Curveball Read online

  UNDERCOVER REPORTER

  The talk on the bus ride to Memorial that Wednesday was about the latest article in the school paper.

  “‘My Way’? Where is Calvin getting this stuff anyway?”

  “He told me he has a ‘confidential’ source on the team.”

  “Must be some bigmouth, huh? Somebody who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

  “That would be Spencer.”

  “It ain’t me. You think I’d make fun of my own socks?”

  “Maybe it’s Miguel.”

  “Maybe it’s Coach Wimmer.”

  “Not me. I’m the one who thinks I belong in the Hall of Fame, remember?”

  “‘Major Talent’! What kind of a name is that?”

  Eddie squirmed a bit in his seat, but he could tell that no one was angry. In fact, everyone seemed pretty amused by the whole thing.

  ALSO BY RICH WALLACE

  Restless: A Ghost’s Story

  Losing Is Not an Option

  Playing Without the Ball

  Shots on Goal

  Wrestling Sturbridge

  Winning Season Series

  The Roar of the Crowd

  Technical Foul

  Fast Company

  Double Fake

  Emergency Quarterback

  Southpaw

  Dunk Under Pressure

  Takedown

  WINNING SEASON

  CURVEBALL

  RICH WALLACE

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi-110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Viking,

  a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2007

  Published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2008

  Copyright © Rich Wallace, 2007

  All rights reserved

  THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE VIKING EDITION AS FOLLOWS:

  Wallace, Rich.

  Curveball / Rich Wallace.

  p. cm.—( Winning season; #9 )

  Summary: Seventh-grade baseball player Eddie Ventura listens to the sports announcer’s voice in his head and gets into trouble when he writes a series of articles for the school paper.

  ISBN: 978-1-1012-0059-9(hc)

  [1. Baseball—Fiction. 2. Journalism—Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7. W15877 Cur 2007

  [Fic] 2006016882

  Puffin Books

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  FOR JACOB

  CURVEBALL

  CONTENTS

  1. Two Runs Down

  2. Deep in Thought

  3. Instincts

  4. Big Doings

  5. “Major Talent”

  6. Flem’s Return

  7. Time Off

  8. A Pitcher’s Nightmare

  9. All or Nothing

  10. No Fear

  11. Special Edition

  1

  Two Runs Down

  Eddie Ventura scanned the infield, then dug his toe into the dirt near first base. His right hand was sweating inside his glove despite the cool afternoon breeze.

  Everyone in the dugout and the bleachers was standing, waiting for Ramiro Velez to deliver the crucial pitch.

  Eddie took a deep breath and went into a crouch, ready to dart toward any ball that was hit or thrown his way. The Hudson City Hornets had to get this next hitter out.

  “Let’s go, Ramiro!” Eddie called. “No batter!”

  Ramiro turned his head slightly toward Eddie, and a faint smile crossed his lips. Eddie hardly ever said anything.

  Hoboken had runners at second and third with two outs in the top of the final inning. Hudson City would get one more at-bat, but the Hornets were already two runs behind.

  Ramiro leaned back, kicked up his leg, and hurled the ball toward the plate. The batter swung hard, but the ball smacked into catcher Jared Owen’s mitt for strike three.

  Ramiro shook his fist.

  “Yes!” said Eddie as they raced off the field.

  “Big rally now,” Spencer Lewis said to Eddie as they grabbed their bats from the rack. “We need some base runners.”

  Spencer was the team’s best hitter and biggest talker, but the Hornets needed to get at least two men on base or Spencer wouldn’t even bat.

  And things didn’t look good as Willie Shaw popped the first pitch lazily toward second base. Eddie groaned with the rest of the Hornets as the fielder easily caught the ball.

  Lamont Wilkins struck out, and just like that the Hornets were down to their last out.

  Jared stepped up to the plate. Eddie shut his eyes quickly, then moved to the on-deck circle.

  Relax, Eddie told himself. Time to do something big here.

  Eddie was a fair hitter—a lefty—but no way was he one of the stars. He’d had three singles in the first six games and had drawn a couple of walks. But he’d never been one to really come through in the clutch the way Spencer or Jared always seemed to.

  The Hornets had lost their first four games this season, but they were presently riding a modest two-game winning streak. A third straight victory today would be an enormous boost, but a loss would put them back in a deep hole.

  Eddie’s tall, thin build didn’t provide much power, except in his imagination. On deck for the Hudson City Hornets—EDDIEEE Ven-TUR-a, he thought, sounding to himself like one of the broadcasters for the New York Yankees. If Jared can get on base here, the hard-hitting Ventura will surely make something happen.

  A burst of cheers broke Eddie from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Jared sprinting toward first base. Eddie gripped the bat tighter.

  Jared rounded first and kept on going, sliding safely into second with a double.

