Rooting for Rafael Rosales Page 15

  “So what happens now?” asked Grace.

  “They say I can serve out my notice at home,” said Dad. “But they locked me out of all the computers and didn’t give me anything to do, so I guess I’ll spend the time updating my résumé and signing up for LinkedIn.”

  “Watch out,” said Grace. “That might be a gateway to Facebook.”

  “Ha. I sure hope not.”

  Maya knew she should be worried, but it was hard when she was eating her favorite restaurant meal—the cranberry curry from My Thai—on a day her father had stood up for her.

  “Plus we have a baseball game,” she reminded him.

  “Right,” said Dad. “I can’t wait.”

  ***

  Maya listened to the Kernels night game with headphones. Rafael was pulled in the seventh inning, after getting zero hits in four at bats. Now the game was tied in the thirteenth inning. For some reason, Maya wanted to see it through before she went to bed.

  A new window popped up.

  Bijou has invited you to chat.

  Maya: Hi. You’re up late.

  Bijou: I’m on the office computer listening to the game. Rafael is still slumping. :-(

  Maya: I know. I hope he turns it around soon.

  Bijou: He’s always been like that. Up and down.

  Maya: Hey! I’ll see him again in person in a few days. Our family is going to a Kernels game. They’re playing the Rattlers so I’ll see Juan too.

  Bijou: Really?

  Maya: Yep. He’s not pitching though. I don’t think.

  Because she was thinking about Juan, Maya opened the photo and looked at it yet again. She was pretty sure that the boy next to Rafael was Juan, and that the bigger boy was his older brother. But she didn’t have any proof and wanted to know if she was right. Would Bijou get mad at her if she asked? She didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

  But that was part of why she wanted to ask. She didn’t want her friend lying to her.

  Maya: Bijou, can I be honest?

  Bijou: Claro. That means, of course.

  Maya: I don’t think that pitcher for the Rattlers is Juan. I think he is Juan’s brother.

  For a long time she saw: “Bijou is typing.” If it was taking her so long to answer, Maya thought, it must be true. At last the message appeared.

  Bijou: You’re correct. He is Hugo Santos Garcia. Juan’s older brother.

  Maya felt a flood of relief that Bijou trusted her, along with icy fear—real fear—that she now knew a secret.

  Maya: Thanks for telling me, B.

  Bijou: Have you told anyone? It would ruin many lives, including mine, if you did. My father might get fired. We would get thrown out on the street.

  Maya: No, I haven’t told a soul.

  Bijou: Promise you won’t! Especially your sister. She could put in her blog.

  Maya started typing that she wouldn’t tell anybody, but stopped. Could she promise that? What if she blurted it out? What did it mean to keep a secret like this? She took a deep breath. She wished she could go back in time and never ask, to have her suspicions but no proof.

  Bijou: Are you still there?

  Maya: I need to think. I’ll write soon, OK? & I won’t do anything until I talk to you again.

  She closed the window, but an email appeared before she could sign out.

  Maya,

  Sorry I was so bossy. I am scared of what might happen. But I am your friend no matter what you do. I hope you know that.

  Bijou

  One day, Carlos drove Rafael to the suburb of Ramon Santana where the Brewers had their facilities. Rafael had a good tryout. It was his sixth in as many days.

  “He’s a mature player,” said the Brewers scout. “Are you sure he’s only fourteen?”

  “Thirteen for another month,” said Carlos. “I’ve seen his papers. He’s on the level.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Since he was eleven.”

  They had this conversation as if Rafael wasn’t standing right there.

  “He doesn’t look older than fourteen,” the scout agreed. “I think with his intelligence and ability, he’ll be a good prospect. Maybe not a million-dollar prospect but a good prospect. Do you want to retain agency?”

  Rafael knew that meant Carlos might sell his share of Rafael’s future outright.

