"Babysitters Club 020 Kristy And The Walking Disaster" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babysitters Club)

"Kristy, Kristy, can I pitch now?" asked Jackie. "I want to try pitching."
"Good luck," Shea muttered sarcastically, but I was the only one who heard him.
Jackie took his place on the rock. He wound up his arm like professional ball players do. He threw straight to Shea - and somehow, somehow, the ball hit the house next door. Being, boing, boing, slurp. It bounced down the roof and landed in a rain-filled gutter.
"Jackie!" exclaimed Shea.
"Oh, brother," I said. "Now we're going to have to go over there and tell your neighbors there's a softball in their gutter."
"Don't worry about it," said Shea. "Four others are there, too. Our dad's going over on
Saturday to get them out. He can just get this one while he's at it."
"Do you have another ball?" I asked.
"We'll use a tennis ball," said Jackie, heading for the garage. "I'll get it. I want to try batting again. I know I can hit the ball."
Jackie was a disaster on the ball field, just like he was anywhere else, but he was determined to play. And he did hit the ball from time to time. He reminded me of David Michael. I really admired him.
While Jackie was getting the tennis ball, we heard a huge crash in the garage. Since I was tired of disasters, all I said was, "Whatever it is, pick it up, Jackie!"
"Okay!" he shouted back.
Jackie returned with the tennis ball.
"Anything broken in there?" I asked.
"Nope."
A miracle.
Jackie handed the ball to Shea, who pitched it to him.
"Keep your eye on the ball!" I called.
Whack! Jackie slammed the ball. "I hit it!" he yelled, and made a dash for first base.
Shea caught it on the fly, but Jackie kept running. He ran all the way around the yard to home plate, where he was met by Shea. Shea held the tennis ball in Jackie's face. "Fly
ball," he informed him. "You're out. Jackie, you will never be in Little League." He didn't have to add, "Because no one would want you," but that's what he meant, and we all knew it.
"Yes, I will," replied Jackie stubbornly. "I will be in Little League. I'll practice and practice. I'll get as good as you. I'll get better than you. I'll be the best player in the universe." Jackie punctuated his speech by tripping over his shoelace.
Sheesh. He's even worse than David Michael, I thought. But I was pretty sure I had a new member for my softball team. A few minutes later, I was positive. I noticed that the worse Jackie played, the harder he tried. He wouldn't give up. Maybe he just needed some confidence and coaching. Watson had said those things were very important. (Watson, by the way, had been extremely flattered when I'd gone to him about organizing a team. He had also been extremely helpful and extremely nice.)
I told Jackie about my softball team. Jackie's face lit up like candles on a birthday cake. I kind of wished Watson could have seen that smile.
That night I got some interesting phone calls.
The first was from Jessi Ramsey. "Guess what," she said. "Matt Braddock wants to be on your team."
"Great!" I exclaimed. Matt's a terrific kid and a terrific ball player - but he was born deaf. He can't hear or speak. You have to communicate with him using sign language. Luckily, a lot of the kids in Stoneybrook learned some sign language after they met Matt, so this isn't much of a problem.
Then Mallory called. "I talked to my brothers and sisters. Nicky, Claire, and Margo want to be on your team," she said. "I tried to talk Vanessa into it, but she's not interested. And the triplets are in Little League."
Next to call was Dawn, saying that two of the three Barrett kids she often sits for were interested, plus three friends of theirs (whom I didn't know).
The last call was from Claudia. "I haven't found a single kid for your team," she wailed.
"Don't worry about it," I told her. "I've got twenty already."
"Wow!"
"Yeah."
It was time for a planning session with Watson.
Chapter 6.
Boy. I did not have any idea what I was getting myself into when I decided to coach a softball team, even after I talked to Watson. It seemed like such a nice thing to do - organize a team for kids who were too embarrassed or too young to be in Little League or to play T-ball. Well, it was a nice thing. I knew that. And Watson knew that, which was why he was so encouraging. But it was also . . . Well, you'll see what happened.
Anyway, as soon as I found out that twenty kids wanted to be on my team, I got to work. First, I made a few lists. The Baby-sitters Club is always doing this, and it's very helpful. One list, the most important, was of the names and ages of the kids on the team, and their special problems. It looked like this:
I looked at my list. I did a little math. The average age of my team was 5.8 years - just under six. These were young kids. Of course, if they were older, they'd have joined Little League. Well, some of them would have.
Then I made a list of questions to answer:
A zillion phone calls later, Watson and I had found answers to all but the last question. Thanks to Watson, we got permission to meet at the playground of Stoneybrook Elementary School. This was convenient since a lot of the kids lived nearby. We would meet on Tuesdays after school, and on Saturday afternoons.
Some of the club members volunteered to help me. Some of them also sounded pretty uncertain. For instance, Jessi said, "I'm a dancer, not an athlete. I barely know the difference between a football and a baseball." And Claudia said flat out, "I hate sports . . . but I'll help you." Mary Anne and Dawn were more helpful, and said, "We don't know much about sports, but we love the idea of your team. Just tell us how to help." Mallory was pure help: "I've lived with Little League for two seasons now. I know all there is to know about kids and ball games. I'll do anything - except watch Claire have a tantrum."
Tantrum? Uh-oh.
The purpose of the team? Watson and I talked about that for a long time, and Watson
did not say one jerky thing. We agreed that the purpose of the team was the reason I'd started it - to coach kids who wanted to improve their playing skills, but more importantly, just to have fun. I figured I could put the twenty kids on two sides each time we met, and we could have a game - after coaching. Coaching first, 1 decided, then a game. Maybe just a seven-inning game, or an even shorter one. Coaching (and I promised myself I would never lose my temper with any kid, no matter what) followed by a game should be a lot of fun.
Does Bart think I'm cute? Well, how would I know? Maybe the better question was, Had Bart thought I was cute? I hadn't seen him since I'd walked Shannon over to his house. And I'd probably never see him again, considering we went to different schools and had different friends. I tried to put Bart and my Gigantic Crush out of my mind.
That was not too difficult. On Saturday afternoon, we held our first team meeting. Every single kid showed up! So did Dawn and Mallory.
"Where'd you get all that equipment?" Dawn asked me in awe, as she looked at the things surrounding me - four bats, five mitts, a
catcher's mask, a softball, and a wiffle ball (for Gabble).
"Oh, it's all ours. With six kids in your family," (1 count Andrew and Karen as part of my family, of course), "two of whom are guys in high school, you'd be surprised at what accumulates. Some of it's mine. The only thing we're low on is balls. All Sam and Charlie have are hardballs, and I couldn't find any tennis balls."
The twenty kids gathered around me eagerly. We were standing at the edge of the blacktopped part of the playground, near a four-square court. I saw that a few parents had come along, and I began to feel nervous. I felt like a teacher on her first day at school when some parents have stuck around to see how good she is. One of the mothers was Mrs. Braddock, and I knew she was just there to translate everything I said into sign language for Matt, but still. . . .