"That's the last of it," Daddy stated as he and Uncle Mackie carted the last basketload of food over to the picnic benches. Dad reserved four benches and a barbeque pit in the park just for the WENN Fourth of July Staff Jubilee (as Dad calls it). "We should have enough now."
Uncle Mackie nodded. No, he's not my real uncle, either, but he's lots of fun. He's known as "The Man of 1,000 Voices" to the Pittsburgh radio and TV community. He can make just about any kind of voice or accent you can imagine. He's really funny, too. He knows the best jokes! He taught me and David a few good ones (but we're not supposed to tell them to Mom). "Scotty, we have enough to feed the US Army twice and probably invite the Canadian and the Mexican Army while we're at it!"
"You wouldn't believe how much kids eat," Dad said with a smile.
I love Dad. He's the best. He's handsome and funny and has the best ideas in the whole world. He knows how to play poker and tell jokes and has been to almost every country you can imagine. He tells wonderful stories. You never know if they're true or not, but they're still fun to hear. He taught me how to play baseball and how to catch a football and the difference between an uppercut and a right hook.
Note I said "catch" a football, not run with it. Dad has a very bad leg. He limps a lot. He walks with a cane when Mom reminds him. He got it during World War II at the station. Mom and Dad won't say much more than that. I tell people that he got it in the line of duty. It's a lie, of course. Dad never left America.
Uncle Jeffrey and Uncle Victor talked old times. Uncle Jeffrey is handsome, too. He's Lia's dad. He's tall and thin and has thick, curly brown hair. He and Aunt Hilary are always fighting, but they never really mean anything by it. He's not as strong as my dad, and he doesn't know as many jokes, but he tells stories that are almost as good.
Aunt Hilary nodded at Lia and me. "Why don't all of you set the tables while Scott and Mackie get the barbeque going?" She handed us napkins, plates, and silverware.
"I want to go play baseball," I grumbled, but I did as I was told. Lia and I spread out the tablecloths. Tom and Sarah brought big rocks from the playground to keep the cloths from flying around. Juliet, Lia's little sister, brought wildflowers for the centerpieces and put them in glasses. David and Amanda set out the plates and silverware. Pete dug the ketchup and mustard out of the picnic baskets. Us three older kids sat back and admired our work while the younger guys ran out to the playground, with Aunt Eugenia and Uncle Foley following them.
I grabbed my ball, bat, and mitt from the car before my folks could protest. "Bye, Mom! Dave and Lia and I are going to play ball!"
Dave looked at me kind of funny. "We are?"
Pete, who would play baseball on a dime, cheered. "All right! Let's go!" He grabbed his own bat and mitt.
Lia frowned. "Aggie, I'm not playing ball in this outfit! I just made it. The last thing I want to do is get it dirty or full of holes!"
Mom nodded. "Be back in an hour for dinner, guys!"
I groaned. "You guys are just no fun, do you know that?" I walked away from them. I didn't realize until I was half-way to the field that Dave caught up with me. With his long legs, that's not a hard thing to do.
"I'll play baseball with you, Aggie," David said apologetically. "It's not that I dislike the game. You just took me by surprise."
I grinned and flung my arms around Dave and Pete's shoulders. "Let's go find the rest of the gang."
The rest of the gang were already at the field. I told them that I'd meet them there with Dave and Lia as soon as we could sneak away. This was going to be a great game. I could tell already. Casey "Fast Fingers" Malone was warming up his famous curve ball. Twins Susie and Sammy Devin were in the outfield, practically identical except for Susie's shiny blonde ponytail. Miguel was on second base, looking ready to do something other than pile peaches. Steve Hamilton had on his daddy's catcher's mitt and equipment from when Mr. Hamilton played in the Black baseball leagues. Casey's huge older sister Ann was in the way back. She can grab a ball from about eight miles away. She makes ME look tiny, that's how big she is! Pete took his place as the shortstop. Dave went to his favorite position, third base, and I claimed my usual spot on first.
Lia ran onto the field just as we were warming up. I glared at my best friend. "I thought you didn't want to come."
Lia shook her head vehemently. "Come on, guys, you know how much clothes designing means to me. I want to be the next Edith Head, and I can't do that if I ruin my creations." She shrugged. "How about I keep score and be your cheerleader?" She looked over her shoulder. "I think you're going to need all the cheering you can get."
It was my turn to get worried. "Why? What's going on?" I looked over at Casey. He arranges most of our games. "Casey, who are we playing?"
Casey fidgeted and gulped and put on a show. "Um, well, I ran into them today, Aggie, or, rather, they ran into me..."
