“Itching powder!” Sparky read the words aloud. He flipped the bottle open and tipped it upside down. “Empty. Well, I’ll be …” Sparky squinted down at Mike. Wisps of white wiry hair poked out from under the edge of his baseball cap. “Where’d you get this, son?” “I found it in the trash can in the locker room,” Mike said. “Right next to the door.” “Hmph,” Sparky snorted. He snapped around and stamped to the edge of the dugout where Josh stood. Sparky fixed his eyes on Josh. He held up the empty bottle. “Robinson, I was warned about your practical jokes,” Sparky said. “Don’t pull any more. Have all the fun you want with your regular team. I’m here to win the all-star game for the American League, and I’m going to do it with you or without you.” Josh took a step back. “Whoa! Coach, I—I didn’t have anything to do with that!” he sputtered. “Everyone knows that I like practical jokes. But I don’t know anything about that itching powder.”
