A.S.T.R.O.
3. The New Kid
"Don't worry Tobio, everything will be fine!" Tommy said. "Me and Turtle will get you off on the right foot at school."
"I don't know." Tobio said. "I've never been to school before."
"Really?" Tommy asked. "You don't seem like a dummy to me."
"I bet his dad was home schooling him." Mrs. Richardson said.
"Yeah, my dad taught me everything I know." Tobio quickly replied.
"You dad must have been a genius." Tommy said.
"Yeah he was." Tobio said as he held back his tears. "I really miss him."
"Come on kids, or you'll be late for the bus!" Mr. Richardson yelled.
The three boys burst out of the front door just in time to see the taillights of the bus as it pulled away from the stop. "Not again!" Reno yelled out.
"Hey wait for us!" Tobio cried. For an instant his brown eyes glowed a dim red color as he broke into a mad dash and ran after the school bus. Both Reno and Tommy couldn't believe it as Tobio caught up with the bus, and banged on the door demanding that the driver stop. The bus driver was shocked to find a kid hanging onto the door by the fingers of both hands sticking thought the junction of the two door panels. He hit the brakes and opened the door. By the time Tobio entered the bus, Tommy and Reno had caught up with him.
"Holly Crap Tobio!" Tommy yelled, "you must have been running nearly 40 miles an hour to catch up with the bus!"
Turtle was already on the bus having got on board at the previous pickup stop. The four kids shared two empty benches across from each other.
After dropping the middle school kids off, the bus continued on its way. Tommy and Tobio waved goodbye to Reno as he left the bus for his school. A few blocks later they were dropped in front of the elementary school. Tommy and Turtle escorted Tobio to their classroom and Tobio took an empty seat that Mr. Clark, their teacher, had assigned him.
After introducing Tobio to the class, Mr. Clark dropped a surprise math test on the students. He handed out the exam papers. "OK, let's see how well you really studied the section of the textbook I assigned you last week." Mr. Clark said. "Tobio, I know you never got to read the textbook, but why don't you try the exam anyway so we can see what you know on the subject." Mr. Clark pointed to the clock on the wall above his desk. "Class, you have twenty minutes to complete the exam, and then we will grade each others papers."
Most of the students groaned as the exam papers were handed out, and they moaned more once they got their first look at the problems. Tobio quietly worked his pencil on the paper without any expression on his face. After five minutes he set the pencil down and sat quietly with his hands folded on the table. Mr. Clark seemed surprised to see that Tobio had finished the exam in less than half the allotted time.
"OK Class, Time's up!" Mr. Clark announced. "Exchange papers with the student in the row next to you and we will begin go correct each others exams and learn what mistakes we made!"
Tobio switched test sheets with the girl to his right and looked at her answers. He started making pencil marks on the test paper indicating which questions were incorrectly answered and what the correct result should have been. Mr. Clark noticed what he was doing and rushed over to his desk.
"What do you think you are doing son?" he demanded.
"I'm correcting the paper as you asked Sir." Tobio replied.
"But I haven't yet given out the correct answers." the teacher told him.
Tobio handed the instructor the paper he'd just marked up. "You'll notice that I've correctly graded this paper." he said. "Technically the fourth answer is correct, but there is an error in the 6th decimal place."
Mr. Clark grabbed the paper from Tobio, and also picked up the boy's exam from his partner. He quickly scanned both. His eyes started to twitch and his face turned a beet red when he noticed that Tobio's answers were, in fact, perfect.
Mrs. Richardson greeted Tommy and Tobio as they entered the house after Tobio's first day in school.
"So how did it go today Tobio?" She asked. "Do you like you teacher?" she asked.
"He's OK." Tobio said, shrugging his shoulders. "But a bit strange."
"Hey mom, you should have seen Tobio outsmart Mr. Clark in class today!" Tommy butt in. "He got all the answers right on the math test and even spotted a mistake that Mr. Clark missed."
"I think I made Mr. Clark look stupid, didn't I Tommy?" Tobio sighed. "Maybe that's why his face got all red today. I'll try not to act so smart tomorrow."
"Well first of all today's Friday so there isn't any school tomorrow." Tommy told Tobio. "And second, well I guess you do need to act more like the other kids who weren't schooled by their dads."
"OK." Tobio said, nodding his head.
Mr. Richardson got up early on Saturday to prepare breakfast for the family as usual. Tobio and Tommy entered the kitchen together and sat down at the table. Reno was still up in his room sleeping.
"Hey Tommy," his dad asked, "You ready for our practice today? I've got most of the team showing up, we're going to bone up on our fielding and get some batting practice in. I tell you, I think we can beat the Rockets this Sunday, we need just a bit more preparation that's all."
After his dad put a plate of eggs with bacon in front of each of the boys he ran upstairs to wake Reno. Tobio noticed the look on Tommy's face and he questioned him. "Hey, what's the matter?"
"It's my dad." Tommy sighed. "He's the coach of the Bears, that's my Little League baseball team. My dad really wants us to beat the Rockets, they're a team coached by this guy my dad really hates. Problem is, my team just sucks. We can't seem to do anything right."
Mr. Richardson's footsteps on the staircase were joined by those of Reno as the two of them entered the kitchen. "Want to come see us practice?" Tommy sighed.
"Sure, why not?" Reno said, looking up from his breakfast. "Maybe I can notice what you guys are doing wrong."
