Alison Cragin Herzig

“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

“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