Sliding into Home Read online

  “Oh,” Joelle said. “Right.” She could hardly remember even going to social studies, much less who was in the class. She had too many other things on her mind.

  A few minutes later the girls reached Joelle’s house. “Do you want to come in for a while?” Joelle asked.

  Elizabeth checked her watch. “Well, I would, but my dad’ll be home soon. I should probably start supper.”

  “You cook?” Joelle raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Some,” Elizabeth admitted. “I don’t mind, though. It’s just me and my dad, anyway. And I kind of like cooking.”

  Joelle knew Elizabeth didn’t have any brothers or sisters. She wasn’t sure what the story was with Elizabeth’s mom. There clearly wasn’t a mom around, but Elizabeth had never said why.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Elizabeth waved.

  Joelle nodded and slid her key into the lock. She pushed open the front door and stepped inside.

  This place sure didn’t feel like home. It was too new. And too … white. Every single room in the whole house was white with beige carpeting. Maybe it would be better when all the boxes were gone and the pictures were up and the windows had curtains instead of disposable paper shades.

  But she doubted it.

  Joelle dropped her backpack in the entryway and kicked off her tennis shoes. What a day! She headed into the living room, flopped down on the couch, and put her feet up on one of the moving boxes.

  “We’re all going to be so happy here,” Mom had said last week. “You know, Joelle, your dad and I both grew up in small towns like Greendale. Once you settle in, you’ll see how nice it is to live in a place like this.”

  Yeah, right, Joelle said to herself. Living in a little town like this is just what I’ve always dreamed of. She thought about her friend Eric back in Minneapolis. He was probably at baseball practice right this minute. And her brother Jason. He was in college, but if they had stayed there at least they could have seen him on weekends. Now they’d be lucky to see him on holidays. But her parents didn’t seem too upset about that.

  “Jason’s eighteen,” her mom had told her. “He needs to lead his own life now. You’ll find a place for yourself here, too, Joelle. Wait and see.”

  Ha! Joelle thought. There was no place for her here if she couldn’t play baseball.

  She wandered upstairs to her room. She only had a couple of boxes left to unpack. Mostly odds and ends, things from Jason’s old room that he hadn’t taken with him to his offcampus apartment: old pennants, a baseball bank, the big stuffed banana he’d won at the state fair.

  Joelle flopped down on her bed and picked up the baseball she always kept on her bedside table next to her clock radio. This was the home-run ball from the state tournament two years ago. The home-run ball that Jason had hit and Joelle had caught in the stands!

  It was an amazing catch. Of course, Joelle always sat in line with the shortstop at Jason’s games. She knew her brother’s homers usually sailed right over the shortstop’s head. But still, the odds of his hitting a homer right at Joelle during a playoff game—and her actually catching it—had to be about a zillion to one.

  Joelle traced the thread of the ball with her finger. Everybody in south Minneapolis knew Jason Cunningham and his kid sister Joelle. Here, nobody had ever heard of either of them. It was a lonely feeling. Joelle would give anything to talk to her brother right now, like she used to every day.

  She sat up quickly. Hey, why couldn’t she call him? It was long distance, but her parents had promised she could talk to Jason as often as she wanted.

  Joelle leaped off the bed and ran across the hall to her parents’ bedroom. She dodged the moving boxes and finally located the phone on the floor.

  Just punching in Jason’s number made Joelle feel better. Her brother knew how she felt about playing baseball. Maybe he’d even have some ideas for how she could change that coach’s mind.

  But the phone rang three … four … five times, and then an answering machine clicked on. “Hey, we’re either out or we’re busy,” a strange voice said. It definitely wasn’t Jason’s. “Leave a message and we’ll get back to you.”

  Joelle’s heart sank. Obviously her brother had more important things to do than talk to her. She hung up without leaving a message.

  “So, how was everyone’s day?” Dad said cheerfully as the three of them sat down to dinner. Steam rose from the take-out cartons in the middle of the table. Even without looking, Joelle knew it was chicken chow mein and beef with broccoli.

