"What can I get you for Christmas, PJ?"

"You just gave me everything I wanted."

"Well, if anything else occurs to you, send me an e-mail message."

"Okay." PJ hung up the phone and then took a deep breath, feeling greatly relieved. It was scary sometimes trying to get things done with adults--like not giving up in a real hard workout, when every part of you wanted to quit! He got so gut-wrenching tense sometimes. Sick to his stomach, even! But it was like Jack said. "Anything's possible!"

When things are real tough, Jack never gives up, and I won't either!

As the ten days remaining before Jack's next visit ticked off, one-by-one, PJ pushed himself hard during every workout because he wanted to be picked to swim three events for the upcoming meet with Essex Academy. In the season opener against Franklyn, an easy opponent, Coach Bernard had given extra opportunities to his younger swimmers. Now, PJ wanted to earn the chance to swim a full three events against the much tougher Essex team.

He used the rest of his free time to do things with Erik--and to practice his music. He knew that he'd never be better than average on the violin, but he enjoyed playing anyway. For Christmas, he was learning a simple Bach piece, "Sheep May Safely Graze," and he was looking forward to playing it on Christmas Day. Erik had also recruited him along with some of their friends to join a group that played carols on a set of hand bells, and they planned to go from house to house just before the Christmas Break, entertaining everyone on campus.

The only scary moment for PJ during those ten days came when he returned to his House after school and found a letter addressed to Mr. P.J. Thorndyke tacked to the hallway bulletin board. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Jack's return address. His first thought was, Jack's not coming! He took the letter up to his room so no one would see him when he opened it. His fingers were trembling as he pulled out a handwritten note:

Dear PJ,

As soon as I got back here I hunted around until I found your letter. Like I thought, it was in a stack of other stuff on my desk that had piled up. I'm bad about that. PJ, I want you to know how much I appreciate you writing me. Please do not worry about me showing up for your next meet. I'll be there, and I'll spend the day with you.

See you then – Your friend, Jack

PS. Maybe I should wear dark glasses and a fake mustache so I won't have to sign more autographs for the customers! See ya! J.

Whew!

PJ got another hint that his plans were going well when he checked his e-mail a few days later. There was a note from Walter:

PJ - It's all set. He will get the contract on the Monday following your meet. He owes you one. Make him give you some free All-Star game tickets or something! Perry Mason.

The last few days before the meet went by in a blur. PJ turned in his big science project, went to cheer for his roommate at Erik's basketball games, and helped put up Christmas decorations for the House. All the while he rehearsed what he planned to say when he was alone with Jack--a speech to persuade him to come for Christmas.

* * *

Friday after practice, on the eve of the Essex meet, PJ joined the rest of Gordonsville's Middle School swimmers in front of the locker-room bulletin board checking race assignments. Heart pounding with excitement, he found his name in three places! He'd done it! He was the only eleven-year-old being allowed to swim the maximum number of events! Butterfly on the medley relay, the 100-yard butterfly event, and the 100-yard freestyle! Now if he could only do well. Make Jack proud of him. Then he would find some way to be with Jack alone . . . talk with him . . . convince him to come for Christmas . . . to visit all the time! Then everything would be all right, just the way he had dreamed! He just had to do it. His plan had to work.

The Saturday of the Essex meet dawned bright and cold. PJ got up early for a training breakfast supervised by Coach Bernard, and then went back to the House where he was supposed to relax quietly until it was time to get ready. But he found it impossible to remain still, shifting restlessly from reading on his bed to fiddling with the pirated version of Flight Simulator on the computer at his desk. Finally, Erik offered to play a football video game with him "just so you'll stop pacing around." He entered gratefully into the game, letting Erik believe that it was pre-meet jitters that had him so nervous. But that was only part of the reason. Worry over Jack's possible non-appearance had made PJ sick with apprehension before the first visit. Now that wasn't a concern. PJ knew Jack would be there for the meet. But would he ever come again? For days PJ'd been telling himself that he could persuade Jack to be his friend. Now, suddenly, he was filled with doubt. What if I can't? What if I never see Jack Canon again? If my plan doesn't work, I have no back-up! It was too awful to think about. With an effort, PJ suppressed his fears, concentrated on his game with Erik, and told himself to stay focused on his races.

I'll do good today! I'll make Jack proud of me! Then for sure he'll want to come for Christmas and be my friend!

Playing the video game with Erik helped, and PJ felt more relaxed when his roommate checked the time, announcing that he was going over to the Field House early. "There's gonna be a big crowd for this meet, PJ. I'm gonna hold two seats by the starting end for me and Jack. Tell him to look for me."

PJ hung around by himself in the room awhile longer, practicing landings with the space shuttle on his computer, but it was harder to stay relaxed without Erik, and he was relieved when it was time to grab his swim bag and leave. Coming down the walk toward the Field House, he saw there wasn't just one Essex team bus parked outside, but two. Plus there were a lot of cars and a crowd of people. Essex had brought plenty of spectators to root for them. Some of PJ's fear receded as he was caught up in the excitement of the moment. Then he spotted a familiar figure standing on the steps, wearing dark glasses and a big duffel coat. All worries forgotten, he ran to him yelling happily, "Jack!"

Putting an arm around PJ's shoulders for a quick hug, Jack ruffled the boy's hair and said with a chuckle, "Take it easy, Tiger! Save all that energy for your race."

