The Super Secret. Melissa Perry Moraja

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       CHAPTER 2

      Baseball Gone Salty

      It all began on a hot August day in the small town of Boring Brook.

      Jake, Madison, and I rode our bikes to Gator Elementary with our baseball equipment slung over our shoulders. Gator Elementary was the school we attended nine and a half months out of the year.

      When we arrived, the playground area was deserted, except for this enormous bird’s nest, sitting high on one of those huge, steel power transmission towers. We had hoped some of our friends would be there, or at least a few other kids, so we could form teams. But no one was.

      As I was unzipping my baseball bag, I noticed Principal Dimples, our school’s principal, standing just inside the front entrance of our school, looking at a green piece of paper that was taped to the door. Within seconds, she ripped the paper off. Then she turned in our direction, crossed her arms, clenched her lips together, and stared at us. She made me nervous. I was glad when she turned around and disappeared into the school.

      “Are you ready?” shouted Jake from home plate.

      Like always, Jake hit first. It was like some kind of unwritten older-brother rule.

      I hurried to the pitchers mound, wound up, and pitched Jake a fastball. He hit every pitch I threw. I wasn’t the best pitcher. Most of my pitches were either way too high or outside the batter’s box or too close to the batter. But he still was able to hit every single one of them into the outfield.

      After Jake hit, it was Madison’s turn. I always let Madison go before me. And Jake always pitched to her. We agreed to take turns, rotating each position to be fair. Although it really wasn’t that fair, because Jake only wanted me to pitch to him, which meant Madison always pitched to me. Her curveballs have whacked me in the head, elbow, and knee. And yes, they all hurt!

      Madison hit the first three pitches Jake pitched, missed the fourth, and walloped the last pitch over Jake’s and my head.

      Then it was my turn.

      I bolted in, grabbed my super-slugger bat, and hustled to home plate. I swung the bat a few times, waiting for Madison to get settled in on the pitcher’s mound.

      “Are you ready?” I yelled, grinding my left foot into the ground.

      “You bet!” Madison shouted back, winding up.

      I angled my bat just perfectly above my left shoulder. My eyes connected with Madison’s. She lifted up her left knee, gripped the baseball in her right hand, and pitched a knuckleball.

      I swung and missed.

      “Ugh!” I said, disappointed.

      Madison and Jake started laughing.

      I sighed and said, “Not funny.”

      I got back into batting position and missed the next three pitches—a curveball, a fastball, and another knuckleball.

      “One left!” shouted Madison, smirking. This was it.

      This was my last pitch.

      I took a deep breath and clenched my bat tightly, scanning every angle of Madison’s pitching stance. I was ready for a changeup.

      She wound up and released the ball. It was fast!

       Whack!

      Jake, Madison, and I froze as we watched the baseball soar higher and higher. It went farther than any ball Jake had ever hit.

      I smiled proudly, imagining all of my friends telling me that I was just as great as Jake.

      But my smile changed quickly, when I noticed the ball heading right for the enormous bird’s nest. There wasn’t anything any of us could do. It crashed right into it, knocking the nest to the ground.

      No one could have predicted what happened next. This mammoth-sized bird shot out of the nest, zooming toward us like we were its next prey. Next thing I knew, Jake was shouting, “Run! You hit a raptor’s nest!”

      “Aaaggghh!” Jake, Madison, and I screamed, running for cover.

      Jake dove behind some bushes near the school.

      Madison took cover behind a tree near the basketball court.