Karen's Home Run Read online

  This book is for four fans in Maine, Emily, Rebecca, Laura, and Peter, with love from Ann.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Kristy’s Krushers

  2 The Parade

  3 Special Days

  4 The Junk Bucket

  5 The Bicycle Brigade

  6 Home Run!

  7 Roller Blades and Nintendo

  8 Loser

  9 Don’t Give Up

  10 Karen’s Choice

  11 Karen’s Jinx

  12 Princess Emily

  13 A Real Team

  14 Bash Those Bashers!

  15 Dancing Nancy

  16 The Big Game

  17 Winners and Losers

  18 Memorial Day

  19 The Stoneybrook Parade

  20 Two Home Runs

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Copyright

  Kristy’s Krushers

  “Hello, everybody! I’m home!”

  “Hi, sweetie. We’re in the kitchen,” answered Mommy.

  I dropped my book bag on the floor. I ran into our kitchen. There were Mommy and Andrew. They were baking something. Andrew was wearing an apron. He is my little brother. He is four, going on five. And I am his big sister, Karen Brewer. I just turned seven.

  Andrew and I both have blond hair. We have some freckles, too. And we have blue eyes. But I am the only one of us who wears glasses. I even have two pairs. One pair is for reading. Those glasses are blue. The other pair is for the rest of the time. They are pink. (I do not have to wear the pink glasses when I am asleep, of course.)

  “How was school?” Mommy asked me.

  “Fine.”

  “Did you drop your book bag on the floor when you came in?”

  I am not supposed to do that. I thought about saying no. But Mommy would find the bag and then I would be in trouble. Not gigundo trouble. Just teensy trouble. I decided to tell the truth. It is always safer to do that.

  “Yes,” I said to Mommy. And before she could open her mouth, I ran out of the kitchen. I picked up my book bag. I stuck it in the closet. I put it right next to my softball glove and Andrew’s catcher’s mitt.

  “Hey, Andrew,” I said when I returned to the kitchen. “We have a Krushers practice today. Are you ready?”

  “I guess,” replied my brother. He did not look at me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him.

  “All the other kids on our team are playing better. Except me.”

  “Andrew, that is not true.”

  Andrew shrugged.

  My brother and I play on a softball team. The team is called Kristy’s Krushers. Guess who Kristy is. She is our big stepsister. I love her so, so much. And she is a very good softball coach. There are a whole bunch of kids on our team. Kristy teaches us lots of things. She is patient. We do not always play too well. But Kristy does not get mad at us.

  Kristy does not even get mad when we lose a game to Bart’s Bashers. The Bashers are the enemy team. They are kids, like us. But they are a little older. And they are better players. Usually, the Krushers lose when they play a game against the Bashers. We try hard, but we lose.

  By the way, Bart, the Bashers’ coach, is Kristy’s boyfriend. (Hee, hee, hee.)

  “Andrew,” I said. “You’re playing better, too. You are a very good catcher now. And before, you could hardly ever catch the ball. Remember?”

  “I am not a good hitter, though,” Andrew replied.

  Well, that was true. Andrew was not a good hitter. But maybe he could be if he practiced.

  “You would be a better hitter if you practiced,” I said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I could help you practice. I could toss balls to you in the backyard. We could practice every day after school. Or almost every day.”

  “Karen, that is a very nice offer,” spoke up Mommy. She was untying Andrew’s apron.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  “Are you ready to go?” asked Mommy.

  “Yup,” I said. Andrew and I were as ready as we would ever be.

  “Okay then, kids. Get your things together and climb in the car.”

  The Parade

  I was sitting in the outfield. I was making a chain of clovers. See, what you do is pick one clover. Then you slit the stem with your thumb just below the flower. And then you stick another clover through the slit. After that, you —

  “Karen!” called Kristy. “Are you paying attention?”

  “Not really,” I answered. I never pay attention when I am in the outfield. That is because the Krushers hardly ever hit the ball that far. But I knew that I should look like I was paying attention. So I stood up. Soon I began singing songs under my breath. At least that was something to do.

  Being in the outfield is gigundo boring.