"Erik's holding a seat for you!" PJ told him breathlessly. "There's gonna be a lot of people. He'll be down by the starting end right where you were last time. An' guess what? I'm in three races! I was the youngest one to get picked for three!"

"Hey, that's terrific, PJ!" Jack gave him another quick hug. "Did you bring the stopwatch for me again?"

"Erik's got the stopwatch for you, and the list of events. I circled mine so you'll know when I'm racing."

"Okay," Jack said. "You go warm up and get with your team. I know my way around this place. I'll find Erik. Good luck, Tiger!"

PJ hurried down to the locker room to change, really feeling the jitters as he pulled on his team Speedo. Jack's here. Jack's here! And I'm in three races, an' I'm gonna do my very,very best to make him proud!

Out in the pool area he found a place to park his towel and sweat suit, then hurried to a warm-up lane. Looking up into the stands, he found Erik. And there was Jack right beside him, both sitting in the same place as last time. That would be good luck! He waved before diving in to loosen up. Because Coach Bernard was using him in both butterfly and freestyle events, PJ did a warm-up for each stroke and added extra freestyle flip-turns at each end to be sure he had his marks right for judging the approach to the wall. A few starts and half-sprints completed his pre-race ritual. After grabbing his towel, he went over to Jack and Erik.

"I see you're doing a freestyle race instead of the medley," Jack said, leaning over the railing to talk.

PJ launched into an explanation of his coach's strategy. "See, I'm almost as fast as our best flyer for two laps, so I'll do the fly leg on the medley relay. That way he can swim in two individual events and be on the freestyle relay at the end. We probably have to win both relays to have a chance. I'll swim as second man in the freestyle race and that'll save another good kid for the last relay."

"Uh-huh," Jack said, totally confused. "Sort of like that double switch they do in National League games."

Erik was grinning. "Don't worry, PJ. I'll explain it all to him. Go win that medley relay!"

As PJ went back to get ready for his relay event, he felt super keyed-up! He wanted to start! "Let's go!,let's go!" he sang to himself. At last the officials cleared the pool, and even before the first event was called, PJ was at the starting block adjusting his goggles. He eyed the four Essex swimmers as they came up. They looked big!

But it turned out there was nothing to worry about. Mark, the backstroker who led off PJ's relay, was not only the fastest at Gordonsville Middle School, he was one of the best in the region. He gave a lead to Donny, doing the breaststroke leg, Donny held that lead, and PJ moved them even farther ahead with the two best laps of fly he'd ever done! By the time Davis, the twelve-year-old freestyler, swam the last leg, it was all over. Gordonsville had won the first event and was ahead by seven points!

Over in the stands Erik was pointing to the stopwatch with a big grin, and Jack gave PJ a smile with the thumbs-up sign.

PJ sat back down waiting anxiously for his butterfly event and as he watched, the Essex team's strategy became clear. They had held some of their best swimmers out of the medley relay so they could use them in individual events. As a result, Gordonsville's best sprinter got upset in the 50-yard freestyle and they were swept in the 100-yard breaststroke. When PJ was called for his butterfly race, Gordonsville was suddenly trailing in points!

On the way up to the blocks, Blake, the older kid swimming the event with PJ, whispered, "Here we go! Let's nail these guys!" PJ nodded back. Despite the score, he felt more than ready. Having just done his best time ever for two laps, he was now determined to do his best for four! He would take the first half of the race out as fast as he could and bring back the second half even harder!

Deciding not to even look at the two swimmers from the other team, PJ focused instead on his own race. Let's do this thing! he ordered himself. Stepping up onto the starting block, he had the feeling that his body was a huge spring ready to uncoil.

When the gun sounded, PJ exploded off the block, powering down the pool at his fastest pace, ignoring everything except the driving need to go faster, faster! Every ounce of strength in his arms and legs drove him over the water! He never checked the other swimmers until he finished the second lap, and then, when he took a quick peek at the turn, a thrill shot through him! He and Blake were even! PJ had never been this close to his older teammate before! Charged with energy, he gunned into the third lap determined to swim the race of his life!

The two boys battled head-to-head down the pool, each one holding such perfect form that their powerful surges over the water appeared effortless, concealing the brutal toll every butterfly stroke made on their young bodies. With his advantage of size and strength, Blake's slightly longer reach on each stroke gave him the edge as both boys began to tire. When they made the turn and started on the final lap, Blake led PJ by half a stroke.

PJ could only counter with stamina and courage. He grimly battled to stay with his teammate. As they went for the finish, PJ doubled his effort, almost flying over the water. When they touched the wall in a one-two finish, PJ was only a few tenths of a second behind. PJ pulled his head up to look around. The Essex swimmers were only now coming in! He and Blake had swept the event! He had just done another best time, and Gordonsville was back in the lead! Everyone was up and cheering. Jack and Erik both had their fists in the air in victory salutes. The whole Gordonsville team was up clapping and yelling.

Blake scrambled out of the water alongside PJ, gave him a high-five, and screamed over the noise, "We did it, PJ! We did it! One, Two! Way to go!" He turned toward the rest of the team, pumping his fist in the air and yelling, "One, Two! One, Two! One, Two! One, Two!" The entire team took up the chant, and then everyone in the stands. "One, Two! One, Two! One, Two! One, Two!. . ." The noise was deafening. PJ slapped and shook everyone's hand.

