Thrown a Curve by Sara Griffiths Page B

sitting in the office, sipping coffee. He introduced himself to my father without saying anything about our Friday sessions.
    The vice-principal addressed me first. “So, Taylor, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
    How did adults want you to respond to this question? I gave it a shot. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, but she was saying mean things to me, and I guess I lost my temper.”
    “We do not tolerate physical violence at this school,” he answered. “You will be suspended for two days. I wanted to remove you permanently from the baseball team, but Mr. Sacamore has come to your defense.”
    My father spoke up. “Sir, if I may interrupt, I think that taking Taylor off the team would be a good idea. Taylor has seemeddistracted since this whole baseball thing started. Maybe the team is too much for her to handle.”
    “But, Dad—”
    Mr. Sacamore interrupted my protest. “Mr. Dresden, I’ve known Taylor for a while, and I don’t support removing her from the team. I think baseball, most of the time, keeps her away from negative actions. I believe that some of the girls provoke Taylor. Do you agree, Taylor?”
    “I don’t know,” I mumbled.
    “Why don’t you tell us what Miss Downbaer said to you that made you so upset,” Mr. Sacamore said.
    My father looked at his watch—twice.
    “She was talking about my mother,” I answered.
    As he rose, my father looked impatient. “Gentlemen, I’m late for work, unfortunately. I’ll take Taylor home to serve her suspension. Are we finished here?”
    “If you agree to the terms, Mr. Dresden, they will stand,” said the vice principal.
    “She made her bed, and now she can lie in it,” my dad said.
    He didn’t even try to defend me.
    He dropped me back home, and as he drove away, all he said was, “And don’t spend all day watching TV.”
    I went up to my room, flopped on my bed, and fell asleep. I slept for most of the day. Suspension was great for catching up on sleep. I felt good that Sacamore had stuck up for me today. But I wished it had been my father.

C HAPTER 14

    W ednesday morning, I was back at school. For once, I was kind of happy to be there. I hadn’t thrown a ball in a week, and I was looking forward to the game after school. I wasn’t scheduled to pitch, but I never knew when Coach might put me in to close the game or pitch in relief.
    I passed Stacy on the way to my locker, but she didn’t look at me. She still had a bruise on her left cheek. I felt kind of guilty about it, but kind of good, too—maybe she’d stop bothering me now.
    I entered Sacamore’s office a few seconds after the bell rang for first period. I wondered what he’d say about my dad, and waited to thank him for helping keep me on the team. It felt good having something to do after school every day.
    “Good morning, Taylor,” Sacamore said.
    “Hi.” I sat down in my usual chair.
    “Sorry I pulled you out of class, but I thought we should chat.”
    “It’s okay.”
    “How were your couple days off?”
    “Uh, they were pretty quiet. I just stayed in my room.”
    “I want to talk about the meeting we had with your father onMonday morning. Would that be okay with you?”
    I shrugged. “I guess so.”
    “So, tell me about that morning. What were you feeling?”
    “I was pretty numb the whole couple of days. It was like I spaced out after the thing with Stacy. I don’t remember thinking anything, except . . .” I shifted in my seat.
    “Go ahead. What?”
    “I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me, Mr. Sacamore. That was nice of you to stick up for me.”
    He just looked at me and didn’t say anything.
    “No one ever says anything nice about me,” I said. “Teachers always say I’m quiet and I do my work, but that’s not really a compliment.” I looked at my feet. “What did you think of my father?”
    Sacamore leaned forward. “It’s not important what I think. I don’t have to live with him—you do. What do you think of