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[color=#DCD9D0]One more time, Matt gazed towards the tall pine trees that towered around the camp. Pointing towards the sky, the evergreens stood like sentinels, always protecting the camp from invading forces and the marauders who wanted entry. Somewhere beyond the trees, he was sure monsters waited. Orcs and Wargs were likely to be prowling the forest's edge, goblins and trolls searching for a hidden passage into Wyaconda. He knew the dark forces were always waiting, looking for their chance to pillage the camp and feast on the unsuspecting children inside.

Shaking his head, Matt smiled to himself before turning back toward the beach. He knew he had zoned out. Back home, his sister would laugh whenever it happened, then she would remind everyone that Matt had “that look” again, the one he had when his imagination took over, and a new world appeared in his head. 

Looking back at the dock, Matt watched the kids still paddling awkwardly in canoes while others waded or swam in the crystal-clear lake. As kids jumped from the floating dock and splashed each other with water, the sounds of the campers beckoned, but when he looked to their faces, he didn’t know a single one. 

Brody and the other boys still hadn't shown up, and the red-haired girl he'd met on the pathway had wandered off without another word. Still holding the baseball in his hand, Matt squeezed it a little tighter, pushing it deeper into the pocket of his glove. Considering his options, he slowly turned the ball in his fingers before remembering the rule. The answer was obvious. He didn't need to make the decision. Rawlings would.

It was a game of luck or chance, somthing he'd invented a couple of years before. Like flipping a coin, he'd toss the baseball into the air and catch it in his glove. Danny always laughed at him for it, but Rawlings had settled a lot of impossible decisions over the years.

If the side stamped RAWLINGS faced up, he'd head for the forest. If the blank side was showing, he'd go to the beach. 

Matt took one slow breath and muttered to the baseball. "Don't let me down."

He pulled the ball out of the glove and made sure he didn’t look for the name. His sister had joked that he should kiss the ball for good-luck but he never did. With an underhand toss and a little bit of effort, he threw the ball high into the air. He watched as it left his hand and he noticed the way it rose up into the sky. Not taking his eye off the ball, he saw it reach its pinnacle. Against the backdrop of the blue sky and a few wispy clouds, the ball began to descend. As it fell nearer, he held up his glove and began to watch for the spin. Just like he did a thousand times before, he opened the glove and the ball dropped easily inside. 

He held the glove closed for another second before slowly peeling back the leather. He already knew which answer he was hoping for, but the decision wasn't his anymore. As the mitt opened, Matt looked down. Red stitching. White leather. Right in the middle ...

RAWLINGS

Matt smiled as he pulled the ball from the glove. It never answered wrong.
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