Frankie could not believe that the Arrows were behind points, potentially losing a baseball game early in the season. Because of it, he was throwing daggers at the opposing team's star player, Calvin Carr.
"Man, I wish Calvin breaks a leg. Or an arm. Just so that I don't have to look at that face all afternoon," breathed an exhausted Frankie. "He won't give up pestering me. I want that smirk on his face gone. Did you see? He threw a sick pitch at me."
His best friend, Alas, patted his left shoulder. "Don't you think that's a bit extreme, wanting him to injure himself because you failed to hit the ball a couple of times? Just play the game and beat him. His play has improved, that's obvious. No one seems able to stop him today. Not even you, The Great Frankie Bosworth."
Frankie's upper lip twitched at his friend's dig, not convinced. "Oh, yeah? I think you should do the breaking. He's your favorite cousin after all. He might let you, big cousin Al. "
