"Strike three! That's a ball game boys!"

It was the first weekend of summer baseball. The park in Ithaca was filled with the local Little League teams playing each other. It was a bright Saturday afternoon and there were plenty of families in the park; some there for the games and others just enjoying the weekend. The park pool was in much use and water fountains had more splash than usual.

Meanwhile, Peter was celebrating a win on an opening game. The batter, who had just been struck out by his curve ball, tipped his hat in acknowledgement of the throw. His team came out to congratulate him. Then, followed the usual shaking of the hands and the repetitive, "good game" between the opponents and a few "see you next time around". Afterwards, the boys dispersed to their family and friends.

Jimmy waited in the dugout for Peter. He had become the team's resident cheerleader as Peter teased him often enough about. All through the week, Jimmy had attended practices with Peter. Paul and Andrew had decided that Jimmy, while he was injured, didn't exactly count as someone to have with you at all times. So, they had been coming to the fields as well, disguising their 'protective detail' as just wanting to play catch. It was also an excuse to drive Peter and Jimmy out to the field when normally they would be out on their bikes.

Though Christopher Winters was on house arrest until the trial, the second man—Terry Dixon—was still out on the run, laying low. The police were searching high and low for him. They had even asked for help from detectives who had dealt with him in New York. But there was no such luck so far. They tried not to think about it though.

"Nice game there, son," said Jimmy with a high five to Peter. "You've got the meanest curve ball I've ever seen."

"That one guy in the seventh clipped it," replied Peter, slightly disappointed.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "But you still whupped 'em good, man. A win's a win."

"Agreed," said Peter. He changed from his cleats, pants, and long socks into a pair of shorts and tennis shoes. Then, he grabbed his glove and he and Jimmy left the dugout. Jimmy was now happily only using one crutch.

They greeted Paul and Andrew beside the stands. They gave their congratulations, but their expressions showed that their thoughts were elsewhere.

"What's up," asked Peter.

"Mark is here with a few of his friends," said Paul.

Peter and Jimmy followed his gaze across the baseball diamond. Outside the outfield fence, they saw Mark, Harrison, Kendall and two other boys looking their direction.

"They always make sure there's one more than us," observed Andrew.

"Let's go grab a bite to eat or something," said Jimmy. "There's that new pizza parlor just around the corner we could try."

"Good idea," said Paul. "But first we have to find Anne and her friend. They went swimming."

They started making their way to the pool, but each kept an eye on the movements of Mark and his crew. They were keeping their distance, but going in the same direction as them.

"You think they just want to talk to us," asked Jimmy. "I mean, they couldn't fight us out here could they?"

"That would be pretty stupid," said Andrew. "I mean, with all these people it would be broken up pretty quick. There's no point."

They came up to the pool, and Paul hollered for Anne. They started swimming over.

"Hey Burke, can I have a word?"

The boys turned around to see Mark and his crew behind them. Mark stepped forward, with a neutral expression.

Peter quickly stepped forward. "Which one? Because we're both in this conversation."

Paul yanked his younger brother back. "What's up Mark?"

"First off, I just wanted to apologize for your kid brother getting knocked around," said Mark. "I know you probably think it was my idea, but it wasn't. Harrison and Kendall here just got worked up. That's all."

"Sure," said Paul. "It happens."

"Right," said Mark. "And you and I have always respected each other. I thought you would understand."

Harrison leaned forward ad held out his hand. After a nudge from Paul, Peter reached out and shook it, and then Kendall's.

"There," said Mark. "We're all good."

Anne came up out of the pool then, a few paces to the side. She looked between the two groups, feeling the tension, and walked over.

"But I wouldn't go anywhere alone," said Kendall as he backed away from Peter.

Andrew, who was closest to him, put his hand on Kendall's shoulder and gave him a little nudge away.

"Hey, man, we don't want any trouble," said Andrew.

