Talent Softball Game
Rolo lay at the end of the bench
where a patch of
grass made a nice bed. He looked
at Big Mike, whose
head bobbed up and down as he
chattered, “Atta
boy, Harry. Nice and easy. Hey, batta, batta, swing!”
Rolo watched the next pitch float
from Harry’s hand.
It went up into the sky; too
high, Rolo thought, and
too far off the plate. The ball fell into the dirt a foot
outside and
kicked up a cloud of dust. “Ball!” Carl
Hicks cried, and Harry Reems
slapped his glove on
his right thigh. Lizzie DeLay griped,
“Harry, get
the ball over the fuggin' plate, could
you?” Rolo
yawned and stretched a little,
bothered by a fly that
Settled above his right eye. Lizzie doesn’t really
understand the game and cusses too
much, Rolo
realized, rising to stroll to the
other end of the bench
where his bowl of water and tennis ball lay. He took
A drink and nudged the ball with
his nose, feeling
good, certain he could play if only
they’d let him. Rolo
could feel a sense of bitterness
and frustration begin
to gnaw at him, knowing he’d soon
bite Lizzie again.
TS
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