  “It depends on what he wants,” Carlos said. “I only want to be sure of his future. After three years, he’s like a sobrino.” Rafael wondered if that was true. Did Carlos think of him as a nephew, or was it typical buscone talk, meant to drive a harder bargain?

  The two men lowered their voices, and Rafael wandered off to see other boys taking at bats for the scouts. The academy in Ramon Santana was the nicest he’d seen yet. The grass was lusher, the equipment newer. He hoped Carlos would work out a deal.

  “Rafael! Vamos!” Carlos called.

  He hurried over.

  “What happened?”

  “They like you a lot,” said Carlos, walking across the gravel parking lot toward the truck.

  Once they were on the way home, he said more.

  “This might be the best offer you get, but we still have the trip to Boca Chica. Do you want to accept now or see the other academies?”

  Rafael fought the urge to accept now. What if the men changed their mind? What if a bunch of new boys showed up and took all the open spots?

  “I should talk to Papa first,” he said.

  “Smart boy,” said Carlos. “By the way, that man said they accepted your friend Juan.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re really impressed,” said Carlos. “Guess I was wrong about him.”

  ***

  Rafael ran to Juan’s house as soon as they got back to the city. Juan was out on the curb.

  “Juan, we might be teammates!” Rafael said excitedly. He blurted out everything that had happened in Ramon Santana.

  Juan’s face was serious.

  “What’s wrong?” Rafael wondered if the academy had changed their mind about Juan, or if Carlos had misunderstood.

  “Rafi, I have a big secret. You’ll find out anyway so I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell anyone.”

  “What?”

  “They didn’t accept me,” said Juan. “They accepted Hugo.”

  “But Hugo’s sixteen. He should be trying out to get signed right now, not applying for the academy.”

  “He used my birth certificate.” Juan grinned, though the news was nothing to smile about. “Now he is Juan Santos Garcia.”

  “Oh.” Rafael knew such things happened. “But they’ve already seen him,” he recalled. “He tried out two years ago.” Maybe nobody would remember him, but if even one person did, he would be finished. He would be banned for a year and come back a year older with a black mark against him.

  “Hugo didn’t try out,” Juan explained. “Damian tried out, using Hugo’s name.” He shrugged. “I think they were disappointed. He was not as good as they heard. But now they hear, wait until you see his little brother.” He mimed a pitch. “Juan will be a superstar.”

  “You planned it that far back?”

  “Hugo’s agent did. It was his idea. He’s sharp, that man. He made me become a pitcher so I could show up…I mean, Hugo could show up. Ah, you know what I mean!”

  Rafael felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. He didn’t care if Hugo cheated a little. Hugo was a great player, and it wasn’t fair he was hurt two years ago. But if Damian was Hugo, and Hugo was Juan…

  “Who are you going to be? How are you going to try out?”

  “I’m not going to be anybody.” Juan held out his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t even need to because Hugo will be…” He rubbed his fingers together, miming someone with a lot of cash.

  “That’s not fair,” said Rafael. “You deserve a shot too.”

  “Rafael!” Juan put his hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “Rafi, I don’t have Hugo’s hands or your fever. Everybody knows that but you. P
apa, Hugo, me, Romero, Cádiz, even Carlos. I was only in the academy for the cover story. My birth certificate has more value right now than all of the rest of me.”

  “But we were supposed to do this together.” Rafael looked down the street. He could see the glaring red of the sun blurred by smog. What a day. He was going to an academy, and from there, he’d probably get a deal. He wasn’t just a kid fantasizing anymore. It was all laid out in front of him. But he’d always imagined Juan would be there too. This was like getting a toy he’d dreamed about and then finding out it was damaged. Not enough so it didn’t work, but a little chip or crack that spoiled the magic. “It won’t be the same,” he said.

  “It’s all good,” said Juan. If he was upset deep down inside, he didn’t show it. “You and Hugo both made it. Hermano, this is the best day of my life.”

  “Sure,” said Rafael. He tried to be as happy as Juan. His friend had even called him a brother. That would have put him on the moon a few years ago.