  “Just fine,” Mom replied. “I wasn’t at my desk ten minutes before Noreen dropped a huge pile of briefs on my desk.” Joelle’s mother was a paralegal. Today had been her first day at the new law office. Joelle’s dad managed a Bear Foods store. His supervisor back in Minneapolis had offered him his own store in Greendale, which was why the family had moved here.

  “Good,” Dad said, helping himself to the chow mein. “I have to say, it sure is nice being home at six o’clock.”

  “No more long commute,” Mom said with a smile. She passed the carton of rice to Joelle. “So how about you, honey? How was your day?”

  “Yeah, how does the new baseball team look?” Dad asked.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Joelle said glumly as she dug into the rice. “The coach didn’t let me hang around too long.”

  Dad’s chopsticks stopped halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean, the coach didn’t let you hang around? You made the team, didn’t you?”

  Joelle shook her head. “I didn’t get to try out.”

  “What?” Dad asked.

  “Why not?” Mom asked.

  Joelle shrugged and dumped some beef with broccoli onto her plate. “As long as there’s a softball team at Hoover, I can’t play baseball.” She slammed the carton down, splashing brown sauce on her wrist.

  Dad pushed his glasses up on his nose. “You can’t be serious.”

  Joelle licked the sauce off her wrist. “If I wanted to play football, they’d have to let me try out because they don’t have a girls’ football team. But since Hoover has a softball team, they don’t have to let me try out for baseball.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Dad said. “Softball and baseball aren’t the same sport.”

  “That’s what I told them.” Joelle repeated to her parents everything Ms. Fenner, Coach Carlyle, and Mr. White had said.

  “So I don’t get it,” she finished. “Mr. White says if they start letting girls play baseball, then they’ll have to drop a girls’ sport. How is that fair?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I guess you’d have to bring that up with the school board or the superintendent,” Dad said.

  “Is that the person who makes all the school rules?” Joelle asked.

  “Basically,” Dad replied. “At least he enforces them.”

  Joelle chewed thoughtfully. “Okay. Maybe I should talk to the superintendent, then,” she said. “If I could show him that softball and baseball are different, then they might let me play, right?”

  “Hold on a minute, Joelle,” Mom said. “I’m not sure you want to go to the superintendent.”

  “Why not?” Joelle asked.

  “Yes, why not?” Dad echoed. He looked surprised.

  “Well, we’re new here,” Mom said slowly. “And this is a small town. How will it look if we run down to the superintendent’s office right away and start complaining?”

  “It’ll look like Joelle’s really serious about playing baseball,” Dad said. He wiped his mouth. “If there’s a district policy that says girls can’t play baseball, we’ll never get around it at the school level. We’ll have to go higher.”

  “I can’t live in a town where they won’t let me play baseball, Mom,” Joelle said.

  Mom sighed. “I know baseball is important to you, honey.” She looked at Dad. “Maybe Joelle’s right. I suppose it can’t hurt to at least talk to the superintendent. I just don’t want people to get the wrong impression. They don’t know us and—”
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  “That’s exactly the problem,” Joelle broke in. “If they knew me—or if they knew Jason, anyway—they’d never try to stop me from playing.”

  “I think the school district administration building is down the street from my store. I’ll see if I can make time to go over there later this week, okay, Joelle?” Dad asked.

  Later this week? Baseball tryouts were already over! Joelle didn’t have time to mess around. She had to get on the team now. “Maybe I should just go by myself,” Joelle said. “Tomorrow after school.”

  “By yourself?” Mom nearly choked on a piece of broccoli.

  “Sure,” Joelle said, shrugging. “I’m not a baby or anything.”

  “I’m sure Joelle can handle it, Lynn,” Dad said. “Greendale isn’t Minneapolis. In fact, it might even be better this way. Let her plead her own case.”

  Mom thought for a minute. “Well, okay,” she agreed finally. “I suppose another advantage to living in a small town is that Joelle can have a little more independence.”