"Can I come?" Tobio asked.
"Sure thing." Tommy said, "Maybe you might want to try out for a position on the team. Turtle's pitching stinks and he'd rather catch anyway."
Tobio grabbed a baseball out of the bag that Mr. Richardson had left in the hallway near the front door. He turned it over in his hand and closely examined the stitching on the cover of the ball. He then wrapped his fingers around the sphere, giving it a good feel.
"Whatcha doing?" Reno laughed, "reverse engineering the ball?"
"No, just examining it." Tobio said.
Mr. Richardson grabbed the sports bag and Tobio tossed the ball back to him to replace it inside.
The four of them marched out of the house and walked the half dozen avenue blocks over to the park where the ball field was. The rest of the team was already there when the Richardson's arrived. "OK guys we'll lineup for batting practice first," Robert said.
Tobio sat down behind the backstop and watched. He'd never seen baseball played before and the game was totally alien to him. Turtle was pitching and he was having a hard time getting the ball over the plate. His fastball was anemic, his curve ball totally predictable, and he had no luck striking anyone out. Not that the team was able to get much wood on the ball anyway, nobody was hitting anything harder than weak grounders or pop ups.
"Totally pathetic." Robert turned around to see Clyde Windermere walking his team to the adjacent ball field. "We could show up with just half of our team and embarrass you guys." the coach of the Rockets laughed.
"Stuff it Clyde!" Robert yelled back. "One of these days!"
"Yeah, like when hell freezes over!" Clyde shot back as he and the Rockets walked away.
Turtle took his glove off and threw it to the ground. "I told you I couldn't pitch!" he yelled. "I want to catch!"
Tobio got up off the ground and and walked over to Robert. "Can I try?"
"You want to pitch?" Mr. Richardson asked. "OK, I'll get up to bat. Let's see what you can do. Turtle, you get behind the plate."
Turtle handed Tobio his glove and dug in the sports bag for a pitcher's mitt. He squatted behind the plate and tossed the ball up towards the mound. Robert Richardson picked up a bat and took up a stance beside the plate.
Turtle ran up to the plate and spoke to Tobio. "If I show one finger it's a fast ball, two for a curve, and three for slow pitch. OK?"
Tobio nodded, and Turtle walked back to his position. He signaled for a fast ball. Tobio nodded and carefully thought out the problem. He mentally calculated the distance to the plate, the windage, and the effort required. Without any fancy windup he simply leaned back and put his arm into it. The ball crossed the distance between the pitching rubber and Turtles mitt so quickly that Mr. Richardson thought he heard the crack of a sonic boom. He took a swing at the ball, and missed. Turtle caught the ball, and fell off of his feet. He rolled backwards and crashed into the backstop.
"Holly crap Tobio!" Turtle yelled. "That HURT!"
Bob put down his bat and walked over to the sports bag. He removed the cheap radar gun he had borrowed to measure the speed of a pitched ball. "Try that again, Tobio." he asked.
Turtle nervously took up his position behind the plate. Tobio aimed his throw at Turtles mitt again and fired. Bob looked at the Radar gun. The reading had gone off the scale!
"OMG!" Bob stammered. "If this radar gun isn't broken you just made Nolan Ryan look like a girl scout!"
The ball bounced out of Turtles mitt. "I think he broke my hand!" Turtle cried. "How god-damn fast did he throw it?"
"At least 110 mph" Bob gasped. "Turtle if you can figure out how to hang onto that ball and Tobio can throw that pitch 81 times in a row, we just might have a perfect game against the Rockets."
"Yeah, if one of us could hit the ball." Turtle smirked.
Tobio took off the glove and dropped the ball onto the mound. He walked towards the plate. "Can I have a turn a bat?"
"Sure, son." Mr. Richardson replied. "I'll pitch to you."
Bob got on the mound. Turtle set the batting helmet on Tobio's head and then got behind the plate. Reno stood behind the backstop watching. Tobio stepped up to the plate to bat left handed, despite the fact that he'd just been pitching as a righty. Bob didn't bother to question that, he knew a left handed batter had a slight advantage. "OK son," He said, "I'll give you my fastball first."
Bob wound up and threw a fast pitch right over the plate. Tobio swung and missed. He stood there as if analyzing what had happened, nodded and looked back at the mound. Mr. Richardson threw a curve ball, this time slightly inside. Tobio stared at the ball and his mind locked in on its trajectory. His brown eyes gave off a momentary red glow, and then faded back to normal. He swung and connected with the fat part of the bat.
CRACK!
The ball flew towards the outfield like a cannon projectile, slowly rising as it traveled. It cleared the outfield fence by a good ten feet, landing somewhere in the next field, a good 600 feet away.
"I think Tobio is going to bat cleanup tomorrow!" Bob stammered.
Dr. O'Shay noticed a brief blip on the monitor. For a split second A.S.T.R.O.'s enhanced ability had been tapped into and he almost got a lock on him. A day later it happened again, this time twice. The blip still wasn't long enough to be useful, but it had given him a a very general track. Their robot was in the city somewhere. Still a needle in a haystack, but at least they now had found the haystack. He was about to Notify Dr. Pavilion, and then thought better of it. O'Shay felt that he owed Dr. Tenma something. He'd rather be the one to locate Tobio, he didn't like the idea of what Pavilion might do if he found the missing robot.