Casey was spared my fist and my temper by the arrival of our rival team. Howie Meisner trotted up to the field. With him were the eight biggest, meanest, ugliest guys in school, including Arnold and Calvin. They all wore their Little League uniforms, probably to annoy us. Susie, Ann, and I couldn't get into the Little Leagues because we're girls. Miguel and Steve couldn't get in because their skin is different. Dave and Sammy just didn't make the cut. Only Casey and Pete play on the real leagues, but they say that they like playing with us better.
I threw down my mitt and aimed a right hook at Howie. Dave and Pete had to hold me back for the second time that day. The hoods all made teasing "Ooooohhhh!" noises. "Temper, temper, Sherwood," Howie taunted. "What's wrong with a little friendly game of baseball?"
"What do you want?" I snapped. "You always want something when you play anything with us."
"Yeah!" added Pete. "The last time we played anything with you, it was basketball. You made us carry all your books into school for a month!"
Howie laughed. I swear, even his laugh is calculated to get my goat. It took a lot of restraint on my part to keep from decking him. "Howie, if we have to do anything stupid, I swear I will knock you so hard you'll land in the Mongehela!"
"Pipe down, Sherwood," Howie sneered. "If you try anything funny, my boys here will go over to that little shebang your folks are having and set off a few fireworks in the middle of your barbecue pit."
That did calm me down a bit. I didn't want our parents and younger siblings to get hurt. "All right, we'll play, but on two conditions. One, we're all going to play fair. No cheating, and that includes you, Howie."
Howie tried to look innocent. "What, me, cheat? Never!"
I rolled my eyes and went on. "Second, that you and your rejects stay as far away from our families as you possibly can."
"Only if we lose," Howie snarled. "If we win, we want all of your mama's pies, Sherwood. Everyone knows that Betty Sherwood makes the best pies in the neighborhood."
"Fine," I agreed. "And if we win, you jerks clear out of here and keep away from all of us."
"Done." Howie and I shook hands, making sure to put plenty of pressure on them, and the game began.
Lia was the referee and tossed the coin that opened the game. Howie smirked when he realized that he won the toss. I made a face, but David shook his head. "Don't worry, Aggie," he assured me. "We're all decent players. I'm sure we'll have no problems defeating Howie and his friends."
"That isn't what's got me mad," I grumbled. "Howie wouldn't know the meaning of the words 'fair fight' if he looked it up in the dictionary."
"Aw, sis, he promised!" Pete pointed out.
"Don't be naïve, Peter!" Ann squwaked from the outfield. "If Meisner tries anything cute, me 'n Aggie will just have to teach him a lesson, that's all." Ann faked a nice uppercut to demonstrate.
"Yeah, yeah, Malone, I know what you can do," Howie complained as he stepped up to the plate. "My rear end is still sore from the last time you and Sherwood taught me a lesson."
"Are we going to play ball or flap our gums all day?" Steve grumbled from behind his catcher's mask.
"PLAY BALL!!" roared the Devin twins from the outfield.
In the end, it wasn't a bad game at first. Howie and his big, slow goons never had a chance. Yes, they were more powerful than us, and they did get a few homers that we couldn't begin to catch, but we're all faster. Ann, Casey, Mig, and I are no slouches in the batting department, either. The Devins are better runners and Pete and Steve are good catchers. Dave isn't much of an athlete, but I gave him an A for effort that day. By the time we were on the bottom of the sixth inning, the score was 2-2.
It was when Pete hit a line drive to left field that Howie went back on his word. I clearly saw him push my brother as he ran to second base. Pete fell over the plate and Calvin called him out. Lia, who had been sitting on the old wood bleachers for most of the game, leaped out of her seat, ignoring the dust settling on her nice, new outfit.
"Foul!" she called. "Howie, what did you do that for?"
"Do what for?" Howie asked. "I got him out. That's in the rules."
I skidded over to the group. "Howie, we all saw you! You hit him!"
Everyone else had joined us by now. "Whaddya think we are, blind?" snapped Steve.
"I did what I hadda do to win," Howie said simply.
I started rolling up my sleeves. "How would you like a knuckle sandwich?" Calvin, Arnold, and the rest of Howie's team arrived from the field. "Oh, so you're all gonna threaten us now? What happened to a little friendly game of ball?"
"Good question," added a much deeper and more mature voice. I was thrilled when Daddy hobbled quickly onto the scene, followed by Aunt Maple, Uncle Mackie, and a lady I didn't know. "I saw what happened myself, and deliberately knocking your opponent down is not in the rules of baseball. Even I know that."
Howie laughed. "Oh, so the little girl can't handle things on her own. She has to call her cripple daddy when things go wrong."
