The voice behind the mask delivered its loud verdict to a chorus of disbelieving gasps. “But that was above his shoulder!” one high-muted chirp rang out. Another echoed the sentiment in a barely disguised whisper. “He couldn’t have hit that!” Then came the third, its call louder and, more dangerously, directed at the offending umpire. “Hey, get your glasses—” “That’s enough, kids!” Amber MacLaine, clutching scorebook and pencil to her chest, stepped back from the baseline to still the team sitting on the bench. A sweeping flick of her wrist made a place for her in their midst. As she eased her slender frame down onto the hard wood, her tone held gentle warning. “Take it easy, now. Remember what I’ve told you—we win some, we lose some. Some calls go our way, some don’t. Let’s be patient. It’ll even out.” “But, Mrs. MacLaine—” “No ‘buts,’ Billy. Patience!” Her own stayed in check, as a jabbing forefinger returned the attention to the game.
