Chapter 1 POPLAR FIELD March 1939 In a few hours, me and my boys, the Pender County Rangers, are gonna do something we ought not to. We''ll skip school, sneak over the county line, and take a look at the new baseball field they built for the white boys in New Hanover County. If we stay on the back roads, no one will ever even know what we''re up to. Time was I could do a thing like this by myself, or talk my best friend, Mason, into going with me. But everything''s different this year. Harder. I need all the Rangers to keep me strong. Especially since today''s my daddy''s birthday and all.
That''s why we''re going to see that fancy new baseball field. Every year I do something special for him. Most times, it''s a small thing, like carving his initials in a wallet as a gift for him. But this year I''m taking Daddy Mo to Poplar Field, letting him see it through my eyes, ''cause that''s the only way he can. He died when I was eight. I reckon he was one of the best pitchers in the Negro Baseball Leagues. I aim to be just like him. Sometimes that''s mighty hard! Just like the floor of our pantry--that''s pretty hard, too, especially when you''ve got to sleep on it.
Having two quilts doesn''t help much. Better ask Gran for another one. There are shelves on both sides of me, stuffed with beans, rice, flour, and cornmeal, and if I stretch out my arms, I can touch them. That''s how I know that my days sleeping in the pantry are numbered. My head almost touches the back wall, and pretty soon my feet will stick out so far they''ll be under the kitchen table. (I haven''t always slept in here. When I was younger, me and my sister, Hope, had a bed in the back of the house. But when I got a little bigger, Gran moved me out, first to the front room--which was too cold in winter--and then here.
Yeah, it''s cramped, but it''s warm and snug.) Lordy. I''m still sleepy. I yawn, pull a quilt up over my face to shut out the morning chill, and close my eyes. I know it''s ''bout time to get up, but . Something soft hits me in the face. "Dang it, Hope!" I shoot up, a frown on my face. That girl threw my own dirty sock at me! "Watch your mouth, Cato Jones!" Hope''s grinning face pokes through the curtain in the pantry doorway.
She''s wearing a blue blouse with ruffles on the front and a skirt with blue and white polka dots. Her hair is in two plaits with a blue ribbon on each one. "You going to church?" I ask. "No, silly! I''m all dressed up because Isaac might come home today. It is Daddy Mo''s birthday." That''s not what Isaac wrote in his letter, and she knows it. He won''t be home today, and we''re not having the birthday dinner ''til he does get here. Hope must have read my mind, because she shakes her finger at me.
"Rev says if you want something bad enough, and you pray about it, it''ll happen. That''s how I know Isaac is going to be home today." I shake my head. "Wake up, girl. If Gran thought Isaac was coming today, she would''ve been getting ready." "She''s cooking something, so I reckon she thinks he might." "Gran is always cooking something." Hope rolls her eyes at me, twisting the black ribbon on the locket she always wears around her neck.
Inside that locket there''s pictures of our mother, Clarise Hopewell Jones, who died birthing Hope, and our father, Moses Octavius Jones. Folks say we''re the spitting image of them: Hope with thick black hair, cocoa-brown skin, and light brown eyes like Mama, me with Daddy Mo''s high cheekbones and skin the color of the dark brown molasses that we both loved so much. But I''ve got plenty growing to do if I''m gonna be six feet tall like he was. And plenty work to do if I''m gonna come close to pitching as good as him. "Time to get up, Romeo," says Hope, batting her eyes. She''s been teasing me ever since she heard me trying to sweet-talk my best friend Mason''s cousin, Joann. "Girl, leave me alone!" I grab the sock she threw from the pile of clothes next to me and throw it back at her. I only miss because she closes the curtain with a giggle.
"Mason''s waiting for you on the porch. Why''s he here so early?" I don''t answer her. "What kind of trouble are you planning to get into this time?" "Nunayo beeswax!" I say. When she peeks through the curtain again, I throw another sock at her. Hope narrows her eyes and stares at me, just like Gran. "You better watch out. One day you''re gonna step in something even Papa Vee can''t get you out of.".