"NO ONE CALLS MY DADDY A CRIPPLE!!!!" I shrieked. Howie just makes me so mad! "Daddy is not a cripple! He just has a bad leg!" I leaned back for a right hook.
"What's a cripple?" I heard Calvin ask Arnold. I swear, those guys have the brains of two wet noodles.
Someone grabbed me away from Howie. One very big, strong arm grabbed Howie by his collar and carried him over to the older woman in the fancy sundress. "Is this yours, Judy?" Dad asked as he let Howie go.
"You can put him down, Mr. Sherwood," sighed Judy Meisner. "He's my son. Though I wish I knew where he got his manners! Certainly not from me! And not from George, either. He's been dead since Korea." She took him by the ear.
"Awww, Mama, you're embarrassing me!" Howie whined.
"I'll do more than that if you don't apologize to Mr. Sherwood's kids right this moment!"
Howie turned around, muttered something unintelligible, and ran off. Calvin and Arnold took one look at me and quickly joined him.
Mrs. Meisner sighed. "I just don't understand that boy, Mr. Sherwood. I give him everything, and yet, he's still a trial." She nodded. "Well, call me tomorrow about the new time slot for the Café New Orleans program." She took off after her son.
Uncle Mackie shook his head. "You can't let people like that get to you, Aggie. Do you know what your mother would say if you started a fight, especially on a holiday?"
"I don't care," I grumbled. "He deserved it."
Dad grinned. "Well, I see a bunch of kids who never got to finish their baseball game." He checked his watch. "Oh, would you look at the time? I think we have a little time left before we eat. How about we play a short game? Kids against grown ups. Foley, Jeff, and Victor are on their way. Us five guys and Maple will play you kids." Dad got what Mom called his "brilliant ideas" look. "And I'm sure we'll beat the pants off of you whippersnappers, too!" I noticed that Aunt Maple had changed into shorts, tennis shoes, and a bright floral blouse.
I looked at the others. Casey pumped his fists in the air. "All right!"
Miguel nodded. "Terrific! All I wanted to do was play, anyway. I don't care with who!"
"Who can resist a challenge like that?" Dave asked with a laugh.
"PLAY BALL!!!" the Devins shouted.
"I think the vote is unanimous, Dad," I admitted. I turned my gang, who had gathered around me. "So, what are all of you waiting for? Let's play ball!"
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Dave, Lia, Pete, Juliet, and I sat at the kids' table, gobbling watermelon and having a seed-spitting contest. Tommy played in the sand box near the tables, and Mary Foley kept an eye on him. Amanda and Sarah threw watermelon seeds at each other. We beat the grown-ups at the baseball game, of course, 5-3. (Dad said that he just let us win. Yeah, right.) Dad and Uncle Chris were applying Uncle Mackie's special barbecue sauce (the kind he says could make flames come out of your mouth) on a rack of ribs. Mom and Aunt Maple were filling glasses with lemonade and apple juice. Aunt Giselle fed her three-year-old son Geraud. The other kids were still at the baseball field and had said that they'd meet us on the hill behind the field later.
I just set a new Pittsburgh Central Junior High record for watermelon seed spitting when something exploded near the table. It wasn't a big explosion, like in a war movie. It was more like a firecracker cracking open. I nearly swallowed my seed, and I thought Dave was going to choke. Lia pounded him on the back.
Uncle Jeff and Aunt Hilary hurried over. "What was that?" Uncle Jeff asked, concerned.
Lia shrugged. "I don't know, Dad. Something went pop."
Juliet looked like SHE was going to explode. "Daddy, that firecracker made me drop my watermelon!"
"Don't worry, Princess," Uncle Jeff assured her, "I'll get you another one."
Aunt Hilary made a face. "Jeff, she can get it herself. Her limbs aren't broken."
Mom was going through the picnic basket. She jumped back in surprise. "Ok, which one of you took the last whole pie?" She glared at her husband. "Scott? I know you like peach, but, really!" She turned on us. "How about you kids?"
Dad shook his head. "I've been at the barbecue pit the whole time, Betty. So has Chris."
"We've been eating watermelon!" Lia protested.
"And I already had lots of pie!" added Amanda.
"Don't look at me!" Uncle Mackie protested. "I've been perfecting my special hot sauce." He looked around. "Hey, kids, have you seen the bowl of hot sauce that I was working on?"
Tommy tugged on Mom's skirt. "Mommy?"
She picked him up. "Yes, sweetheart?"
He pointed at several figures running out from behind the playground. "Found pie."
"That's not all he found," Mary Foley insisted. She handed Mom an empty bowl of hot sauce and a whole peach pie as Howie, Calvin, and Arnold barreled into the picnic. They guzzled at least four glasses of juice each. "I believe he found the culprits."