Finally the chanting died down enough for the officials to call the next race. PJ pulled on his sweat suit, feeling exhilarated, though as he sat down he suddenly realized how tired he was. That had been a tough race! And he still had one more to go. He rested until the end of the next event and went once more to see Erik and Jack.

"Great race, Tiger!" Jack told him. "Another best time, PJ," Erik announced excitedly. "I got all your lap splits. You can study them tonight."

"I think that one wore me out a little," PJ said. "I really pushed it hard! I hope I can get through that freestyle race!"

"Take these, Tiger." Jack handed him a roll of lifesavers. "Pop 'em in and chew 'em up. Instant energy. The way this meet's going, you guys will need every point. Don't fold up on me, now!"

"I won't Jack," PJ stuffed six lifesavers into his mouth and trotted back to his rightful place with the team. Jack's lifesavers really did seem to help. By the time PJ's freestyle event was called, he felt pumped up and ready.

Once again, PJ was in the event as Gordonsville's second swimmer, entered along with Trent, a thirteen-year-old who was one of Gordonsville's best freestylers. PJ looked over to where the other team was sending up their two swimmers, an older boy and a younger one. All of a sudden, the Essex coach called them back. He was looking directly at PJ and checking his clipboard. Then he said something. The older boy sat down and another boy, not quite as big, took his place.

In a flash, PJ understood exactly what was happening. He'd just watched the Essex coach make a powerful strategic switch that might win the meet. In order to defeat Gordonsville, Essex didn't have to win PJ's event. All they had to do was place second and instead win the last event, the freestyle relay, which was worth more points than the individuals. By holding back his good freestyler, the other coach could use him to stack the Essex relay team and thus virtually guarantee winning that last race. The coach was gambling that his other, smaller swimmer was good enough in the freestyle to beat PJ, just a pipsqueak to him, and take at least second place.

But if PJ could beat him for that second place, if he and Trent could sweep the event for Gordonsville . . . . Swiftly, he ran the numbers in his head. Mark would win the 100-yard backstroke, that was for sure. Blake would win the 200-yard individual medley. If this happened, as it should, after he and Trent had swept the 100-yard freestyle, Essex would be shut out no matter who won the relay! Gordonsville would win the meet!

PJ glanced over at Erik and Jack. Erik had his head next to Jack's and was talking rapidly. Erik knows what's going on, PJ thought. I bet he's telling Jack right now.

PJ was sure Coach Bernard had seen it too, but he couldn't make any changes. The fact was, Coach Bernard hadn't any substitutes left that he hadn't saved for other events.

PJ ran the numbers one more time, and the answer was inescapable: The whole meet is going to come down to me!

For just a second he felt his stomach knot in fear. Then he told himself to straighten up. How many times had he watched Jack Canon come to the plate with two gone in the bottom of the ninth and the game on the line! Did Jack ever chicken out? No! He'd step into the batter's box with that confident look on his face and try to knock one out for his team! If I have to beat this kid to win the meet, then the sooner I get started, the sooner I'll get it done! "Anything's possible!" PJ whispered as he stepped onto the starting block.

The starter called them to their marks. There was absolute quiet. Then the gun sounded and they were off!

Just as in the butterfly, PJ took out the first two laps of the four-lap race as fast as he could, without worrying about holding anything in reserve for the last part. Get a lead on the kid, he told himself, and he'll think he's beaten. He won't be able to come back.

But the Essex boy was still bigger than PJ and just as fast. At the end of the first two laps they were neck-and-neck.

PJ hit his turn just a little too far out. He couldn't get a full push-off and came out of the turn into the third lap just slightly back of the other boy, at his shoulder. We still got two more laps, he thought. This guy'll get tired. He'll come back to me. Let's get him!

He stroked down the third lap trying to pick up his pace. He was starting to feel it now. That butterfly race had taken a lot out of him. But he'd spent hours in the weight room, swum miles in the pool, and now it was paying off. The Essex swimmer was tiring too. PJ inched up, inched up . . . and caught him!

Now! Now! Let's do it! Nail this turn and take this guy!

He hit his last turn perfectly, driving into the final lap knowing he was ahead of the kid! He was really feeling tired now, but willed himself to hold form, lengthening his stroke and surging into the finish. He could see the Essex boy right next to him in the next lane. It's gonna be close! He sprinted into the wall with everything he had left!

As soon as he touched, PJ pulled his head up to check the scoreboard.

Yes! There it was! A red number `1' by Trent's lane number, a big '2' by his! He checked again to be sure . . .

A sweep! They had done it! The other kid had come in third!

The air around him was thundering with sound. Suddenly he realized that everyone was on their feet, chanting his name over and over. "Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay! . . ." The noise was so loud he couldn't think. "Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay! . . ."

He reached over and shook the Essex boy's hand. "Nice race," he tried to say, but the chanting was so loud he couldn't even hear himself say the words.

"Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay!, Pee-Jay! . . ."

It came to him that this was glory, that this was the kind of thing he had read about in books but had never dreamed would come to him. The last few events of the meet were an anti-climax. In a hard-fought race, the other team won the freestyle relay. But PJ'd already put the nail in the coffin.

After the celebrating and the hand-shaking and the cheering, the crowd began to leave and the two teams drifted into the locker room with PJ still in happy-land. As he dressed, he was thinking that the best thing about his victory today had been that Erik and Jack were there to share it with him.

Erik was waiting just outside the locker room and the two boys broke into wide grins when they saw each other. "How's it feel to be a hero, you bum?" Erik asked.