  “That’s right.” Dad smiled and turned to Joelle. “If anyone can convince the superintendent to take another look at the rules, you can, honey.”

  Joelle grinned at the pride in her dad’s voice. It’s true, she thought. I can do this.

  It wasn’t like she was asking for anything unreasonable.

  All she wanted was a chance to play baseball.

  Chapter Three

  Joelle’s alarm went off at six o’clock sharp the next morning. She groaned as she rolled over. She was tempted to hit the snooze button, but then she wouldn’t get her morning jog in. Even if she wasn’t officially on the Hoover baseball team yet, she had to keep in shape.

  She switched off her alarm, yawned, and dragged herself out of bed. Then she pulled on a pair of sweats and Jason’s old Twins sweatshirt. After a quick glass of orange juice and a few stretching exercises in the front yard, she set off down Morgan Road.

  Greendale didn’t have much of a downtown. Not in comparison to Minneapolis, anyway. But there was a grassy area in the middle of a group of shops—the Town Square, Dad called it. That was where Joelle headed.

  The sun warmed Joelle’s back as she jogged through town. A heavy dew blanketed the grass and car windshields. The day smelled fresh and clean. That’s one good thing about moving to Greendale, Joelle thought. It’s definitely warmer here than it was back home. There was still snow on the ground when we left Minneapolis.

  As Joelle neared the corner of First and Main, she passed a post office and a bakery. Her mouth watered as she breathed in the sweet aroma of fresh-baked donuts. Later, she told herself.

  She kept an easy pace as she jogged around the Square. Her dad’s store was just a block or two down Main Street. As she jogged past the entrance to a small park, the gray statue in the middle of the park caught her eye. It was a man sitting down, leaning his chin on his fist. He seemed to be thinking hard about something.

  Joelle was so busy looking at the statue that she didn’t notice another jogger rounding the corner in front of her.

  “Hey, wake up!” the person called.

  “What? Oops!” Joelle jumped aside.

  The boy running toward her stumbled a little as he tried to avoid a collision. He was wearing a gray Hoover sweatsuit and he looked about Joelle’s age.

  “Sorry,” she said as the runner regained his balance and jogged past her.

  “No problem,” he called over his shoulder.

  Joelle wiped a few drops of sweat from her forehead and turned to look at the boy again. He seemed familiar. Tall, with blond hair that was long on top and shaved up the back. Then she remembered. The rubber-band guy from baseball tryouts yesterday. The one who played first base. Her position.

  Joelle frowned and continued her jog. She wasn’t going to think about that right now.

  When she got home half an hour later, her parents were dressed for work and reading the paper at the kitchen table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air.

  “Wow, you guys never hung around like this in the morning before,” Joelle commented. She grabbed the towel that was hanging from the stove handle and wiped it across her face.

  “That’s because we never had time before,” Dad said.

  “Not with a forty-five minute commute ahead of us,” Mom added. She shook her head. “Joelle, please don’t use the dish towel as a sweat towel.”

  “I’ll put it in the hamper,” Joelle said. She went upstairs to shower and dress.

  When she returned to the kitchen, her parents were getting ready to leave.

  “Joelle, I checked my schedule for today,” Dad said. “I could probably get away for an hour or so after school if you want me to go with you to the superintendent’s office.”

  “You don’t have to,” Joelle said as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. “I can handle it by myself.”

  “Are you sure?” Mom asked, sounding a little doubtful.

  “I’m sure,” Joelle said.

  “Well, I looked up the address for you.” Dad slid a scrap of paper across the table to Joelle. “The superintendent’s office is in Greendale Educational Center, just a block or two off the Square.”

  Joelle nodded. “Great. Thanks, Dad.”

  “Good luck, honey.” Mom kissed the top of Joelle’s head on her way out the door. “And remember, keep your cool.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Joelle rolled her eyes.