  “Okay, Andrew!” I heard Kristy say. “Keep your eye on the ball.”

  I dropped the clover chain. I squinted my eyes and looked across the field. Andrew was at bat. I had to see how he would do.

  Jackie Rodowsky was pitching. Jackie is seven. He is very, very nice. And Kristy likes him. But she calls him a walking disaster. That means that he is always causing accidents. He does not mean to, though.

  Jackie pitched a low, slow ball to Andrew. It was a good pitch. Andrew tried for the ball, but he missed it by a mile. And then, as he was swinging the bat around, he let go of it. It flew through the air. Luckily, nobody got hurt.

  “Andrew!” Kristy cried. “What happened? Remember — if you don’t hit the ball, hold onto the bat. If you do hit the ball, drop the bat. Do not let it fly.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Andrew in a quivery voice. “I didn’t mean to throw the bat. It just slipped out of my hands.”

  “That’s okay,” replied Kristy. “Go ahead, you have two more tries.”

  Jackie pitched two more easy balls. Andrew missed both of them. And the bat flew out of his hands each time. Nobody, not even Kristy, was standing near Andrew anymore. A bunch of kids had run behind the backstop, where they would be protected.

  “Three strikes!” called Kristy. “And that was three outs. The game is over!”

  We ran off the field. I ran straight to Andrew. I saw tears in his eyes.

  “I made my side lose the game,” he said to me. “I am a horrible player.”

  “No, you’re not. You are a very good catcher. You just need to practice hitting — and holding onto the bat,” I told him.

  “Karen!” I heard someone call. I turned around. It was Hannie Papadakis. Hannie is a Krusher, too. And she is one of my best friends. ( I have two best friends. The other is Nancy Dawes. She is not a Krusher. Hannie and Nancy and I are in Ms. Colman’s second-grade class at Stoneybrook Academy. We call ourselves the Three Musketeers.)

  Some of my other friends are on the team, too. Well, one of them is actually my stepbrother. He is seven, like me. He is Kristy’s brother, and his name is David Michael. Plus, I know lots of the girl players. And I know our three cheerleaders. Let me see. Who else is on the team? Linny Papadakis (Hannie’s older brother), and Max Delaney. I am a friend of Max’s sister, Amanda.

  “Karen,” said Hannie again. “Kristy wants to talk to us.”

  The Krushers crowded around my sister.

  “Good news,” said Kristy. “We are going to march in the Memorial Day parade next month. The Bashers will march, too.” (Ooh, I thought. Marching in a parade! I just love having people look at me.) “And,” Kristy went on, “on the day before Memorial Day, we will play a big game against the Bashers. The winning team will get to carry a special banner in the parade. But whether we have the banner or not, the Krushers are going to look good. We will have our Krushers T-shirts and hats. And guess
what. Our new batting gloves will arrive soon. We can wear those in the parade, too.”

  “Yea!” shouted the Krushers. Except for Andrew. What he said was, “Karen? Will we be at the big house or the little house on Memorial Day?”

  Special Days

  “We will be at the big house on Memorial Day,” I told Andrew.

  “Is Memorial Day a very important holiday?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “But it is not special like Thanksgiving or Easter. At least not in our family. For some families it is special, though.”

  “But not for ours,” Andrew repeated. “Good. Then there won’t be any fighting.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  What Andrew meant about the fighting is that our parents are divorced. And sometimes they fight over us. But not too often.

  Daddy lives in a big house here in Stoneybrook, Connecticut. It is the house he grew up in. Mommy and Andrew and I used to live there, too. But then my parents got divorced. They were not mad at each other. They just decided that they did not love each other anymore. So Mommy moved into a little house that is also in Stoneybrook. Most of the time, Andrew and I live at the little house. But every other weekend, and for two weeks during the summer, we live at the big house. And we split up the holidays. Or else we have two of each holiday. That is when Mommy and Daddy fight sometimes. Mommy would like us to celebrate each holiday with her. And Daddy would like us to celebrate each holiday with him. But I did not think that they would fight about Memorial Day.