  Now it reminded him that he had a real brother too.

  He stood up. “I better go tell my family about the academy. See you tomorrow?”

  “No, I have to disappear for a while,” said Juan. “Going to stay with family in Yamasá. If the team sends people to check on Hugo’s story, they can’t find another Juan hanging around.”

  “Then I’ll see you when you reappear,” said Rafael.

  “Remember me when you’re rich and famous?”

  “I will,” said Rafael. “I might even come back to the barrio and give you a cap.”

  Both boys laughed hard.

  “I can’t wait,” said Juan.

  The boys clapped hands, and Rafael set off for home. After a few seconds, he started to run.

  ***

  “I got into an academy!” he shouted the moment he entered the house.

  “I know,” said Papa. He was sitting in the armchair instead of working. He had quit early today for some reason. Rafael slowly walked over, looking around.

  “Where are Mama and Iván?”

  “Mama went to the colmado, and Iván’s off in the street somewhere.”

  Rafael felt his happiness wilt. At Juan’s house, the whole family waited by the phone, talking excitedly. Here, Papa hardly seemed to care, and nobody else was even home.

  “Papa, this is a big deal.” Why did Rafael have to explain that? He must be the only boy in the Dominican Republic who did.

  “I know,” his father said evenly. “Carlos said this Brewers academy is nice.”

  “It is. But I’ll try out at a couple more. We might get other offers.”

  His father peered at him.

  “He said your friend Juan is at the same academy. I thought you’d want to go with your best friend.”

  Rafael didn’t answer. He suddenly realized he couldn’t go to the Brewers academy. He couldn’t see Hugo every day and call him Juan. That would be too hard.

  “What’s the problem?” Papa asked.

  “Papa, Juan…” Rafael’s voice fell to a whisper. His father leaned in to listen. Rafael wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but his father would keep the secret. “Juan didn’t really get in,” he burst out. He told his father about how Hugo had cheated his way in.

  “I see,” Papa said. He put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder and drew him closer. He wrapped his arms around him the way he did when Rafael was little. “I’m sorry your friend can’t go with you.” Usually he would go into a lecture, but this time he did not. Rafael could not stop his tears. Papa let him cry on his shoulder. After a few minutes, he nudged Rafael away. “But this is supposed to be a celebration,” he said. “Don’t let Mama see you like this. She’ll be back soon with the food and balloons.”

  “Really? You’re having a party for me?”

  “Yes. And Iván is gathering your friends from the neighborhood. Sorry to spoil the surprise, but it’s better than everyone walking in and finding my victorious boy bawling and covered with snot.”

  Rafael’s sob turned to a laugh. He dried his eyes on the hem of his shirt. “Papa, I thought you guys didn’t care.”

  “Of course we do,” said Papa. “We worry, is all.”

  “That I won’t make it?” Rafael asked.

  “That we’ll lose you,” his father said softly. “Now be festive.”

  The door burst open, and soon the house filled up with people.

  Maya was dying to talk to somebody, but she couldn’t tell Grace about the scandal. Bijou had asked her specifically not to. Maya didn’t think Grace would tell anyone, but who knew? Maybe she would see it as a chance to get a byline in a major magazine or a blog post with thousands of hits. One she’d written herself this time.

  She found Dad at the kitchen table the next morning, browsing through job listings. He tried to shut the laptop before Maya saw what he was doing, but she noticed the logo in the upper left.

  “You’re looking for a job at NASA?”

  “They must need data crunchers,” he said almost apologetically. “But I don’t see anything I’m qualified for, and besides, I don’t want to move. What’s up?”

  She sat down across the table from him.

  “Dad, what if I knew a big secret? Like, I found out that somebody stole some money from a company that he—or she—worked for. Not that exactly, but something like that.”

  “Your sister didn’t dip into the till at the DQ, did she?”

  “No! Grace would never do that, Dad! How can you even think it?”