PJ shook his head in fake shame. "I almost wasn't. Did you see where I messed up that second turn?"

"I was never worried." Erik waved a dismissive hand. "You had that guy all the way. Of course, you realize I'm left with a serious problem."

"What's that?"

"Now your head's gonna be so big there won't be any space left over in our room. Where will I sleep?"

PJ just smiled. "I did do pretty good today, didn't I."

Erik punched him in the shoulder. "Just remember who always beats you in one-on-one basketball."

"Is Jack upstairs signing stuff?"

"Yeah. Not as many this time, I think."

The boys went up the steps and watched Jack sign autographs for kids and parents from the Essex team. It didn't take as long as it had at the first meet. Soon, the three of them were alone in the lobby, Jack looking down at PJ, eyes twinkling. He smiled and put his big hand on PJ's shoulder. "A great day, Tiger. You did just fine. Are you excited?"

Blushing, PJ smiled back up at him, nodded, and Jack squeezed his shoulder. "I'm very glad you invited me for this," Jack told him. "Glad I was here to share it with you." He beckoned to Erik and said, "Come on. I want to show you guys something." To PJ's surprise, he turned and led them back through the double doors into the pool area. The huge space was deserted. They stood at the top of the stands, looking down over row after row of empty seats. Beneath them, the pool was like a mirror, now absolutely still. The gleaming rays of sunlight pouring through the windows reflected off its surface, painting rainbows across the tiled walls. There was a faint soft swish of water in the gutters. PJ had the eerie feeling that the pool was whispering to itself in the echoing stillness.

After a minute, Jack broke the silence. "You guys read poetry?" Without waiting for an answer, he recited, "The tumult and the shouting dies . . . The Captains and the Kings depart . . . ."

He sat down, gesturing for the two boys to sit in front of him, and smiling warmly at PJ, said, "Guess you were one of those Kings today, Tiger." Looking out over the boys' heads for a moment, he paused and went on, "PJ, there are boys and girls--and men and women--who spend all their lives in sports and never get a day like you had today. You're lucky. It could be you'll never have another. But I doubt that. I think you'll have a lot more." He smiled at PJ again and quoted another line: "To those that have, much is given."

"I feel kinda bad for the kid I beat," PJ said, looking down at his hands.

Jack shook his head. "Never be ashamed of winning, Tiger." With a gentle touch, he stroked the boy's shoulder. "Don't ever be afraid of losing, either. But never, never be afraid to win. That kid would have been glad to beat you if he could have."

Jack paused again and then continued, "I wanted to show you guys this . . ."-- he waved his hand at the empty pool arena--". . . to remind you that it's always this way. After every game, every match, every meet, after all the shouting and cheering's done and the crowd and the players have gone home, the field always remains. The field, or the soccer pitch, or the basketball court, or the pool. . . . They always remain--and the challenge they offer. The eternal challenge of sports. The challenge to excellence.

"This pool will be here waiting for you, Tiger," Jack continued, "waiting for your next practice, your next meet, all the meets after that. And every time you come to it, the pool will give you its challenge: its eternal challenge of time and distance and space. And nothing that you've done before will help you meet that challenge. The close races you've won, the times the crowd has chanted your name--it all counts for exactly nothing. The only things that can help will be the things you carry inside: the things you've built, bit by painful bit. And only you will know how strong or weak those things are and how much you can rely upon them."

Jack shook his head and then went on, "It's the same for me as it is for you, Tiger. Every time I come to the plate and the crowd is screaming for a hit, it doesn't matter if the day before I got three home runs or a hundred. All that matters is, can I hit it now. What can I do today? That's how it will always be, PJ." Jack looked at him kindly. "It's always the same question. Sure, you were a hero yesterday. But what will you do today?"

Turning his head, cocking it as if listening to some unseen speaker, Jack fell silent and for a few seconds there was nothing except the whispering of water in the pool drains. Then his eyes came back to the boys. "Know what I think this place is doing right now?"

PJ and Erik shook their heads.

"I think it's absorbing everything that happened today, taking it all and building it into itself." With a smile he shook his head. "Guess that sounds crazy to you. But I really believe places where sports are played do that. I know the old ballparks do. Sometimes, when I stand in them and try hard enough, I can feel the great players and the great plays those old parks have seen." He reached out to tap PJ's shoulder again. "From now on, Tiger, you're gonna be a part of this place; a small part of its history and traditions."

Falling silent again, Jack stared out into space while the two boys sat at his feet staring up at him. Then, suddenly, he slapped his knees and got up. "Well. Guess that's enough of that." He winked at them and grinned. "Let me pass on just one more lesson. And it's an unbreakable rule! When you do have a good day like this one, you definitely celebrate it! They don't come that often! Now, I promised to take you guys out to eat. What'll it be? Dinner at the Inn, or pizza?"

"Pizza!!" both boys yelled simultaneously.

As they left the Field House and were walking to the car, Jack asked where a good pizza place was outside the gate. "Oh, there's nothing here," PJ told him.

"You have to drive for miles," Erik agreed.

"Wait a minute." Jack stopped walking for a second to stare at the boys. "Are you guys telling me that, with all these hungry kids here all the time in the school, there's no pizza places around?"

"They don't allow deliveries, and we can't go off campus without an adult," PJ said.

"Until we're sixth form anyway," Erik added, "and have passing grades."