  After her parents were gone, Joelle opened the sports section of the Greendale Gazette. It was pretty small. Nothing like the Minneapolis Tribune. But she wanted to see how the Twins had done in their preseason game yesterday. She was keeping her eye on Dave Hillmer, a rookie from Georgia. Joelle was sure he’d make it to the majors this season. Jason had said no way. Which only made Joelle want to see it happen even more.

  She shoveled cereal into her mouth and scanned past a few articles on the Iowa Hawkeyes, a college team. The Hawkeyes sure were a big deal around here. Fine, but where were the Twins? This newspaper was useless. Another strike against Greendale.

  Wait a minute. Joelle sat up a little straighter. The Trib never covered middle school baseball, but the neighborhood Free Press did. That paper had run several articles on her team last year. Joelle’s stats were in them. One had even featured a picture of her.

  Joelle had saved every one of those articles. She had stacked them in a neat pile, tied a string around them, and stuck them in a special shoe box. The shoe box hadn’t been unpacked yet, but Joelle was pretty sure she knew which carton it was in. If she took that stack of articles with her to the superintendent’s office this afternoon, he’d see what a serious ball player she was. And while she was at it, maybe she should grab a few copies of Jason’s Trib articles from last year, too. That would show the superintendent that good baseball genes ran in the family.

  Leaving her breakfast unfinished, Joelle pushed back her chair and raced up the stairs.

  “You’re going to do what?” Elizabeth asked as the two of them walked to school together.

  Joelle switched her clarinet case to her other hand. “I’m going to the superintendent’s office after school today and see what I have to do for them to let me play baseball. Want to come with me?”

  “I can’t. I have softball.”

  “Oh, right.” Joelle glanced sideways at Elizabeth. “Hey, maybe you should think about switching to baseball.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Sure, why not? You’ve got a great arm.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Thanks, Joelle, but no thanks.”

  Joelle dug into her backpack as she walked until she found her newspaper clippings. “Hey, I want to show you something. At my old school—” But before she could say more, a sudden gust of wind blew one of the articles out of her hands.

  “Yikes!” Joelle chased the paper across the grass and into the street. As she reached out to grab it, a cyclist skidded to a stop inches from her hand.

  Joelle looked up.
Oh no! It was the same boy she’d almost collided with earlier when she was out jogging. Rubber Band.

  He obviously recognized her, too. “You again?”

  Joelle’s cheeks burned. “Yeah, me again.”

  Elizabeth ran out into the street. “Are you okay?”

  “She’s fine,” the boy said. “I didn’t hit her.” He turned to Joelle. “You sure are a space case,” he said, shaking his head.

  Space case! Me? “I don’t think so.” Joelle snatched the clipping and stood up. She was almost the same height as Rubber Band, but she felt a whole lot smaller right now.

  “Sure,” he said. A breeze riffled through his hair. “Whatever you say.” With that, he pushed off on his bike and pedaled away.

  “Maybe you should watch where you’re going for a change!” Joelle called after him. But he had already turned the corner.

  “Did you get your article?” Elizabeth asked as the two of them stepped back onto the sidewalk.

  “Yep,” Joelle said, holding it up. “So who is that guy, anyway? I keep running into him.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know?”

  “Hey, give me a break,” Joelle said. “I just moved here, remember?”

  “He’s Ryan Carlyle,” Elizabeth replied. “As in Coach Carlyle’s son.”

  Chapter Four

  Hey, Joelle, we missed you at tryouts yesterday.” The girl at the locker three doors down looked over and smiled. Joelle almost didn’t recognize her. It was the girl with the bouncy blond ponytail from her gym class. Brooke, she remembered. But today, instead of sweats and a T-shirt, Brooke had on a short black skirt with a trendy black and white blouse. Her hair hung in soft waves around her perfect face.

  Everything about the girl screamed POPULAR. So why was she talking to Joelle?

  “Um, Joelle, this is Brooke Hartle,” Elizabeth said, stepping out from behind Joelle. “Remember? She’s co-captain of our softball team.”