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He ain’t the type of man who likes to hurt things. Let’s just say that Mr. R. is a man who likes to fix things.”
    â€œYeah,” added Abe. “Things that ain’t broke.”
    â€œShut up, Abe.”
    It seemed pretty obvious that this Rothstein guy was the boss of Billy and Abe, and Billy was the boss of Abe, and Abe was the boss of me. We reached the third floor of the hotel, and they took me down the hall. They stopped at Room 313. Billy pulled out the key that Rothstein had given him and opened the door.
    The hotel room was empty. I mean, there was a bed in there and all, but no suitcases or anything. Nobody was staying there. It looked pretty nice. If I had to stay there for twenty-four hours with one ofthem guarding me, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
    â€œWhose room is this?” Abe asked Billy.
    â€œHeinie Groh,” Billy replied, “but he ain’t usin’ it.”
    Heinie Groh! I never should have taken that Heinie Groh baseball card , I thought to myself. Billy opened the door to a closet.
    â€œGet in,” he ordered.
    â€œI have to stay in the closet?” I asked.
    â€œWhaddaya complainin’ about?” Abe remarked, giving me a shove. “This is the best hotel in town.”
    The closet was completely empty except for a few wire hangers on a rod. I stepped inside. It was pretty small, about the size of a phone booth. I had to duck my head so I wouldn’t bump into the rod.
    â€œWe’ll come get you out after the game tomorrow,” Billy said, as he reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a Hershey bar and flipped it into the closet. “This oughta hold you till then.”
    Then he closed the closet door. I heard a lock click, and a few seconds later the hotel room door clicked shut, too.
    I put my ear to the door. Silence. They were gone.
    I was in total darkness. I felt around the door for the doorknob. Maybe I could break the lock or pick it or something. But there was no doorknob. The closet door was locked from the other side, probably with a bolt or latch. I leaned against the door and tried bumping my shoulder into it. The door wassolid. It wasn’t going anywhere. I was stuck.
    I sank down to the closet floor and sat there. Why did this always have to happen to me ? I had come to 1919 to try and do something good. All I wanted to do was warn Shoeless Joe Jackson about ruining his life. I hadn’t even found Shoeless Joe, and it didn’t look like I was going to, sitting in a locked closet.
    Why is it that every time I decide to take a trip back to “the good old days,” something goes wrong and I run into trouble?
    My nose was running, my eyes were watering, my throat felt tight, and it took me a few seconds even to realize that it wasn’t because I had the flu. It was because I was crying.
    Hungry. I was hungry, too, I realized. My stomach was rumbling. If only I had listened to my mother and brought along the lunch she had packed for me. Oh, it wouldn’t have mattered. Those guys Billy and Abe probably would have taken it away from me anyway.
    I felt around the floor of the closet until my hands found the Hershey bar. Tearing off the wrapper, I took a little nibble. If I ate a little bit every hour, I figured, maybe it would last me the whole day and night.
    Oh, forget about that. I scarfed the whole thing down in two bites. It tasted great but didn’t make me feel any better about the situation I was in.
    My eyes were starting to adjust to the dark, andI could see a narrow slit of light under the door. I couldn’t do anything about it, but that sliver of light was comforting in a way. At least it told me it wasn’t nighttime yet. There was nothing to do but think.
    I couldn’t escape. I could sit there and wait it out until those creeps came to get me again. And who knew what they were going to do with me then ? They knew I’d overheard them