"We can't even go to the store across the road from the gate," PJ explained. "They got pizza, but it's little frozen ones they put in a microwave."

"Like really bad," said Eric, making a face. "Yuck!"

"Okay. . . ." Jack put hands on their shoulders, herding them forward. "I'm catching on now. I see why you really invited me up here, Tiger. I'm your free pass out of the gate!"

"Yup! That's it!" PJ said, both he and Erik snickering.

After all three of them had piled into Jack's rental car and got started, Erik gave Jack directions. "There's a mall that's got a Chuck E. Cheese about ten miles from here," he said. "Pizza and video games--an excellent combination!"

"Oh, brother," Jack moaned.

"Don't worry, Jack," PJ said innocently. "We won't spend all your money. We'll leave you a few bucks for gas."

Jack gave them a look of startled surprise. "I thought you guys were paying!"

PJ and Erik cracked up and Jack kept the joke going so they were all still laughing when they got to the mall.

But PJ wasn't entirely laughing inside. That is to say, he still had some unfinished business with Jack. It had to do with a Christmas invitation. . .

Chapter Fourteen: A Contract Negotiation

Hours later, on the way back home, PJ decided it'd been a mistake to finish that third pizza. "I'm so stuffed I can't move," he announced.

"I know I'm not gonna eat again for a week," groaned Erik next to him.

"You think you guys feel bad?" Jack complained. "If I sign one more autograph, my hand is gonna fall off." Jack had tried hard to disguise himself with dark glasses and an old golf hat, but halfway through the second pizza, he'd been recognized and had spent the rest of the time surrounded by groups of happy kids all clamoring for his signature.

"Yeah. Gee, Jack, it sure was too bad you got spotted," PJ said, seemingly sympathetic.

Erik coughed, make choking noises, and Jack turned to stare at PJ, who sat quietly trying to appear innocent. "PJ?" Jack said accusingly.

More sputtering emerged from Erik. PJ elbowed him hard in the ribs and then, unable to hold back anymore, Erik burst out laughing. "PJ ratted you out, Jack," he said between gusts of mirth. "He was playing a video game with this kid and he pointed you out and said, 'Hey, doesn't that guy look just like Jack Canon?' And the rest . . ."--Erik burst into even more laughter before gasping--"and the rest, as they say, is history." He collapsed against the seat, shaking with laughter, as PJ pummeled him.

"Oh thanks, PJ," Jack said. "Who needs enemies with friends like you?" He gave PJ a quick hug around the shoulders.

When they got back to school, the boys showed Jack a place to park near their House. "I seem to recall," Jack said, "that the last time I was here, you guys promised me a tour of the place."

"Oh no," Erik whimpered. "Jack, if I move right now my stomach will burst and then I'll die and make a mess in your car."

"Gee, Jack," PJ said. "It's cold out. Why don't we just do the tour in your car?"

"No way, guys," Jack said firmly. "Walking's good for you. Get your butts moving and show me this place!"

The groaning boys dragged themselves from the car while Jack buttoned up his coat. "Where do we start?" he asked.

"Let's do the House last," Erik said. "That way I'll be able to collapse right into my bed when we finish."

They toured Jack around the entire campus, showing him the chapel, the administration building, the headmaster's house, the Upper School, the Middle School, the Auditorium and stage, and the Hockey Rink. When they started to pass by the Field House, Jack protested. "All I've seen is the pool. Show me the rest of it." So they took him inside and walked into the enormous main arena, set up at that time of year for basketball and indoor track. Jack whistled as he stared at the tiers of seats that were banked around the sides. "What a layout! How many people does this place hold?"

"I think a few thousand," PJ said.

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "Wow!"

"In the fall we practice football here on bad days," Erik told him. "And in the spring they put up nets for batting cages so we can start baseball practice even if the outdoor fields aren't ready yet."

"This is better than what some Major League teams have for spring training," Jack said.

As they strolled around the indoor track, Jack's attention was drawn to a long wall near the corner of the stands. He stood looking at it. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "you two guys could use this spot here to get ready for spring baseball other than just hitting."

Erik turned to him. "How?"

"I know!" PJ said suddenly. "Wallball! We can use this place as a baseball wall to practice our fielding."

"Wha-aa-t?" exclaimed Eric.

"That's right, PJ." Jack gave him a nudge on the shoulder. "A few times a week for an hour or so. You might be surprised how it would help."

PJ turned excitedly to Erik. "I'll show you, Erik. It's fun. You'll like it. And it'll be just you an' me. We'll keep it secret. And this spring we'll really show everyone in the tryouts!"

"How do you play baseball on a wall?" Erik asked in confusion.

"Don't worry, Jack," PJ assured him, "I'll teach him what to do. Erik's not too bright, but if you use simple words and go slow. . ." PJ ducked as Erik took a swing at him.

"Come on, Jack," Erik said while PJ dodged out of range, "we'll show you the fields."

As they went back out through the foyer, the boys showed Jack the trophy cases. Then they made a tour of the athletic fields, starting with the lacrosse field. At the JV football field where the Middle School played, they described their adventures of the season that'd just ended. "We were the two youngest to play in regular games this year," Erik declared proudly.

"Next year we'll be bigger and stronger," PJ said, "an' then watch out!"

Erik looked up at Jack with mock seriousness. "We plan on using a tested recipe for success."

"Erik will throw the ball, PJ explained, nodding gravely.

