He just stared at Train as he trotted around the bases and held his mitt out for the next ball. I glanced in at Coach Harris and he stood in the back of the dugout, arms folded across his chest. When the ump handed a new ball to James Baldwin, he looked into the dugout and Coach clapped twice and shouted, “Alright Baldwin. Let’s get to work.” James fired the ball out to his brother on the mound and Jack went to work.In our half of the fourth, we managed to score three runs. We trailed 4-3 until our half of the eighth. Lagrange didn’t get another runner on but we did. We just couldn’t get a runner across the plate to tie the score. In the bottom of the eighth, I came to bat first. I looked down the line at Coach Harris and he gave me the sign to take. I watched the first pitch sail across for a strike. I glanced toward first and saw the take sign again. The second pitch nipped the corner for another called strike. I looked again, I saw the green light. I don’t know what. Dakota was growing, but not so big that she needed support.Dakota wanted the bra whether she needed the support or not; it was part of what the girls did to appear feminine. Her feelings had changed in the last year or so. Before that, she used to go to the river with her classmates; usually boys, to go swimming. She swam like the boys, with tight, stretch Lycra boxer shorts. She had not been particularly concerned with a top until them. It wasn't that she really cared, but other older boys started to get curious about her when they heard this girl had not been wearing a top.Now, Chico had opened her top and the men were glaring and salivating at this fourteen year old Chinese girl with her shirt pulled behind her. It would not come off; it was trapped on her arms by the handcuffs.Chico took the knife and laid the dull edge against her thigh and slid it under her shorts. He pulled up slowly; effortlessly and the faded denim fabric parted like the red sea in front of Moses. The old.
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