Read Dragon Sword for Free Online

was the underworld. But in China, where my parents
are from, po are souls. Spirits. And sometimes those spirits
turn into Marchers of the Night, or tapping ghosts.”
    “ Tapping ghosts?” I must have
sounded surprised — they have tapping ghosts in Barnstormer games.
How did he know? You use them for pinch-hitting. Mostly
bunts.
    “ Tapping ghosts are folk who won’t
stay buried. Something bad happened to them, and they just can’t
rest.”
    Again, just like Barnstormers. The
monsters on your team can’t stop. They have to move on to the next
town, to the next game, before they’re caught. And once more, I’m
starting to feel that way, too.
    I haven’t had a normal conversation
with anyone since Dad and I drove to California in our truck. And
with my mom already gone, even that wasn’t too normal.
    I start telling Charlie everything
about Barnstormers, how these monsters play pickup games in local
towns for food and money. I tell him everything except the part
about playing it over the Comnet. The rest just spills out of me,
like I’m talking to some new kid at school.
    “ And it’s set way back in time,
too, like the 1930s!”
    “ Way back, huh? Two whole years
ago!” Charlie’s laughing, “Never knew baseball could be so scary. I
like those Seals, though!” He jerks his thumb at my cap. “They used
to come and train in Hawaii, in a town called Hana. You ever hear
of Hana?”
    I’ve heard of Hawaii.
    “ Guy who owns ’em owns a sugar
plantation there. On the island of Maui! Lotta free baseball in the
spring. We stand around and watch. Saw DiMaggio there! Hey, he’s
supposed to be here tonight, I think.”
    The cab rolls to a stop.
    DiMaggio?
    I look up, and there are rows of
lanterns overhead, more bright lights, and people moving past my
window in heavy overcoats and hats.
    We’re at the museum.
    “ We’re here, kid. Happy holidays.
Hope your parents stay safe. Have a good party.”
    I step out.
    “ Forty cents.”
    “ Did you say Joe DiMaggio is going
to be here?”
    “ Yeah, that’s what I heard. Cabbies
hear things all the time, though.” I hand him a dollar and he
glances at it — then the glance turns into a stare.
    Right. I just goofed. The money’s
not from here. From this time. But that’s not what he
says.
    “ Po, ” he whispers. “All over
the place tonight. Watch out.” Then he winks at me and drives
off.
     
    There are a bunch of people on the
steps, waiting to get their invitations checked so they can get
inside. I reach into my pocket for the one this Dan guy sent my
mom…and it’s not there. It’s not there ! I thought I stuffed
it in my pocket.
    Now how am I going to get
in?
    I stand with everybody on the
museum steps. There’s a Santa Claus ringing a bell wishing everyone
a very merry Christmas.
    Next to Santa is a man with a heavy
gray overcoat and a hat, putting out a cigarette. DiMaggio dressed
like that, and I think he did cigarette ads, too. I saw one, just a
picture from an old paper magazine, somewhere on the
Comnet.
    I guess in those days — these days
— there were still a lot of places you could smoke in public. But
why’d he need to do the ad at all? He was already a Yankee. Didn’t
they pay him enough?
    “ Mr. DiMaggio?” Even if I don’t get
in, I want to meet him.
    The man laughs. He raises his head,
and as the hat’s shadow lifts, I can see it isn’t DiMaggio at
all.
    “ Do I look like Joltin’ Joe, kid? I
guess I’m flattered. But my name’s Caen.” He sticks out his hand.
“Herb Caen. DiMaggio probably won’t come. He hates these
dog-and-pony shows for the swells. I gotta go inside, though. See
how the beautiful people of Baghdad-by-the-Bay try to make it
through this war.”
    “ What do you mean, ‘Baghdad’?” The
fog still hadn’t lifted, and after Charlie Dang’s po talk,
I’m feeling a little strange. And maybe, out here all alone, a
little scared.
    This is still San Francisco,
right?
    Caen laughs. “The Baghdad