Kendall lost his cool a little and shoved Andrew. Andrew caught his balance before falling into the pool, but he was shoved into Anne. On the wet concrete, she lost her balance, and slipped. The back of her head slammed onto the pavement before she rolled into the pool, limp as a rag doll.

Very quickly, three things happened.

First, and amazingly, Jimmy was the first one into the poll to rescue her. Paul was right behind him.

Second, Peter lunged forward, and grabbed Kendall by the collar. Mark grabbed Kendall's arms and Andrew went to restrain Peter by throwing his arms around Peter's torso.

And third, Peter ground out: "You leave my friends and my family alone, because I was the one who said it was Christopher Winters in that car. It was me, and if you have any trouble with it, you take it up with me."

He let Kendall go. Mark jerked Kendall back, but looked oddly at Peter. But then, Peter was jerked away by Andrew, who was obviously displeased by his actions. They watched Mark and his crew hurry off while people started gathering around the pool.

Andrew glared at Peter, but whatever he wanted to say would be left unsaid because Paul and Jimmy came up with Anne, who was now conscious. Peter and Andrew bent over to pull her out of the water. Peter took her towel from her friend and draped it around her shoulders.

"You all right," he asked.

She nodded, still shocked. "I just hit my head. It just knocked me silly."

He felt the back of her head and she winced when he found the knot. "It's not bleeding," he said. "You guys go get dressed and we'll get out of here."

"Where's Mark," she asked.

"He's gone now, don't worry about it," replied Peter.

Anne just nodded and with her friend they went to go get into dry clothes. Paul and Jimmy got out of the pool, their wet clothes weighing down on them. Peter handed Jimmy his crutch.

"How about you, are you okay," he asked.

"Never better," replied Jimmy. "Just getting some exercise and a nice, cool dip in the pool. It was a spur of the moment decision."

The boys smiled at Jimmy's ability to defuse a tense moment. But it didn't last long. Andrew broke the dam.

"Well, Petey here blew his cover," he said.

"What are you talking about," asked Paul.

"He told 'em that he was the one who identified those guys," replied Andrew.

"What," exclaimed Paul. "Are you an idiot? Now they're gonna come after you!"

"Good," shot back Peter. "I don't want them going after any of you guys. You saw what just happened! Anne got hurt because she was around. If they just come after me, it won't happen again."

Paul shook his head. "You are unbelievable. It was you just a few days go telling me that we have to stay together."

"That was before," replied Peter. "Before someone else got hurt."

Paul just shook his head. "You're an idiot. That was a dumb, rash move. Now, they aren't going to be the only ones that know. Christopher Winters will know and so will that other guy. You know, the guy they haven't caught yet? The guy you might be still lurking around, waiting for his chance. They don't want you to testify Peter. Because once you do, it's more trouble for 'em. They'll want to keep you from testifying. It's more difficult to keep four boys from testifying, but now they just have one. Now, they're only coming after you."

Peter didn't let them see how that did make him nervous inside. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes. "They can beat me up all they want, I'll still testify."

Paul shook his head. "You're playing with fire. I'm not talking about boys on a baseball diamond ganging up on you. It's more than that now."

"I'm not threatened by them," said Peter.

Paul just nodded. "Yeah, well, you have two days till the trial. And you're not going anywhere without anyone."

"Whatever," said Peter. "It's two days."

Paul just shook his head. "Deny it all you want, cowboy, but you better keep your cool till then."

That wasn't the only lecture he got. There was one from his father, that evening when he heard about what happened. Then, after the Sunday paper came out the next day, Lt. Cooper dropped by to lecture him as well. Peter was angry with all of them. Didn't they see what he had done? He just wanted to keep from other people getting hurt. But no one cared what he said in reply; they still said his actions were rash and dumb.

Peter kept his chin up, though. He still firmly believed in what he had done. He even told his father that he would do it again if he had to. That only brought a look of deep disappointment from him. Peter was hurt by the look, but pushed it aside. He couldn't back down now.

