Chapter 6

Chapter six After lunch, I threw on my Mets baseball sweatshirt and went downstairs to wait for Papa Pete. (I should mention here that I also put on pants and sneakers. I don't want you to think I was standing in the lobby with only a sweatshirt on.) Papa Pete arrived with two black-and-white cookies for us, and we set out for Riverside Drive Park. I tucked my baseball glove under my arm while I ate the chocolate part of the cookie first. By the time we reached the park, the only thing left was the icing on my fingers. We found a place on the grass right next to the basketball courts. Papa Pete tossed me the ball, and I caught it, no problem. It wasn't hard

because I was really close to him. "Back up, Hankie," he said after a few minutes. "I'm going to toss you some heat." "Not too fast, Papa Pete," I said, being careful to keep my voice down. "You know my eyes and my hands are not always friends." "Why are you whispering?" he asked me. "Oh, no reason." I shrugged. "This wouldn't have anything to do with... oh... zombies, could it?" He raised one eyebrow. I laughed, a little too hard. Okay, way too hard. "You've got to be kidding me," I said. Papa Pete nodded. I think he knew what I was really scared of. Papa Pete always knows everything about me. "Well, we're here to have fun, so let's do it," he said. "Just back up a little more, Hankie. Every couple of throws you can back up another step. Pretty soon, you'll be catching and throwing like a Major Leaguer." We tossed the ball back and forth. i

dropped some of the balls. To be honest, I dropped most of them. But Papa Pete didn't mind. He just smiled and said, "Good try." I took another few steps back, and Papa Pete threw me a real smoker. He has a good arm for a grandpa. Just as I stretched up in the air to catch it, I heard a mean-sounding voice shout, "I got this one, Zipperbutt." From out of nowhere, Nick McKelty had zoomed right in front of me. Where had he come from? He held his claw-like hand up in the air and snagged the ball just before it reached my glove. "That's how you catch a ball, ding-dong," he snarled.

"Excuse me, young man," Papa Pete called to him. "My grandson and I are having a catch here." "You call this having a catch?" McKelty snickered. "I call it tossing around meatballs." "Who brought you here?" Papa Pete asked, giving Nick a stern eye. "My dad. We just came from checking out his new bowling alley. It's going to have one hundred fifty lanes. Oh and did I mention, the balls glow a million different colors. It's so

bright, you can bowl in the dark." "Are you sure you're not making some of this up?" Papa Pete asked him. I wanted to blurt out that McKelty was nothing but a big bully and a liar. But I didn't want to raise my voice in case of zombies. "I've heard about this new bowling alley," Papa Pete said. "In fact, I've been looking forward to starting a bowling league in the neighborhood. Maybe I'll go discuss it with your father." "My dad's over there on the basketball court," McKelty said. "He's the one making all the slam dunks." "Actually, he's the short guy who keeps dropping the ball," I told Papa Pete. "Why don't you two boys toss the ball around while I talk with your dad," Papa Pete said. "I'll be back before you can say 'Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.'" "Why would I want to say that?" McKelty said. Obviously the big lug had never heard of Mother Goose.

Papa Pete walked over to the basketball court. Instead of backing up for a catch, McKelty came really close to my face and flashed me a crooked smile. "So, Zipperhead, you almost wet your pants last night, didn't you?" "I don't know what you're talking about, Nick." "I saw you covering your eyes during Attack of the Zombies. You were so scared, I thought you were going to cry. I bet you had zombie dreams, too." "Who told you that?" I frowned, making my voice sound angry just like my dad's does when he looks at my report card. "I know these things," McKelty said. "You don't know anything!" I insisted. "I wasn't scared." "That's good, Zipperbutt, because i