Just after I got home I had one of the worst moments of my whole life. I'd forgotten my card binder! I'd left it in the Finches' dugout when I was talking with Dylan about that stupid spider. It felt like I'd left my right arm somewhere.
I called the Finches' locker room. Dylan answered.
"It's me. Is the game still going on?"
"Yeah. And Sparky is done with his web!"
"Sparky?"
"Sparky the Spider."
"You named that thing?"
"No, I just call him Sparky."
"That's naming him!"
"Maybe. By the way, you left your binder here."
"I know-that's why I called. I wanted to make sure it was OK."
"It's fine. Do you want me to put it in your locker?"
"Keep it overnight," I said. "Take good care of it. But feel free to look through it. There're some cool cards in there."
"Sure," Dylan promised. "Gotta go. I want to see if Sparky's caught any bugs yet."
· · ·
I overslept the next morning. We batboys had to be at the ballpark two hours before the game started. I would have to hurry to get there on time.
It was my own fault. I'd listened to the rest of the game on the radio before I went to sleep. The Porcupines finally won in the thirteenth inning. Tommy Harris hit a triple, and Mike Stammer brought him in with a sacrifice fly. It would have been so great to be there. I knew what Uncle Rick meant about never leaving a game early. Too bad Mom and Dad didn't understand.
I got dressed, bounded down the stairs, and ate a bowl of cereal.
Mom saw me put the bowl in the dishwasher.
"Do you need lunch?" she asked.
"I can get a hot dog at the ballpark."
"You've been eating a lot of hot dogs lately," she said. "Why don't I pack you a lunch while you walk the dog?"
"Oh, yeah." It was my job to walk our dog in the morning. Penny was near her food bowl. She looked up at me with great big eyes and made a whimpering noise.
"Hi, girl." I reached for the food bin.
"She's already had breakfast," said Mom.
"Aw, Mom. She wants more," I said. Penny was still staring at me. "It would make her happy."
"She's happy when she's eating a second breakfast," said Mom. "She's not happy when she's all out of breath on a short walk."
"She just has little legs." I took a handful of kibble and put it in my pocket.
Mom didn't notice. "Walk the dog while I make your lunch," she said.
I could still be on time if I hurried. I put the leash on Penny and took her out for a quick trot around the block.
Mom was right-Penny was panting before we got to the corner. She was getting kind of roly-poly these days. She was still cute, though.
"Hi, Chad!"
I turned and saw Abby. She waved at me from across the street. Abby worked for the Pines too, and was in my grade at school. She ran across the street to meet us.
"I'm going to the ballpark early," she explained. She reached out and let Penny lick her hand. "It's a big day. They're giving out bobbleheads. Hey, aren't you supposed to be there by now?"
"I'm leaving as soon as I'm done walking the dog." I took the dog food from my pocket and fed it to Penny.
"I'll walk to the ballpark with you," said Abby.
"We're going to have to walk fast," I told her. Usually I rode my bike.
"No problem. I can walk superfast."
We took Penny home, and Mom gave me my lunch. I peeked at it. It was pasta salad and baby carrots.
"There's not even a cookie," I said.
"Just eat your lunch first," said Mom. "If you're still hungry, you can see if they have something at the ballpark that's halfway good for you."
"All right."
"Have fun and work hard," Mom said. She planted a smooch on top of my head. I was glad Abby had waited outside.
· · ·
Abby and I walked six blocks, crossed a field, waited for one traffic light, crossed the street, and turned the corner.
We stopped.
"Holy cow!" said Abby.
There were about a billion people crowded around Pine City Park.
"There are always lines on bobblehead day," I told her.
"But the game doesn't even start for two hours!"
"They're Spike bobbleheads," I reminded her. Spike was the Porcupines' new junior mascot. He was the biggest star of the season. Everybody loved that quill-covered porcupine kid. "Not everyone will get one," I added. "They're 'only available while supplies last.'"
"They must really want those bobbleheads," said Abby. We both knew something most people didn't: Abby was Spike. She put on a porcupine costume and played the part. She was great at it.
We started across the parking lot.
"Dad!" a little girl tugged on her father's shirttail. "Those kids are cutting!"
"Hey, what's the big idea?" the man asked.
"We're with the Pines," I said. "I'm a batboy."
"And I work in fan services," said Abby.
"Oh, I see," the man said. "Sorry for bothering you." He let us go past.
"No fair!" said the little girl.
"It's all right, Petunia," her dad said. "They work for the team."
"But it's not fair!" she said again. "They'll get the last two Spike bobbleheads. I just know it."
"No, they won't, Petunia," her father said.
"Show me your ticket, so I can see your seat number," Abby said to the girl. "I'll make sure you get a Spike bobblehead."
"Promise?" Petunia asked.
"Promise," said Abby.
"You can believe it," I added. "Abby and Spike are good friends."