  “Well, you’re the one who put the idea in my head,” he said. He glanced into his coffee cup and saw it was empty. “But you’re right. Grace would never do that.” He stood up and poured a bit more coffee from the pot, then sat down again. Maya traced the whorled pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. It was like solving an infinite maze.

  “Dad, this is for a lot of money. Millions of dollars.”

  Dad blinked, and it took him a moment to make words again. “Honey, did you witness something? You’re not in any danger, are you?”

  “No. I figured it out on my own and confirmed it with somebody who knows.”

  “But you’re not in any danger?”

  “No, the culpr…the person who did it doesn’t even know I exist.”

  “You have a much more interesting life than I thought,” he said. He sipped his coffee. “I’d say if you know about a crime and don’t tell anyone, you’re kind of an accessory.”

  “Really?” That was not what she wanted to hear. “What if the culprit is really a nice person, and the company he stole from is awful?” She wished she knew a nicer word for culprit.

  Dad gave her a narrow look. “Honey, do you think I stole money from Alceria?”

  “No,” she said. “Of course not.” She was doing a terrible job of explaining. She didn’t know if Hugo was such a nice guy, anyway, and she certainly didn’t think that the Brewers were awful. Maybe closed-minded about signing older players, but that didn’t make them evil. She stood up and fixed herself a raisin bagel with cream cheese and honey. It had been a favorite snack for Claire, and now she was hooked. Dad left his laptop closed.

  “What have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Maya?” he asked when she sat down again.

  “It’s a baseball thing.” She explained between bites of gooey bagel. She didn’t say any names, positions, or teams.

  “And you know this because…”

  “I did research,” she said. “And I had it confirmed by a friend in the DR who knows the player.”

  “You have a friend in the DR?”

  Maya nodded. “We met online.” Dad nearly jumped out of his chair.

  “You’re talking to strange men in other countries?”

  “It’s not a man. It’s a girl,” Maya said. “She’s Grace’s age.”

  “Well, sure. That’s what he says.”

  Maya couldn’t help but laugh. “We video chatted. She is who she says she is.”

  “You video chatted,” he mouthed, then shook his head. �
��Is it your favorite player? The guy you blogged about.”

  “No,” she said. “I swear it’s not him. It’s somebody else.”

  “Hmm.” Dad mulled it over. “I don’t really see this as embezzlement. More like stowing away on a ship. Using somebody else’s ticket, you know? Hardly a capital crime.”

  “But this ticket came with a three-million-dollar bonus, Dad.”

  “Oh? Wow.” He mulled it over some more. “I still don’t see it as the crime of the century, but it’s a lot of money to take under false pretenses.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Should I tell someone or not? Either way I feel terrible.”

  “Grown-ups make choices like that every day,” he said. “I wish they all put as much thought into it as you’re doing now.”

  “I’m tired of thinking about it,” she admitted.

  “Listen, if you do tell, we’re here for you, OK? We can run interference if the phone keeps ringing or whatever.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “And if you choose not to tell, I understand.”

  “Thanks.” She sniffed. “You quit your job so I wouldn’t have to ‘compromise my integrity,’ and now I have this great big lie I’m a part of.”

  “Is that the only reason you would tell?”

  Maya thought about it and nodded. “Yeah. Mostly.”

  “Then don’t,” he said. “You have the most integrity of anyone I know.”

  Maya was swept up in the excitement of baseball once they got to the ballpark: the smell of fried food wafting from the concourse and the sight of the diamond from the bleachers. The Rattlers were now out for batting practice, so she couldn’t see Rafael, but it was a relief to see his name posted on the scoreboard for the home team lineup. All the way to Cedar Rapids, she’d worried that they’d arrive at the ballpark and find out he’d been cut that morning.

  “There’s Monica.” Grace waved so the reporter could find them. The frizzy-haired woman saw them, smiled, and started up the steps.

  “Did she know we would be here?” Maya asked.

  “We traded emails,” Grace explained in a whisper.