"And PJ will run down the field and catch it," Erik finished.

"It worked for Knute Rockne and Notre Dame," PJ concluded with a wave of his hand, as if demonstrating the obvious.

For a moment Jack was laughing so hard he was unable to speak. "You guys are gonna kill me," he sputtered at last.

They went by several soccer fields and PJ pointed out how he had played soccer for several years in Chicago. "I loved it," he said. "I wish I could play it here, but I have to choose between it or football."

"That's the worst thing about Gordonsville," Erik told Jack. "You can't do everything. You have to make choices. I had to choose between basketball and wrestling. An' in the spring I'm gonna play baseball, but I'll miss being able to do the high jump and run track."

"You can't do both?" Jack asked.

Erik shook his head. "I can run track for the House in intramurals, but I can only compete in one official sport for the Middle School."

"It's a question of time, you see, Jack," PJ told him. "The schoolwork here is tough. It takes a lot of time."

"And the schoolwork always has to come first," Erik said. PJ nodded in agreement.

They finished at the baseball field complex where Jack looked over the diamonds and practice fields, shaking his head in admiration. "Man, you guys have got it all."

"This is the field our Middle School uses," PJ explained. "We'll be playing here this spring if we make the team."

"You think you won't?"

"Erik will, but I'm not sure about me."

Jack took hold of PJ's shoulder and squeezed. "You practice on that wall for a while and maybe you'll be surprised."

The touch of Jack's hand sent a rush of excitement through PJ. It was all so perfect! Just like he'd imagined! Just the way it was between Bill and Erik! He looked up at Jack, smiling.

It started to get dark and as they trudged back towards the House, Jack said, "I guess you boys know how lucky you are to be at a place like this and have all these nice facilities?"

"We know, Jack," PJ answered, walking as close to the tall man as possible in hopes of getting another hug. "There are some here who don't, but we do."

"There are even kids here who don't like it," Erik said. "Mostly they're kids who can't handle the schoolwork," PJ added. "This place isn't much fun if you can't keep up in class."

"I guess neither one of you has much trouble."

"Well, PJ does." Erik was struggling to keep a straight face. "But luckily he has a genius roommate who drags him along and keeps him from flunking out."

"Oh brother!" Faking disgust, PJ tugged at Jack's arm. "Don't believe it, Jack. Without me, Erik would never survive."

When they reached the House, PJ and Erik took Jack in to meet Mr. Williamson. For some time, PJ had been nervously anticipating this meeting between the two adults who were both so important to him. He wanted them to like each other, and anxiety made him unusually formal when he made the introductions. "Mr. Williamson, this is Jack Canon who I told you about. Jack, this is Mr. Williamson, my Housemaster."

"I'm honored to meet you Mr. Canon," Mr. Williamson said, shaking hands. "PJ and I are both avid baseball fans. He's a great admirer of yours and so am I."

"Thanks." PJ could tell Jack was a little embarrassed about what to say. "Uh, it's nice to meet you, too."

"It was very kind of you to have PJ at your home for Thanksgiving and to visit him here."

"Uh, well, it really wasn't any trouble," Jack said uneasily. "PJ's a great kid."

"It meant a great deal to him." Mr. Williamson looked intently at Jack and added, "as I'm sure you know."

"Oh yeah," Jack assured him.

"PJ," Mr. Williamson said, giving the boy a warm smile, "I understand the Middle School swim team won today, and that you had something to do with it."

PJ blushed and nodded.

"Well," Mr. Williamson continued, "if you go in the kitchen, I think Mrs. Williamson made some brownies for you as a reward."

PJ's eyes lit up. "Brownies? Can Erik have some too?"

Mr. Williamson smiled. "I think there should be enough."

* * *

As the two boys hurried off, Mr. Williamson watched them for a moment before turning to Jack. "All of us here are very fond of PJ, Mr. Canon. I assume you know about his parents."

"I know they both died recently. He seems to be handling it fairly well."

Mr. Williamson pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No one really knows what that boy thinks, Mr. Canon. He's had a very troubled childhood. I think you ought to be aware that he may be far more fragile than he appears. I hope you will be careful with him. He thinks a great deal of you."

"Yeah, sure," Jack replied.

* * *

The two boys came back with a bag. "I'm gonna save these for after supper," PJ said. "Mr. Williamson, can we show Jack around the House? We want him to see our room, and the Christmas tree."

"Of course, PJ. Show him everything."

PJ and Erik first escorted Jack to the common room downstairs, so he could see the decorations and the tree. "This is where we're gonna have Christmas for the kids who have to spend the holiday here," PJ told him.

Jack looked at him in surprise. "You mean some kids don't go home?"

"Oh, there's always a few that don't," PJ explained. "Some live in other countries. Some have parents who are working or traveling. Stuff like that. But we always have a good time. How do you like our tree? We made most of the decorations ourselves." He looked up hopefully, wanting Jack to be impressed.

"Mrs. Williamson has a few decorations she saves to use every year, but we made all the rest," Erik added.

"Looks real nice," Jack told them.

"What are you doing for Christmas, Jack?" PJ asked with elaborate casualness.

"Oh, not much, I guess. Seeing a few friends."

"Let's show him our room," Erik said. "Come on, Jack."

Going up the stairs to the top floor, they ran into boys in the hallways or on the landings who stopped, staring at Jack, and PJ noted how Jack always put them at ease with a word or two. Erik led the way down the hall and proudly opened the door to their room at the end. "We're back outta the way here," he said, "so no one bothers us much."