  Do you want to know something interesting? Mommy and Daddy each got married again. So Andrew and I have a stepfather and a stepmother now. We have two families, one at each house. Here are the people and pets who live at the little house: Mommy, Seth (my stepfather), Rocky and Midgie (Seth’s cat and dog), and Emily Junior (my rat). And, of course, Andrew and me.

  Here are the people and pets who live at the big house: Daddy, Elizabeth (my stepmother), Elizabeth’s four kids — Charlie, Sam, Kristy, and David Michael — Nannie (Elizabeth’s mother), Emily Michelle, Boo-Boo, Shannon, Goldfishie, Crystal Light the Second, and sometimes Andrew and me. I have already told you about Kristy and David Michael. Charlie and Sam are their older brothers. They go to high school. Emily Michelle is my adopted sister. She is two and a half. Daddy and Elizabeth adopted her from a country called Vietnam. (I named my rat after Emily.) Nannie came to live at the big house not long after Emily arrived. She takes care of Emily while Daddy and Elizabeth are at work. Boo-Boo is Daddy’s old, fat cat. Shannon is David Michael’s puppy. Goldfishie is Andrew’s goldfish. Crystal Light the Second is my goldfish.

  I call my brother Andrew Two-Two. I call myself Karen Two-Two. (I got the name from a book Ms. Colman read to our class. It was called Jacob Two-Two Meets the Hooded Fang.) I think “Two-Two” is a good name for Andrew and me. It is a good name because we have two of so many things. We have two houses, two families, two mommies, two daddies, two cats, and two dogs. And I have two stuffed cats. Moosie stays at the big house, Goosie stays at the little house. Andrew and I have clothes and toys at each house. Plus, Nancy Dawes lives next door to the little house, and Hannie Papadakis lives across the street and one house down from the big house.

  Of course, Andrew and I do not have two of everything. For instance, there is only one Kristy. I miss her a lot when I am at Mommy’s. And there is only one Emily Junior. I miss her when I am at Daddy’s. (Also, Mommy has to take care of Emily Junior when I am at the big house. She is not wild about this, but what can you do?)

  * * *

  Our Krushers practice was over. Kristy had finished talking to us. Parents and baby-sitters were starting to arrive. It was time for Andrew and me to go back to the little house.

  The Junk Bucket

  “Karen?” said Andrew. “How many days until the big game?”

  “The big game?” I repeated. “You mean against the Bashers?”

  Andrew nodded.

  Well, for heaven’s sake, I did not know. “Andrew, the game isn’t until next month,” I said. “I would have to count the days on a calendar.”

  It was a Saturday. Andrew and I were at the big house for the weekend. We had been practicing Andrew’s hitting in the backyard. It was a good thing the yard is big. Andrew let his bat fly every time he swung at the ball. Once, the bat crashed into a tree.

  “Are you already nervous about the game?” I asked my brother.

  “Yup,” he answered.

  “Then think about the parade the next day. It will be almost as much fun as the softball game. Think of our batting gloves. We will have them by then.”

  “Yeah …” said Andrew slowly.

  “Karen! Andrew! Time for lunch!” Elizabeth was calling to us from the back door of the big house.

  “Coming!” we shouted to her.

  Andrew and I ran inside. Our brothers and sisters were gathering in the kitchen. Daddy and Elizabeth were taking things out of the refrigerator. Nannie was already sitting at the table. She was talking to Emily in her high chair.

  Soon everyone was seated. We were eating sandwiches and salad. (Charlie was eating the most. I have never seen anyone eat as much as he does.)

  “Guess what,” said Sam. “I forgot to tell you this yesterday. Our band is going to march in the Memorial Day parade.” (Sam plays the clarinet in the high-school band. He is pretty good.)

  “Cool,” I said. “Will you wear uniforms?”

  “Yup.” Sam nodded.

  “I guess we’re all going to be in the parade then,” said Kristy.

  “Really? Our whole family?” asked Andrew.

  “Well, all the kids,” replied Kristy. “You and Karen and David Michael and I will march with the Krushers, and now Sam will be marching with the band.”