  Spencer stepped out of the dugout and gave Eddie a firm punch on the shoulder. “Grind time, Mr. Ventura,” Spencer said. “It’s up to you now, boss.”

  Eddie swallowed hard. He walked to the plate and took a practice swing. He heard that imaginary radio voice again: Ventura could homer and tie this game with one swing of the bat. But then again, he’d never hit a home run in his life.

  The pitcher took the throw from the second baseman and turned to face Eddie. He squinted and glared. Eddie glared back, trying to look tougher than he felt.

  This guy had struck Eddie out twice today. He had a wicked fastball and a decent curve. But he had to be tiring by now.

  Jared took a short lead off second base. Eddie drew back his bat and waited. The first pitch was low and outside. Ball o
ne.

  “Good eye, Eddie!” came a cry.

  The second pitch was high and outside. Eddie stepped out of the batter’s box and glanced toward the Hornets’ dugout.

  “A walk’s as good as a hit,” Coach Wimmer called.

  Eddie let out his breath. It was true. He didn’t need a home run. He didn’t even need a single. All he had to do was get on base and keep this inning alive.

  Eddie crouched a little lower and inched closer to the plate, trying to shrink his strike zone. The third pitch looked good, maybe a little low, but right down the center of the plate.

  Eddie didn’t flinch. The umpire called, “Ball three!” and the pitcher shook his head in frustration.

  The Hoboken catcher turned to the umpire.

  “It was low,” the umpire said.

  The catcher called time and jogged to the mound to talk to the pitcher. Eddie’s teammates were rattling the fence in front of their dugout. Spencer was grinning confidently at Eddie from the on-deck circle. “Gut check!” Spencer said. “Be the man.”

  Eddie wiped his sweaty palms on his uniform pants. A hundred things crossed his mind at once. Nobody swung on a 3–0 count, so the pitcher would be playing it safe. He’d groove one right down the middle. Eddie could bunt it, then run like mad toward first base.

  Or, he thought, This kid Ventura has the ability to hit away, driving the ball deep into the outfield and bringing Jared home.

  Or he could play it safe, too, like he knew he was supposed to. Take the pitch even if it was a strike.

  And here it came, waist-high but inside. Eddie leaned back as the ball whizzed by.

  “Ball four,” called the umpire. “Take your base.”

  Eddie couldn’t help but smile as he jogged toward first. The dugout fence was shaking and rattling again; Miguel and Lamont and the others were yelling his name.

  The Hoboken coach walked to the mound and chatted with the pitcher, but he left him in the game.

  Eddie stepped off first base, tensed and ready to sprint all the way home if he needed to.

  Here came the pitch, here came the smack as Spencer connected, the Oooh from the spectators, and the roar from the Hudson City dugout as the ball shot deep into right field. Eddie ran hard, but he turned slightly to watch as the ball sailed over the fence and into the parking lot.

  That’s gone! said the announcer in his mind.

  Eddie threw his arms straight over his head and laughed as he stepped on second base. He watched Jared leap onto home plate, then rounded third and raced home to do the same. And with all of his teammates, he waited for Spencer and his enormous, triumphant grin.

  They mobbed him. Three straight wins. The Hornets were definitely back in business.

  2

  Deep in Thought

  Eddie was taking his books out of his locker the next morning when Calvin Tait walked up and grabbed his arm.

  “What’s up, Tait?” Eddie asked.

  “I need a favor, Ventura. I need an article on yesterday’s baseball game by this afternoon, and I don’t have time to write it. I still have to write up Monday’s softball game, and I’ve got a track meet of my own right after school.”

  “So?”

  “So Mr. Lobianco says you’re an awesome writer. Plus you’re on the team. Can you give me three hundred words by one o’clock?”

  “I never wrote a sports article before,” Eddie mumbled.

  “No time like now to start. You guys won yesterday, right? It’ll be easy.”

  Calvin was the newly appointed sports editor of the school paper, The Hornet Highlights. In fact, he was the entire staff of the sports department. Every week he wrote short articles about each team’s results. The paper was usually just four pages, with one page devoted to sports. It was printed right from a computer at the school and was distributed on Wednesday mornings.

  Eddie thought it over for a moment. He loved reading Sports Illustrated and the coverage of the Yankees and Knicks and Giants in the New York Post. This might be fun. And he could probably get some free time to write at the end of English class, especially since Mr. Lobianco was the adviser to the newspaper. He could finish the article at lunch.

  “All right, I’ll do it,” Eddie said.

  “You’re the man,” Calvin said. “I’ll make sure you get a byline.”

  “No. I don’t want one,” Eddie said.

  A byline would identify him as the writer of the article: “By Eddie Ventura.” Spencer and the others would get on him about that for sure.

  “I’d rather nobody knew who wrote it,” Eddie said. “Keep it a secret. Or even better, just let them think you wrote it. You write everything else in that section.”

