بگو سیب و بمیر فصل 13

Say Cheese and Die! - Chapter 13

“Bird!” Shari cried.

Greg’s breath caught in his throat. He felt as if he were choking. “Oh!” he finally managed to cry out in a shrill, raspy voice.

Bird didn’t move.

Shari and Greg, running side by side at full speed, reached him together.

“Bird?” Shari knelt down beside him. “Bird?”

Bird opened one eye. “Gotcha,” he said quietly. The weird half smile formed on his face, and he exploded in high-pitched laughter.

It took Shari and Greg a while to react. They both stood openmouthed, gaping at their laughing friend.

Then, his heart beginning to slow to normal, Greg reached down, grabbed Bird with both hands, and pulled him roughly to his feet.

“I’ll hold him while you hit him,” Greg offered, holding Bird from behind.

“Hey, wait—” Bird protested, struggling to squirm out of Greg’s grasp.

“Good plan,” Shari said, grinning.

“Ow! Hey—let go! Come on! Let go!” Bird protested, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle free. “Come on! What’s your problem? It was a joke, guys.”

“Very funny,” Shari said, giving Bird a playful punch on the shoulder. “You’re a riot, Bird.”

Bird finally freed himself with a hard tug and danced away from both of them. “I just wanted to show you how bogus it is to get all worked up about that dumb camera.”

“But, Bird—” Greg started.

“It’s just broken, that’s all,” Bird said, brushing blades of recently cut grass off his uniform pants. “You think because it showed Michael falling down those stairs, there’s something strange with it. But that’s dumb. Real dumb.”

“I know it,” Greg replied sharply. “But how do you explain it?”

“I told you, man. It’s wrecked. Broken. That’s it.”

“Bird—get over here!” a voice called, and Bird’s fielder’s glove came flying at his head. He caught it, waved with a grin to Shari and Greg, and jogged to the outfield along with the other members of the Dolphins.

Carrying the camera tightly in one hand, Greg led the way to the bleachers. He and Shari sat down on the end of the bottom bench.

Some of the spectators had lost interest in the game already and had left. A few kids had taken a baseball off the field and were having their own game of catch behind the bleachers. Across the playground, four or five kids were getting a game of kickball started.

“Bird is such a dork,” Greg said, his eyes on the game.

“He scared me to death,” Shari exclaimed. “I really thought he was hurt.”

“What a clown,” Greg muttered.

They watched the game in silence for a while. It wasn’t terribly interesting. The Dolphins were losing 12-3 going into the third inning. None of the players were very good.

Greg laughed as a Cardinal batter slugged a ball that sailed out to the field and right over Bird’s head.

“That’s the third ball that flew over his head!” Greg cried.

“Guess he lost it in the sun!” Shari exclaimed, joining in the laughter.

They both watched Bird’s long legs storking after the ball. By the time he managed to catch up with it and heave it toward the diamond, the Cardinal had already rounded the bases and scored.

There were loud boos from the bleachers.

The next Cardinal batter stepped to the plate. A few more kids climbed down from the bleachers, having seen enough.

“It’s so hot here in the sun,” Shari said, shielding her eyes with one hand. “And I’ve got lots of homework. Want to leave?”

“I just want to see the next inning,” Greg said, watching the batter swing and miss. “Bird is coming up next inning. I want to stay and boo him.”

“What are friends for?” Shari said sarcastically.

It took a long while for the Dolphins to get the third out. The Cardinals batted around their entire order.

Greg’s T-shirt was drenched with sweat by the time Bird came up to the plate in the top of the fourth.

Despite the loud booing from Shari and Greg, Bird managed to punch the ball past the shortstop for a single.

“Lucky hit!” Greg yelled, cupping his hands into a megaphone.

Bird pretended not to hear him. He tossed away his batter’s helmet, adjusted his cap, and took a short lead off first base.

The next batter swung at the first pitch and fouled it off.

“Let’s go,” Shari urged, pulling Greg’s arm. “It’s too hot. I’m dying of thirst.”

“Let’s just see if Bird—”

Greg didn’t finish his sentence.

The batter hit the next ball hard. It made a loud thunk as it left the bat.

A dozen people—players and spectators—cried out as the ball flew across the diamond, a sharp line drive, and slammed into the side of Bird’s head with another thunk.

Greg watched in horror as the ball bounced off Bird and dribbled away onto the infield grass. Bird’s eyes went wide with disbelief, confusion.

He stood frozen in place on the base path for a long moment.

Then both of his hands shot up above his head, and he uttered a shrill cry, long and loud, like the high-pitched whinny of a horse.

His eyes rolled up in his head. He sank to his knees and uttered another cry, softer this time. Then he collapsed, sprawling onto his back, his neck at an unnatural angle, his eyes closed.

He didn’t move.