The Boonsville Bombers Quotes

“Strike one!" Joe yelled.
Emma stepped away from the plate. She wondered if anyone in history had ever struck out nine times in a row.
Joe threw the ball back. "You're never going to get a hit," he said. "Swinging like that."
"Like what?" As soon as she said it, Emma was sorry she'd asked. She knew he was going to say, "Like a chicken."
Joe went into his crouch again. "You're swinging too early," he muttered.
"What?"
"You're way out in front of the ball." Joe's voice was so low Emma could hardly hear him. "Wait till it gets to you. But don't say I told you.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“Hey, Emma," Ben called. "Owen Zabriskie got a couple more hits last night. Did you watch the game?"
"Most of it," Emma said.
"When you're hot, you're hot," Spike said.
Emma nodded. She wished she could get hot. Or even a little bit warm. She wondered if Owen Zabriskie had ever struck out eight times in a row.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“Anything else?" asked Owen.
"Well," Emma said. "There's my aunt Esther. She lives in New York City, but she still roots for the Pioneers. She said to say hello."
"You say hello back from me," Owen said. "And you can give her this." He pulled off his cap. "That's all I've got, except for my shoes.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“Why didn't you just give them their dumb ball?" Joe glowered at Emma.
"It isn't theirs anymore," Emma said. "It was in the stands." She rubbed her fingers along the seams of the baseball and stared at the pictures. Most of them were of past Pioneers' teams with the dates of the years printed underneath.
"Maybe we could make a run for it," Michael said.
"How stupid can you get," Joe said. "The guards are right outside."
Emma could see them through the window in the door.
"Well, anyway, the game's got to be over soon," Michael said. "Then they'll have to let us go."
"I'm not spending the night here, that's for sure," Joe said.
"Stuff it," Michael said. "Someone's coming.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“So I'm coming, like it or not."
"You can't. You've got to get out."
"Make me," Joe said.
"Okay, kids," Mr. Benson settled himself behind the wheel. "Game time. Everybody ready to go?"
"I'm ready," Emma said.
"Can we drop you anywhere, Joe?"
"No," Joe said. "I'm coming with you. Mike invited me."
Mr. Benson turned around and stared at Michael. "You want to tell me what's going on here?" he said.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“What time is it?" he asked.
"Nine o'clock. I just told you," said Mrs. Benson.
"We'd better get going, Dad," Michael said.
Mr. Benson lowered his newspaper. "It's only an hour's drive to the stadium and the game doesn't start until two."
"But I want to be there before anyone. Owen Zabriskie likes to take early batting practice. He's probably there already."
"Owen Zabriskie is probably still asleep," Mr. Benson said.
"But, Dad, we could have a flat tire or get caught in a traffic jam..."
"Calm down, Michael. What's gotten into you this morning? Are you trying to drive your mother and me crazy?”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“But if you happen to see Owen Zabriskie tomorrow, shake his hand for me."
"Okay, but Aunt Esther..."
"What?"
Emma cupped her hand over the phone. "I was just wondering. About Mom. Did you really tell her she was a good player?"
"Yes, I did," Aunt Esther said. "It was a terrible lie. She was the worst player I ever saw in my whole life."
"She catches and throws just like a chicken," Emma whispered.
"I know.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers

“I'll play with you later, okay, Em?" Michael said.
"But I have a shirt. And you said..."
Michael looked at Joe. "Maybe we could put her in the field. With Weasel. Just for a couple of outs?"
"Have you ever seen a girl play?" Joe said. "They can't catch. They scream when they see a fly ball coming. And they can't throw. They've got arms like chicken wings." Joe flapped his elbows and squawked.
Emma stared at her sneakers.
"She's not that bad," Michael said.
"And they're bad luck," Joe said. "Everybody knows that. I'm not playing on any team with some dumb girl. And it's my bat, remember? So beat it, Pee-wee!" He shouldered the equipment bag and turned away.
"I guess you'd better go home," Michael said.
Emma went slowly back up the walk to the house.
It wasn't fair. She knew she threw better than a chicken. She threw almost as well as Joe and a lot better than Weasel Malloy.
Why hadn't Michael told Joe that? He should have made Joe let her play. He'd promised. He should have stood up for her.
She kicked a stone into the flower bed. Then she sat down on the front steps with her chin in her hands. She wished the sun would stop shining. She wished a big black thundercloud would zap right over the Bombers' heads and rain their stupid ball game out.”
― Alison Cragin Herzig, The Boonsville Bombers