The rest of Saturday was spent at the house and then they went to church on Sunday morning, where most people gazed carefully at Peter. But he couldn't read them. He couldn't figure out what they were thinking. Some looked pleased and others looked angry. There was still a riff about having the Judge's chance for Supreme Court in the state basically ripped away. And they saw fit to blame that on the boys and more specifically Peter.

After church, the phone rang. It was for Peter. It was the diner he worked at, saying that one of the kitchen workers who was supposed to come in that day had called in sick. Could he come in? He replied that he would be there as soon as possible.

"I need to go to the diner," he told his parents. "They're short. They said they pay double if I came in."

"How long will you be there for," asked Marie, obviously worried.

"They close at four on Sundays," Peter said.

"Okay," said John. "I'll drive you and come pick you up."

Peter sighed, irritated with all the worry over him now. But he just nodded and changed out of his Sunday best.

"Where you going," asked Paul, lounging on his bed with a magazine.

"Work. They're shorthanded." Paul started to rise up and Peter raised a hand. "Don't worry, Dad is dropping me off and picking me up."

Paul nodded. "Good. Be careful."

"I'm just gonna be in a kitchen for six hours," said Peter. "What the heck is gonna happen in a kitchen?"

The drive there was rather awkward. John seemed like he wanted to tell his son something, because Peter was still being stubborn about it all. They hadn't said much to one another since John's long lecture to him the previous day.

But when they got to the diner, Peter just said. "See ya at four."

John nodded and watched his son enter the diner before driving off.

Peter went around back to enter the kitchen. The first thing he saw when he opened the door was Judge Bardwell, sitting in his Sunday best on a stool by the chopping counter in the kitchen. Peter froze, sensing that something was up. Then, a man that Peter had never seen before, reach forward and grabbed him by the collar. He shut the door behind Peter and pushed him forward into the kitchen.

"Sit down, boy," he said.

Peter looked around. The owner of the diner, an elderly man, was standing on the other side of the kitchen, looking worried. He stood beside his sons, who were the two cooks.

"They made you call me," Peter realized suddenly.

Judge Bardwell smiled. "Nice catch, son. You're smart. Now, have a seat." He gestured to another stool.

"I think I'll just stand," replied Peter.

The man behind him pushed him forward. "Sit."

Peter sat and the Judge smiled. "Attaboy. Now, let's get straight to it." But, first, he looked back at the owner and his sons. "You three, go out front and just let us have a private conversation." They didn't budge. "I promise, no harm will come to this kid. We just need a few minutes to talk. George, go out there with them and make sure they don't go anywhere."

They all left, leaving Peter alone with the Judge.

"Well, it's been awhile since I've seen you," said the Judge. "Now, you're practically famous around here. First, it was that knuckle ball you threw to close out the championship game. Now, it's because you saw something you wish you hadn't."

"I don't regret either," shot back Peter.

The Judge smiled. "Mark told me you were a hard nut to crack." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope and set it on the table.

"What's that?"

"It's for you."

Peter reached for it and opened it. Money spilled out. His eyes widened as he saw all the $100 bills. He looked at the Judge.

"Are you trying to bribe me?"

"I don't want to see my friend Christopher get in trouble for this. I'd like to think that you just hit your head hard and mistook him for someone else."

"I know what I saw?"

"Even with that $20,000 in your hand, you know what you saw?"

"Yes."

"That's a lot of money, son. That money can go a long way. You want to take care of your family?"

Peter's breath hitched. He fingered the $100 bills. "This must be from your savings, Judge. Because I didn't think judges made this kind of money. Unless you're getting it from somewhere else." He looked up at the Judge sharply. "You're involved aren't you? With that guy and his drug ring?"

The Judge smiled. "That's quite an accusation there. Unfortunately, your Lt. friend is starting to come to the same conclusions."

"You trying to bribe him, too?"

"No, because he won't have a case if you say nothing."

"I already told him what I know. He knows what I saw. And he's not the only one."

"But you're the one that has to testify. He can say all he wants but you're the witness. If you don't testify, then he doesn't have a case."