Jack stepped in and looked around. The first thing he saw was his poster dominating the room from the front of the closet door. He turned to smile at PJ, and walked slowly about, stopping at PJ's desk to notice the picture of the two of them tucked into the frame of the mirror. Above it was the newspaper photo of him signing an autograph.

"This is my computer, Jack," PJ said, turning it on. "See, I've got an internet connection and my own mailbox. You can send an e-mail to me from anywhere when you're traveling around."

"Quite a set-up you guys have," Jack said.

"This is my violin." PJ opened the case and lifted it out. "You want to hear me play it? I've been working on a thing for Christmas." He played a part of his Bach piece and told Jack, "There's a lot more. I'm gonna play the whole thing on Christmas morning."

"Look out our window, Jack," Erik said. He walked over and opened it. "You can see all the way to the ball field from here, but that's not the best part. Look, see how you can step out?" Erik demonstrated. The window was in a dormer that opened onto a few feet of roof. Erik climbed all the way out, standing on the shingles that covered the sloping edge. "See," he said, "you can go around here and walk right up to the roof peak."

Jack stuck his head out, twisting to peer up at the peak and end gable above. Then he looked down and saw how high they were. "Erik," he ordered quietly but firmly. "Get your butt back in here right now."

Erik immediately scrambled back through the window and closed it. "Don't worry, Jack. It's safe. PJ and I go out there all the time. On Halloween we got up on top of the roof and threw water balloons at everybody."

"Yeah," PJ said, giggling. "It was great. People couldn't figure out where they were comin' from."

Jack took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and grabbed both boys by a shoulder, propelling them across the room to sit down side-by-side on Erik's bed. "Okay, serious talk," he said, sternly eyeing them. "Look, you are bright, funny, and wonderful kids and I like hanging with you. But if you keep going out that window you won't be bright, funny, and wonderful anymore because one day you'll fall and you'll be dead. I know what I should do here. I should go down, right now, and tell Mr. Williamson that you've been going out on that roof and let him handle it the way he wants to. But, I won't do that if you promise me, right now, that you will never go out there again. Do you promise?"

Both boys were staring at him, wide-eyed.

PJ swallowed, then said, "I promise, Jack."

"I promise," Erik declared, nodding.

Jack eyed them awhile longer. "OK, I trust you. I believe you'll keep your word."

He walked over to Erik's desk. "This your computer, Erik?"

Erik hurried over to show him. "I've got a mailbox too," he said. He showed where he and his stepfather left messages for each other. "We send jokes back and forth lotsa times." Then he showed Jack some computer art he had made.

"I'm hungry," PJ said, realizing suddenly that he was.

"Yeah, me too," Erik echoed.

Jack laughed. "I thought you were the guys who weren't going to eat for a week?"

"I dunno what happened," PJ said in a puzzled tone, "but all of a sudden my stomach alarm went off."

"Come on, Jack," Erik said. "We'll show you the place where we eat. You haven't seen that yet."

"Who'd want to," PJ said, "the food's awful."

"Yeah," Erik told him. "I notice you eat it, though."

"When you're desperate you'll do anything." PJ took hold of one of Jack's arms. Erik took the other and together, they dragged Jack off to the Dining Hall.

After supper, when Erik excused himself and went back to the House, Jack took PJ for a walk over toward the Field House. It was cold, but the wind had died down so they were comfortable enough in their coats. Jack stopped by the Field House steps and sat down on a bench.

"PJ, I had fun today. How 'bout you?"

"It's been great, Jack," PJ said quietly.

The man nodded. "Well, I promised I'd stay the whole day today and I'm glad I did. You guys have such a wonderful place here. I'm grateful to have had a chance to see it." He looked over at PJ. "I hope you'll keep me posted on how you're doing, Tiger. You kind of got me interested now. I'd like to know how your swim season turns out and whether you make the baseball team. Send me some e-mails."

PJ felt a dull ache in his chest. Jack wasn't planning on coming again. It was pretty obvious. PJ couldn't understand what he'd done wrong. Why would Jack not want to see him again? He'd tried so hard to please him. Why couldn't Jack see how much PJ wanted him to keep coming? It's the same as with my parents. They never wanted to see me either. What's wrong with me?

But PJ refused to give up. Never give up! Never, never give up!

Summoning all his courage and working hard to keep his voice under control, he said, "Jack. Uh, if you want, instead of me writing to you, I'd be glad to have you come to some more meets. You don't have to come to a lot," he added quickly, "just a couple. Maybe one in January, and one in February, and then maybe the Championships in March. . ."

PJ broke off as Jack started shaking his head. "I just can't do all that, PJ. There's too many other things that will be keeping me busy. And Spring training starts for me in March. Then the regular season. I'm afraid you'll just have to write me and let me know how you're doing."

"How about Christmas, Jack?" PJ said a little desperately. "Couldn't you come just for a day? I know you'd like it. We could have a real nice time. You're not doing anything else, are you?"

Jack smiled kindly at him and shook his head. "It's nice of you to ask me, PJ, but I just don't think it's a good idea."

PJ felt a little dizzy. Nothing had worked out! All his rehearsals, all his careful plans--all no good. He would have to use his ultimate backup plan. He prayed it would work!

He looked down at the ground. "Jack," he asked, without looking up, "have the Red Sox given you a contract yet?"

