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for a henway.”
    â€œWhat’s a henway?”
    â€œThree or four pounds.” He laughed and slapped his knee.
    I thought about it. “No, it’s not like that.”
    â€œOr like when I say, can you lend me a hammerfor.”
    â€œWhat’s a hammerfor?”
    â€œPounding!” He laughed even harder at that one.
    â€œIt really isn’t a joke,” I told him. “Please say ‘Hi, Petunia.’ She’ll hear you and wave, and then you wave back.”
    â€œNo way am I doing it,” Ernie said. “I am not saying ‘Hi, Petunia.’”
    â€œPlease?”
    â€œHi, Petunia. Hi, Petunia. Hi, Petunia.” He repeated it several more times. He was loud even when he wasn’t trying. “Is that supposed to sound like something else? I don’t get it.”
    â€œLook.” The woman next to me pointed. A little girl was standing on the steps, three sections over. She was looking our way. She waved.
    I waved back.
    The little girl waved again.
    I saw a big
G
on the stair. I counted: ten rows back.
    Petunia!
    Ernie didn’t wave.
    â€œShe’s my biggest fan?” said Ernie. “She’s only four years old, tops.”
    â€œYeah. Thanks!” I said. I rushed through the row—“Excuse me, excuse me”—and back to the aisle.
    â€œI still don’t get it!” Ernie shouted after me.

y the time I got back to the Porcupine’s dugout, the score was 4–1,
not
in the Pines’ favor. And the Finches were still batting.
    Abby was fielding a foul ball, which wasn’t easy to do in a porcupine costume. The fans laughed and clapped for her.
    â€œSection G, ten rows back,” I told her.
    â€œGreat,” she said. She grabbed the box with the bobblehead, bolted from the dugout, and ran across the field. She forgot the inning was still going.
    The second base umpire tried to stop her, but she ran right past him. The fans cheered.
    â€œSpike is storming the field,” said Victor Snapp. “The game is in a brief delay while an umpire chases a porcupine across the field. And now I really have seen everything.”
    Spike reached the seating area steps and ran up. The second base umpire went back to his spot on the field.
    The mascot bounded up the steps and gave Petunia the bobblehead. The little girl jumped up and down and then gave Spike a big hug.
    Nate Link pitched, and the batter bounced into a double play. The inning was finally over.
    â€œThe Finches get three runs on four hits,” said Victor Snapp. “The inning also had two walks, a wild pitch, a distracted batboy, and a disruptive mascot. Figure out how to put thaton your scorecards! We go to the bottom of the eighth inning.”
    It was mostly a happy ending, except for the fact that the Porcupines were losing—and I didn’t have a bobblehead.
    â€¢ • •
    George “President” Lincoln batted first for the Porcupines. He was the second baseman. He hit a single. Tommy was next, and he hit a single, too. Myung came to the plate and grounded out. The runners were able to advance, so at least the Porcupines had two runners in scoring position.
    Mike Stammer hit a double, and the crowd went wild as both runners scored. Now the Porcupines only needed one more run to tie the game, and there was a runner at second base.
    Sammy Solaris came to the plate. The crowd stood up and clapped.
    He took a ball, then swung at the next pitch and missed, then hit a foul ball.
    I felt my stomach tie up in knots. Sammy had been on base every at-bat this game. What were the odds he could do it again?
    He swung and smacked the ball. It soared toward the fence. The crowd gasped.
    The ball hit the fence and bounced back. That was enough to score Mike Stammer. Sammy turned at first base.
    â€œGo! Go! Go!” people shouted at Sammy, but he didn’t go.
    The center fielder fielded the ball and threw to the second baseman. He had an arm