Part 6 (2/2)

By the time we emptied the sink of pots and pans, Flip and I were exhausted. Laverne's father came out while I was drying the last pot.

”Okay, you boys can go now,” he said gruffly. ”But I don't want to see you two 'round here no more, y'hear me? I don't need your business. And I don't need your colored friends' business neither.”

”Yes, sir,” Flip said. He grabbed his suitcase and we left the diner. I looked around to say good-bye to Laverne, but she was nowhere in sight.

It was late afternoon by this time. The lunch crowd was gone and there weren't many cars on the street outside the diner.

”How are we gonna get to Pittsburgh?” I asked Flip.

”Only way we can,” he said. Flip walked over to the side of the road and stuck out his thumb.

My mother once told me that I should never hitchhike. She said that getting into a car with a stranger is really dangerous. You don't know what kind of lunatic might pick you up. But Flip said that back in the old days, people hitchhiked all the time. It was safer back then. Not as many people owned cars. There was no other way for some people to get around. And maybe there weren't as many lunatics running around back in the 1940s.

We walked down the road in the same direction the Homestead Grays' bus had been going. Every so often we'd turn around if we heard a car coming. Then we'd stick out our thumbs. Flip told me to look sad and pathetic so people would feel sorry for us and stop to pick us up. It wasn't hard to do. We were sad and pathetic.

But n.o.body even slowed down for us. Ten or twenty cars must have pa.s.sed by, and all they did was leave us in a cloud of dust. It was depressing. I told Flip we should just forget about this whole silly idea of clocking Satchel Paige. I had a fresh pack of baseball cards in my pocket. We could go back home anytime we wanted.

”Let's just wait for a few more cars,” Flip said.

And that's when I saw it.

”Look! A bus!” I shouted.

In the distance, I could see a gray bus coming our way. Maybe it was going to Pittsburgh. We wouldn't even have to hitchhike. We had the money Laverne had given us. We could use it to pay the bus fare.

The bus got closer and we waved our hands in the air to let the driver know we wanted to get on.

”He's not slowin' down,” Flip said.

Flip was right. The bus was going about 50 miles an hour, and it was almost on top of us. I could see some lettering on the side. It read: KANSAS CITY MONARCHS.

”Wait!” I screamed as the bus blew past us. ”Stop!”

No use. The bus kept right on going.

”Satchel Paige plays for the Monarchs!” I shouted to Flip. ”He's on that bus!”

The bus was gone. Flip put his suitcase on the ground at the side of the road and sat down on it. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead.

”Well, we tried,” he said wearily. ”We gave it our best shot. Let's go home, Stosh.”

I sat down next to him. We were both depressed. I pulled out my pack of new baseball cards and ripped off the wrapper. I took out one of the cards and put the rest back in my pocket. Flip grabbed my hand.

”Close your eyes,” I said.

We closed our eyes and I concentrated. I imagined us in the twenty-first century again. Back in Louisville. Home. It wasn't long until I started to feel the slightest tingle in my fingertips.

As we sat there, I heard a car engine in the distance. It got louder, so I knew it was getting closer. I ignored it. Flip and I had resigned ourselves to the fact that we weren't going to make it to Pittsburgh. We just wanted to get out of there.

The tingling sensation had moved up my arm when the car skidded to a halt right in front of us. I heard the door open, and then shut. Somebody got out of the car. There were footsteps on the gravel.

I opened my eyes. There was a tall black man sitting on the front b.u.mper of the car. He was lighting a cigarette.

”Who are you?” I asked.

”Name's Leroy,” the man said. ”But most folks call me Satch. You fellas need a lift?”

I dropped the card.

This is what I saw when I opened my eyes.

9.

Satch ”YOU BOYS LOOK SADDER THAN A POLECAT STUCK UP a tree.”

It was him! The real Satchel Paige! He was right in front of us! In the fles.h.!.+ I could have reached out and touched him.

We didn't have to give this guy a quiz to make him prove he was really Satchel Paige. He looked just like he did in photos. He had these droopy eyelids and smooth dark skin. He had a look like a ba.s.set hound.

It works, I reminded myself. Every time I travel through time, I land in the year on the card. I may not land right next to the person I'm trying to meet, but one way or another, I'm always able to find my way to the guy. How could I have ever doubted myself?

I looked over at Flip. He was just staring at Satchel Paige with his mouth open.

”We're not sad,” I said. ”We're just so surprised to see you, Mr. Paige. Surprised and happy.”

He wasn't wearing a baseball uniform. He was all dressed up in a snazzy suit, wide-brimmed hat, and s.h.i.+ny shoes.

He got up off the b.u.mper and came over to shake hands with us. Satchel Paige was tall, about six foot four. He looked like a big gooney bird, or a scarecrow. His string bean arms and legs seemed to go on forever. He was so skinny you wondered what held his pants up. But his feet were enormous.

He was a sight, I'll tell you that much. I tried not to stare, but I couldn't help it.

”Call me Satch,” he said.

When we shook hands, his fingers wrapped around mine like an octopus. I had never seen such long fingers before. Fingers like that could give a baseball a lot of backspin. Put a lot of hop on a fast-ball. Put a lot of break on a curve.

”Joe Stoshack,” I said. ”My friends call me Stosh. And this is my friend Flip Valentini.”

Flip still hadn't said anything. It was like he was in a daze. He kept shaking until Satch pulled his hand away.

”Does your friend talk?” Satch asked. ”Or is he one of them deaf-mutes?”

”Nice car,” Flip croaked. ”Is that a Packard?”

The car was bright red, and s.h.i.+ny. It was rounded on all the edges, the way cars used to be a long time ago.

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