"What?" Jack said, startled.

"The Red Sox," PJ repeated in a low voice, "have the Red Sox given you that contract you wanted yet?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Jack eyed him suspiciously. "That's kind of personal, you know, PJ."

"I was just wondering."

"Well," Jack conceded, "I guess it's not anything you couldn't read any day in the papers. No, they haven't."

"Would you really like to have that contract?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I'd like it all right. If they could get me that contract, there isn't much I wouldn't do for it."

PJ took a deep breath. He looked up from the ground and stared directly at Jack. "If I get you that contract, will you be my friend for one year?"

Jack appeared stunned for a moment. Then he shook his head and smiled. "You're a funny kid, Tiger. What are you up to now?"

PJ kept staring at him. "If I get you that contract," he repeated, "will you. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you." Jack looked around and sighed. "What is it you want, Tiger? What are you trying to get?"

PJ reached into his pocket and pulled out a list of events and dates he had put together. "I made this on my computer." He handed it to Jack.

Jack unfolded the paper and examined it.

"You don't have to come to all of them," PJ said quickly. "We could pick the best ones."

"What's this thing in April?" Jack asked.

"Spring Break. I thought . . ." PJ took a breath and then went on hopefully, "I thought maybe I could come watch you play."

"How `bout this stuff in the summer?"

"I go to a sports camp. I wanted you to come to some of my swim meets."

Jack sighed deeply again and rubbed his eyes. "Look, Tiger," he finally said. "You can't do things this way. You can't buy peoples' friendship."

PJ looked back at the ground. "I'm not trying to buy anything," he said desperately. "I just thought if you got the . . . the . . ." His voice broke and he looked up at Jack with tears streaming down his face. "Jack, is there something wrong with me?"

"What do you mean, wrong with you?" Jack said angrily. "Of course there's nothing wrong with you. You're a wonderful kid."

"Then why don't you like me?" PJ asked tearfully.

"Who ever said I didn't like you? Where'd you get that idea from? Of course I like you. Would I have gone to all the trouble of visiting you twice if I didn't like you?"

"I thought maybe you only came `cause your agent told you to," PJ said softly.

"My agent?" Jack shook his head impatiently. "Look, PJ. I came up here because I liked the way you had the guts to ask me to come. Mr. Kirkland had nothing to do with it." Jack reached for PJ's hand and drew the boy to him. "Now, come over here and sit down. Come on, sit. Now calm down." He stared hard at PJ. "Tell me the truth, Tiger. You've already gotten me this contract, haven't you!"

PJ nodded. He snuffled and wiped his nose. "I got it for you as a Christmas present." Looking up, he asked, "How did you know?"

"Because I know you, and I'm not as dumb as I look. And I hear things." He sighed, then added, "I don't always believe 'em, but I do sometimes hear things."

Jack thought for awhile. Finally he said quietly, "it means that much to you?" He waved the paper. "All this stuff?"

PJ wiped his eyes on his sleeve and nodded.

"Okay, Tiger," Jack said resignedly. "Okay. I'll do it."

PJ lifted his head. "You promise you'll be my friend? For one whole year? An' you'll come to the Father-Son Dinner?"

"Yeah, I promise." Jack held his hand out, but then just as quickly pulled it back. "No, wait a second. I promise on one condition."

"What's that," PJ said suspiciously.

"The condition is, that you don't say a word to anybody about this," Jack replied in a serious tone of voice.

"Okay."

"I mean it, Tiger. If any reporters get hold of this, well . . ."--he ran his hand over his head--"well, it wouldn't be good, that's for sure. You've got to promise me that this stays just between the two of us."

"I promise."

Jack held his hand back out. "Okay. Then it's a deal. I give you my word."

Solemnly, the boy and the man shook hands.

Jack checked the paper again. "You want me to be here for Christmas, right?"

PJ nodded.

"Alright. I can't be here for Christmas Eve. I'm supposed to dress up and play Santa for the kids at a Social Service Center in Boston. But I'll be here Christmas Day."

After a moment's reflection he added, "I guess it might be nice to have a place to go on Christmas for a change." Then he got up. "Is this your only copy?" He waved the paper again.

PJ shook his head. "I've saved it on my computer."

"I'm keeping this one, then." Jack stuffed it in his pocket. "I wanna be sure you don't start adding things."

"Jack, if you make the All-Star team, will you take me to the game?"

"Is that on the list?"

PJ shook his head. "I think I forgot to put it on."

Jack smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Then we'll have to talk about it, take it to the negotiation table, as they say in the Big Leagues. Come on, let's walk back. I've gotta roll outta here."

They got up and started to walk slowly back across the dark, silent campus. PJ felt drained of energy, exhausted in the aftermath of what Jack had called "negotiation." He tried keeping as close to Jack as possible, letting his shoulder brush against the man's coat sleeve, wanting desperately for Jack to put an arm around him, for a hug, a pat, something. . .

"Jack?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"You're not mad, are you?"

"No."

But he is, PJ thought. This is all wrong!

He wanted to feel happy. After all, his backup plan had worked. Jack was coming for more visits--a whole year of them. He was coming for Christmas. But Jack wasn't coming because he wanted to; that was for sure. Jack had been right. He had bought Jack's friendship. It hadn't been freely given.

 

PJ's stomach was churning. Instead of being happy, he just felt sick.

 

* * *

 

CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT SIX

 

Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com