SECRETS OF THE TOAD: Play Ball

By Trisha (Patty Page)

In SECRETS OF THE TOAD – PLAY BALL, the second book of this series, Jake is all excited to start a new baseball season and resume his successful pitching position from last year. But with this new season comes a new coach who just happens to have a son who steps into that very same position. Jake quickly finds that he is no match for favoritism. In fact, things get so bad that Jake actually considers quitting baseball altogether. His sister, Emma, urges him to seek counsel from Tobias, the mystical toad. With some hesitation, Jake takes Emma's advice. Tobias soon sheds new light on Jake’s circumstance as he takes him on a magical journey of invaluable discovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Mar 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662905964

Book preview

Gift

Chapter 1

Practice

Coach gives one quick burst of his whistle. The players continue with their practice, but all ears are tuned into the commanding instruction.

Ryan, be quick. Lob that ball. Nice hit, Carter. Just straighten it out a bit. Outfield, do you know where that ball is falling? All eyes on that ball. Two times around the bases, gentlemen. Then to the dugout.

Jacob Andrew Wright, or Jake for short, tosses his mitt to the ground and falls into line.

Jake, wait up.

Jake looks over as Pete trots up beside him. With beads of sweat dripping down his nose, Pete brushes away the wet black hair that reaches his eyebrows.

Jake gives his head a shake. Man, I don’t know how long Coach is gonna let you get away with that hair of yours.

It’s my style, Jake. Pete sweeps his hair back once again. Besides, we can’t all be Mr. Dimples the Clean-cut Jock like you.

Jake lets that comment pass, but he can’t help but wonder how his sister, Emma, could be interested in this kid.

Just as they round the first lap, Jake notices someone sitting in the bleachers. Hey, Pete. He points with his chin. It looks like we have our first spectator of the season.

Pete gives a snort. If it isn’t Tuba, our foul, farting friend. I wonder what the heck he’s doing here—of all places. I’m surprised that he could even make it up the bleachers.

Jake shrugs. Beats me.

Tuba reminds Jake of one big beach ball with brown curls. Jake glances over to see him push up his thick black glasses to the bridge of his nose—a thing that he does every few seconds. Jake wonders if he would be able to see a ball coming toward him. Yeah, this is a funny place to find Tuba. But then again—it’s Tuba.

Pete is beginning to pant. That Tuba is one weird kid.

Starting the second lap, Jake answers, Well, at least he seems happy enough. He’s always smiling. Jake wonders if Tuba has any friends—none that he knows of.

Pete chuckles. Yeah, well, maybe he knows something that we don’t. And speaking of secrets, Jake, do ya think Coach J will tell us what position we’ll be playing?

Jake shakes his head. Don’t know. I thought he would have told us by now.

I don’t know about you, Jake, but I really don’t like surprises. And I think there’re going to be a lot of surprises this season.

Pete, you worry too much.

Yeah, okay, Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected, this is the last lap. Show me what ya got, buddy.

You’re on. Jake spurts out a sudden burst of steam just like his mom’s red, whistling teakettle. He is off. Looking back over his right shoulder, he shouts, You’re toast, Pete!

Jake reaches home base and begins picking up the bats that are strewn behind the plate as he tries to catch his breath. This wouldn’t ordinarily be a big deal, but Jake isn’t the pick-up kind of guy. His bedroom is a total disaster. In fact, he is often bargaining with his sister, Emma, to get her to clean his room for him. It might work once in a great while. Actually, Emma now owes Jake a month of clean up. This is for exchanging information about Pete, who Emma just happens to have a major crush on. Jake just doesn’t get it. Pete is a nice enough guy, but he and his sister? No.

Jake grabs two bats in each hand and swings them on top of his shoulders. He heads to the dugout. Pete, all red-faced, trots up behind him. Well, here he is! Where’ve ya been, Pete?

That’s funny, Jake. Real funny. They step into the dugout.

Grabbing Coach’s black canvas bat bag, Jake unloads the bats. He takes his seat on the wooden bench next to Dylan. Ryan quickly sits on the other side of Jake.

Hey, Ry. Pete gives Ryan a light shove on the shoulder. That’s my seat, man.

Ryan looks up. Yeah, well, I don’t see your name on it, Pete.

Pete flicks Ryan’s nose with one finger. It’s right here, bud.

Ryan scrubs his nose with his arm. Then he holds up both hands. Here, take it, Pete. Man, do you ever smell.

Jake just takes it all in as he runs his hand through his well-kept, dirty blond hair. He gets along with everyone, and yeah, people want to sit next to him. Jake just doesn’t get this. He and Pete are friends, but they are also stiff competitors. What does it matter where they sit?

Ya know, Jake, Pete says with an elbow to Jake’s ribs, you only beat me by seconds.

Jake bobs his head. Yeah, whatever, Pete.

Coach Johnson, or Coach J for short, walks into the dugout. As usual, he is carrying his metal clipboard with a black marker attached by a string. Coach J actually looks more like a football coach than a baseball coach. Beefy biceps bulge at the sleeves of his sonic fitted T-shirt. His body seems almost hulk-like. He has a stone-cold face, and he doesn’t smile much. It always looks like he has a fresh military haircut.

Emma has talked about Coach’s bright blue eyes and his muscles. It sounds like the girls go googly over him. Girl stuff—Jake doesn’t see it.

Listen up, gentlemen. Our first game is just around the corner. Coach J begins to pace in front of the players. Now, I have to tell you, it won’t be an easy first game. We are playing the Dunsberry Diamonds, and they are one tough team. I’ve seen their pitcher. He has a mean curveball. I hate to say this, but I don’t think that we’re ready for them yet.

Jake can’t help but wonder if Coach J will ever think that they’re ready.

Coach J stops pacing and holds a finger point that travels down the length of the bench, pausing at each player. "To each one of you players, the main thing is that you have to keep your eyes