![]() But after today he’d be that baseball player-part of the team.Įven though Mateo had sometimes struck out during tryouts, he was sure he’d improve once he made the cut. He looked like a dark-haired Ronald McDonald, the fast-food clown. ![]() Mateo’s frizz was wild, especially if it had been a while since his sister, Ava, had given it a trim. Someone besides that short kid with the crazy hair. When the team list was posted at the end of the school day, he’d finally be someone at Franklin Middle School. ![]() The sub droned on all afternoon-stuff they’d already learned last year-while Mateo daydreamed about making the baseball team. It’s Ma-tay-o, said Mateo, feeling as red as his new nickname. Sash, of course, always making his life miserable. Tomato head, said the kid behind him with a snort. Right off the bat it went downhill, starting with his substitute teacher. Let’s just say it was a lousy day-and it had nothing to do with gray clouds or drizzly rain. Mateo was too busy to notice what the weather was like. As in No way, José." But, like they say, when a door slams in your face, a window sometimes cracks open. If he’d been told eight months ago he’d someday be called Roller Boy, Mateo García would have said: "Definitely not. Who can both skate circles around me any day. ![]() ![]() Library of Congress Control Number: 2018902986Ĭover images by Slobodan Djajic/Shutterstock ![]()
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