  “Whatever you want,” Calvin said. “I’ll owe you one.”

  Eddie made some notes about the game during math class, jotting down the name of the winning pitcher, the team’s record, a few things Coach Wimmer had said after the game. When he reached the classroom for English, Mr. Lobianco was waiting for him at the doorway.

  “Calvin told me you’re going to help us out,” the teacher said. “Tell you what: how about if I write you a pass to the computer lab and you can work on the article now?”

  “Sounds great.”

  So Eddie walked to the computer lab and took a seat at one of the terminals.

  He’d read hundreds of sports articles in the past few years, but that didn’t seem to make it any easier to get started on one.

  What was the most important thing about that game? he wondered. That should be my lead.

  Eddie started typing:

  The Hudson City seventh-grade baseball team took a big step forward Tuesday, rallying in the bottom of the final inning to beat Hoboken, 6–5.

  The victory moved the Hornets’ record to three wins and four losses and placed them back in contention for the league title. It was the team’s third straight win after a rocky beginning to the season.

  Okay, Eddie thought. So much for the basics. Now he needed to insert some play-by-play excitement into the article. Mr. Lobianco always said, “Write what you know best.” So Eddie thought hard about what he’d been feeling in that final inning.

  The Hornets trailed by two runs in the seventh when first baseman Eddie Ventura sparked a late rally that led to the win. After Jared Owen reached second base with a double, Ventura stepped to the plate.

  With every eye in the ballpark focused on the batter, Ventura dug in and glared at Hoboken’s best pitcher. It was clear that Ventura’s cool, calm stare rattled the hurler, who threw four shaky pitches that were all out of the strike zone. Ventura had drawn a walk! He flipped his bat toward the dugout and confidently jogged to first base.

  The next batter, Spencer Lewis, finished the job with a game-winning three-run homer.

  Eddie stopped typing and looked around the lab. A copy of that day’s New York Times newspaper was sitting on a table. He grabbed it and turned to the sports section.

  He read through an article on yesterday’s Yankees-Tigers game, then glanced at an interview with the Knicks’ coach.

  Quotes, Eddie told himself. All of these articles include comments from the key players.

  He could interview Spencer or Ramiro, perhaps, but he was running out of time. So he decided to quote himself. He started typing again.

  “I knew I had to get on base,” Ventura said after the game. “If he’d thrown a good pitch, I would have nailed it, but as Coach Wimmer always tells us, ‘A walk is as good as a hit.’ I was just happy to do my part to get us the victory.”

  Pitcher Ramiro Velez was credited with the win for the Hornets in relief of starter Miguel Rivera.

  Next up for the Hornets is Friday’s game at Weehawken.

  Eddie looked at the clock. He’d been writing for nearly an hour! He was already late for his next class.

  He quickly e-mailed the article to Calvin and gathered his books. Fortunately his next class was history—taught by Coach Wimmer.

  Coach was standing in front of
the class talking as Eddie quietly slipped into the room.

  Coach raised his eyebrows, and his fat, pink face stretched into a grin. “Nice of you to show up, Eddie,” he said. “You’re only fifteen minutes late.”

  Eddie blushed. “I was, um, doing something for Mr. Lobianco,” he said.

  Coach Wimmer rubbed his bald head with his fingertips. “So he wrote you a pass?”

  “Yeah. But…the pass was for last period. I turned it in at the computer lab. I lost track of time.”

  Coach nodded and gave Eddie a sarcastic-looking smile. “I guess that bell isn’t loud enough, huh?”

  “I sort of didn’t hear it,” Eddie said quietly. “I was deep in thought.”

  Most of the class laughed at that.

  “Eddie’s a deep thinker, all right,” Spencer said.

  “He’s like a philosopher or something,” said Lamont. “He thinks a lot more than he talks.”

  “He’d better be thinking more,” Spencer said, “because he almost never says anything.”

  Coach just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Where were we?” he said. And he got right back to the lecture.

  That was one of the things Eddie and the other players loved about Coach Wimmer—he knew when to cut them a break. He’d been coaching and teaching for so long that he knew how kids’ minds worked. They wanted to do the right thing, but it didn’t always come out as planned. Coach could always laugh at the mess-ups, especially when he saw that an honest effort had been made.

  Eddie let out his breath and opened his notebook. A ball of paper hit him on the arm. He tossed it back at Spencer and grinned.

  Eddie didn’t mind getting busted by the guys. He knew he was the quietest player on the team. He didn’t quite know why he was so quiet, especially considering his family.

  Eddie’s father was a lawyer, and his mother was a third-grade teacher. They talked all day long for a living. His older brother, Lenny, was a student across the river at New York University and was also thinking about going to law school. And his sister, Irene, was president of the junior class at Hudson City High School. So it didn’t figure much that Eddie wasn’t a talker, except that it was hard for him to get a word in at all in a household like that.