Peter looked down at the money.

"Think about what $40,000 could do for you and your family."

"$40,000? You just told me it was $20,000."

"There will be another $20,000 after the trial when you don't testify."

"When? What makes you so sure I will?"

"Because you care about your family."

"I can care and not do something illegal."

"But when do you think you'll ever get your hands on money like this again? Don't you think that your parents deserve so much more than they get because of what they do. They work what, at least six days a week, from sunup to sundown and all they get are those meager wages to which the use up to take care of their kids and home. How much savings do you think they have? How long are they going to have to work before they can retire?"

Peter swallowed. "My father would never take drug money. Filthy money that his son got in a bribe."

"You're smart," said the Judge. "I'm sure you could figure out a legitimate story as to how you came by all this. No one said you had to give it to anyone right now. You could wait a few years, until you're out of school, have a job. Something to make it seem more natural."

"You're crazy," said Peter. "Why can't you just be a clean judge? Why did two people have to get killed, anyway?"

"It doesn't concern you."

"You're wrong though. It concerns me because I saw it! And I saw you did it too! You think I can just sit around every day, knowing who killed those people and not say anything about it? Do you think I'm as dirty as you?"

The Judge frowned. "Let me tell you something about the world, son. No one is innocent. Those people who got killed, they were into drugs too. They were dirtier than you think I am. Everyone has a side to them you don't know. Everyone has done something that can come back to haunt them if the right people find out. You're young. You haven't come across it yet. But one day, you'll make a decision, and you'll go 'dirty', as you put it."

Peter shook his head. "No, I won't. And just so you know, there isn't dirty or dirtier. A criminal is a criminal is a criminal. It doesn't matter what you've done or haven't done. The end game should always be the same: off the streets."

"You're naïve," said the Judge. "And I was too when I was your age. I thought that there was only black and white. One day, you'll learn that everyone is gray."

"No," said Peter. "There is black and white in everyone and it's what they choose to be that makes them the color we see. And I'm not turning black."

The Judge stood up. "You just hang onto that money, son. It'll come to you." He patted Peter on the shoulder and left.

Peter looked down at the envelope and swallowed. He closed it and tucked it away in his pocket.

When his father came and picked him up, John said: "It looks like I'll be able to go to the trial tomorrow after all."

"Really," asked Peter. "Did your boss give you the day off?"

"No," said John. "I got laid off. I'm out of a job."

()()()()()()

"It was the Judge," said Neal. "He made your dad lose his job."

Peter nodded. "Though it was never proven, it can be assumed that's what happened."

"So what did you do? Did you tell him about the money?"

"No."

"You kept it?"

"I had it with me. I was going to tell him. But that—it threw me off. I knew it was my fault. I knew that if I had just told the Judge that I wouldn't testify, my dad would still have his job. So I had this $20,000 in my pocket and that there might be $40,000 in the end. Now that my dad didn't have a job, it meant more."

Neal nodded. "I understand."

"I knew you would."

"Just out of curiosity…you don't still believe that a criminal is a criminal is a criminal, do you?"

Peter sighed. "I still believe that I don't care what crime you committed, murder or mortgage fraud, you're still a criminal. However, I still think that a man can change. That he doesn't have to be a criminal forever, and that sometimes he really isn't a criminal at heart."

"Why, thank you."

"This applies to anyone."

"Sure."

"I've met many criminals, Neal. This does not solely apply to you."

"Just keep telling yourself that."

Peter rolled his eyes. "But I still believe that there is good and bad in everyone. It's the choices you make and why you make them that makes you a good person or a bad person. I've seen a lot now, where we might step into an area you like to call a 'grey area'. But I think big picture. Is it bad that we do a little crime to achieve our goal in putting the bad guy away? And if you think you have to commit that crime, is there really no other way? Is it your last resort?"

"You're a philosophical man, Peter."

"I try."

"So, what happened next?"

"Let's just say that Tuesday's headlines were quite the stir."