  “What about Charlie and Emily?” I asked.

  “Oh. I guess you didn’t hear,” said Charlie. “Last week the coach decided that our cheerleaders should be in the parade. Usually the team members get to march and the cheerleaders — who cheer for all our teams — are forgotten. So the coach asked me to drive them in my car this year.”

  Charlie looked proud, but I said, “In the Junk Bucket?”

  “Yes, in the Junk Bucket.”

  “We’re going to help Charlie decorate it,” spoke up Kristy. “And Emily is going to ride with Charlie. He’s going to say she’s the cheerleaders’ mascot. We’ll have to make a really good costume for Emily.”

  “Fun,” I said. “We all get to march and be in costume. Oh, wait. Charlie, will you be dressed as anything special?”

  “A football player,” he said.

  “Perfect!” I exclaimed.

  “Boy,” added Daddy. “I better make sure I’ve got tape in my camcorder. I want to film the entire parade. I want to get a shot of each of you.”

  “In our uniforms,” I said.

  “Yes, in your uniforms,” agreed Daddy.

  Goody. I could not wait for the batting gloves to arrive. I wanted to see myself in my entire Krushers uniform!

  The Bicycle Brigade

  On Sunday, I went over to Amanda Delaney’s house. Amanda lives across the street from the big house. There is one house between hers and Hannie’s. Amanda and Hannie are gigundo enemies. But Amanda and I are friends. We are friends even though Amanda is older than I am, and even though she goes to Stoneybrook Day School instead of Stoneybrook Academy.

  Amanda has a swimming pool.

  I usually only get to see Amanda on big-house weekends.

  When I rang the Delaneys’ bell, Amanda’s mother answered the door.

  “Hi, Karen,” she said.

  “Hi!” I answered. “Is Amanda here?”

  “She’s in the backyard. You can scoot on through, if you want.”

  Mrs. Delaney meant that I could scoot on through the house and go out the back door. Which I did.

  I saw Amanda sitting on the lawn. Her bicycle was next to her. It was propped up on its kickstand. Around Amanda were streamers, crepe paper, S
cotch tape, scissors, and some other stuff.

  “Hi, Amanda! What are you doing?” I called.

  Amanda got up quickly. She stood in front of her bicycle. She looked as if she were trying to hide it. “Who let you out here?” she demanded.

  Sheesh. Sometimes I can see why Hannie doesn’t like Amanda. “Your mom did,” I replied. “What are you doing?”

  Amanda did not answer my question. Instead she muttered something like, “I told my mother I wanted to work alone. I never have any privacy.”

  Since I did not leave, Amanda said, “Oh, all right. You might as well know. I’m going to ride in the Bicycle Brigade in the Memorial Day parade. And I bet I will win first prize.”

  “What’s first prize?” I asked. “And what’s the Bicycle Brigade?”

  “Oh,” said Amanda. “This year, any kid who wants to can decorate his bicycle and ride at the end of the parade. A judge will look at the bicycles and choose three winners. First prize is … one hundred dollars.”

  “Wow,” I said softly.

  “So that’s why I don’t want you out here,” Amanda told me. “I don’t want you to see what I’m doing.”

  Amanda meant, “I don’t want you to steal my ideas.” So I said to her proudly, “You don’t have to worry about me, Amanda. I will be marching with the Krushers. And we should have our batting gloves by then, so our uniforms will be great: T-shirts, hats, and gloves. And some kids will carry bats and mitts. I would rather march with my team than be stuck with my bike at the end of the parade.” I smiled sweetly at Amanda.

  “Yeah? Well, I would like to win a hundred dollars,” said Amanda. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course. But the Krushers need me.”

  Amanda just went on working. She tied plastic streamers to the end of her handlebars. She wove crepe paper through the spokes of her wheels.

  Finally I asked, “What are second prize and third prize?”

  Amanda grinned. “Second prize is fifty dollars. Third prize is a free giant ice-cream sundae at Sullivan’s Sweets.”

  “Wow,” I couldn’t help saying. Those prizes sounded pretty great. I would like any one of them. But I could not ride in the Bicycle Brigade.