Centerfield Ballhawk (2009)
“He lay on his bed, wondering why things had gone sour with his father. Two weeks without baseball! He might as well have said two months.
If only I could make him proud of me again, José thought. Hitting .375 would do it. But how could he become a good hitter when he was one hundred percent grounded?
José groaned and punched his pillow. Then he had an idea. He could still read about baseball, couldn’t he? Maybe he’d pick up a few pointers. José got up and looked for his book on Little L...eague baseball.
But it wasn’t on the shelf. It was missing.
He looked up, down, and sideways for the book but couldn’t find it.
Somebody stole it, he thought. But who’d do that?
It had to have been Carmen. He knocked on her door and asked her about it.
“Yeah, I borrowed it,” his sister replied. She was eleven, a spitting image of their mother, who had died two years earlier.MoreLess
If only I could make him proud of me again, José thought. Hitting .375 would do it. But how could he become a good hitter when he was one hundred percent grounded?
José groaned and punched his pillow. Then he had an idea. He could still read about baseball, couldn’t he? Maybe he’d pick up a few pointers. José got up and looked for his book on Little L...eague baseball.
But it wasn’t on the shelf. It was missing.
He looked up, down, and sideways for the book but couldn’t find it.
Somebody stole it, he thought. But who’d do that?
It had to have been Carmen. He knocked on her door and asked her about it.
“Yeah, I borrowed it,” his sister replied. She was eleven, a spitting image of their mother, who had died two years earlier.MoreLess
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