I groaned. "Don't tell me, let me guess. You guys heard Uncle Mackie boasting about his special sauce and you wanted to find out what made it so great."
Lia nodded. "You wanted Aunt Betty's pie, too. You set off the firecrackers and grabbed the pie while everyone was doing something else."
I was going to slug Howie, but it was Mom who held me back this time. "Aggie, dear, I think they've suffered enough. Look at their faces! They're as red as cherries!"
Dad shot Howie a pointed look. "Aren't you supposed to be working with your Mom at Café New Orleans?"
Howie momentarily looked up from his drink. "I got time off for good behavior." He nodded at his boys. "Well, we'd better be shovin' off if we wanna catch the fireworks later," he said as they ambled off into the sunset, probably to find a bathroom, as they drank nearly a whole container of apple juice.
Everything went fine after that. Steve, Mig, the Malones, and the Devins joined us later on the hill. We discussed the Pittsburgh Pirates and books and movies and summer vacation as dusk fell and the bright sun was replaced by twinkling stars. Tommy plopped in my lap and Sarah claimed Pete's. Amanda and Juliet played with jacks. Dave read "The Man in the Iron Mask". Mary cuddled with her steady boyfriend. Lia re-tied her scarf.
Tommy was the first one to see a firework go off. They started small, with just one burst of bright whiteness, but eventually exploded into amazing sparks of red, blue, green, gold, and white. We ooohhhed and ahhhed at all the appropriate times. It was the same display as always, but there was something about it that just seemed special. Maybe it was because we were all here and all together. There was no war to worry about losing our daddies and uncles to. WENN was doing as well as it ever did, even with its new format.
We all split up after the fireworks. Steve and Mig walked home together. The Malones and the Devins went home with their parents. Lia joined her folks, promising that she'd call me tomorrow. Uncle Mackie went back to the station to help Uncle Lester complete the day's programming. It took both Dad's station wagon and Uncle Victor's Chevy to get all of us Sherwoods and Comstocks home. By the time we got there, Tommy was asleep, and Sarah was on her way.
Mom, Dad, and Aunt Maple helped me carry the little kids upstairs. Dave set up his sleeping bag in Pete and Tommy's room. He was reading "The Man in the Iron Mask" again when I looked in on Tommy. Aunt Maple undressed Sarah, and I got her into bed. Aunt Maple and Uncle Victor were going to sleep on the floor in the living room.
I couldn't sleep, for some reason. I guess it was still too hot. I got out of bed and climbed on the roof, which I often did in the summer when I couldn't sleep. It was nice and cool up there, much more so than the rest of the house. No one knows I go up here. It's practically the only place in or around the house I can go for privacy.
I wasn't alone tonight, though. Dave also sat on the roof, still reading. I smiled. "Hi, Dave."
Dave nearly jumped. "Oh, hello, Aggie. I didn't expect you to be awake."
"Mom says I'm a late sleeper. I probably got it from her. She used to stay at the station until four or five, writing scripts." I sighed. "I really miss the station. It was so much fun. We used to go down there on the Fourth of July and read funny little skits that Mom wrote for us on American history or about how important democracy is."
Dave put down his book. "I miss you, Aggie."
That startled me. "What?"
Dave blushed. I could tell, even in the dark. "I do have friends in Washington, but none of them are like you. In fact, I don't think there's anyone quite like you anywhere."
"Thanks, I think."
Dave and I just sat there for a while, looking at the stars. I thought I felt Dave's hand on mine for a moment, but he quickly pulled it back. "Aggie?"
"Uh-huh?"
"What are you going to be when you grow up?"
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. We've never discussed it."
I smiled. "I'm going to be the first woman football player. Or maybe an explorer, like Daddy used to be. I want to travel the world, to see new places. I want to see all the places that I've only seen in 'Around the World in 80 Days'. I want to live."
"Do you ever want to get married?"
"Me? Nahh. A husband would just way me down and tell me how to act. I don't want anyone to tell me how to act, ever!" David turned his gaze to the bright crescent moon. "What about you? What's your dreams, David Comstock?"
"I want to live in one place," David said quietly. "Mom and Dad have moved me around all my life. I never want to move again. I want to have a job where I won't have to move. Maybe I'll take Dad's job in Washington."
I made a face. "Won't that be boring?"
"Not doing what Dad does," David protested. "I like creating programming and making up stories."
We both yawned at the same time. I laughed, then he did. "I think it's time we went to bed, Aggie," David insisted. We got off the roof together, with one last look at the stars before we headed to bed.
THE END
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