PROLOGUE
I remember the day I saw the shooting stars. Darryl and I were twelve. We were playing catch at Roxy’s house. I remember throwing the ball over Darryl’s head and watching it roll into the bushes. The sun was going down behind the trees that lined the back of Roxy’s lot. We walked towards the golden sky to look for the ball. After a few minutes  of looking, we found the baseball and turned our backs to the sunset to continue playing catch. That’s when we saw them. “Make a wish,” Darryl said. Both of us closed our eyes, and made twelve-year-old wishes.
“What did you wish for?” I asked.
“To be a baseball player.”
“Me too.”
“Look, there’s another one!” Darryl shouted. “Make another wish.”
I closed my eyes and wished as hard as I could.
“Now what did you wish for?”
“I wished we had a baseball team in Bloomington,” I said.
Darryl looked puzzled at first, as if the idea had never crossed his mind. Then his face lit up. “Wow. I wish I would have thought of that. Well, I’m sure it will come true. It has to.”
Darryl was just as sure it would happen as he was that baseball bats were made of wood. Darryl was sure. I said, “I don’t know.”