L 7 Weenie

Smalls

Sydney McClennan knocked on his door early one summer morning. It was already hot outside, the streets were dusty, and the air was thick. The sun was shining, and shining right over his house. "He" had just moved in, right across the street from Benny Rodriguez.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door stood firmly in place - like it had been for the past five or so minutes. Sydney, however, was determined to see this boy for herself. It wasn't everyday a new guy showed up in the San Fernando Valley, and it was gettin' hotter by the second. 

"Man, how long does it take to get an answer around here," Sydney mumbled to herself. It was out of her own kindness to invite him to the Sandlot - the boys didn't pay any mind as to where she went anyway, and it seemed no one was going to invite the boy from down the street to play any ball. Maybe they just hadn't noticed him like she had.

"Hello?" said an agitated voice. In front of her - oh - the door, "Hello? Are you listening?"

It was "him". There he stood in all of his glory. Strawberry-blond hair, sunkissed-freckled cheeks, and a confused glimmer in his eye. She could see her own reflection dancing in his pupils. . .and a frown growing around his already crinkled lips.

"Oh - ya - finally," she breathed, "I'm Sydney. . .McClennan. . .I've seen you around, you know - and I wanted to-"

"I'm not interested in buying a new vacuum," he interrupted, "Thank you, though."

"He" went back to shutting the door. Imagine that! Right in her face!

"No-" she snapped suddenly, jamming her foot in between the frame and the door, "OW!"

The boy jerked the door open quickly and peered down at her foot.

"Why would you do that?" he gasped, glaring at her dirty shoes, "I could have broken it, you know!"

Sydney stifled a painful smile and gulped, "Oh-" she breathed, holding back tears, "Oh - no -really-"

"Here, let me get you some ice for that," the boy interrupted. He slid the door open a little further as if inviting her inside.

"That's not-um-that's not-" she cleared her throat and blinked hard enough to control the tears, "That's not necessary, actually. I'm not here to sell you a vacuum cleaner. . .I'm here to invite you to come to play baseball. . ." she explained, "-at the Sandlot with some of the other guys."

The boy nervously stepped through the door and gulped, looking at Sydney as if he was seeing an angel for the first time. . .or the only time.

"Baseball?" he nearly shouted, "M-me?"

"Ya," Sydney smiled, "You any good?"

The boy shook his head violently, "No!" he laughed, "-but-but I still want to come. Wait here. . .I'll go get my mitt! "

And he did. "He" ran all the way down his hallway, scooped a big ol' hat onto his head, grabbed his mitt, and ran out the door - slamming it behind him. So quickly did he storm out of the house, he nearly knocked Sydney to the ground. . .luckily they both stumbled backwards onto the sidewalk.

"Ah - sorry!" he exclaimed, but the smile just couldn't be wiped from his face. Sydney felt good about it all now. Who was it going to hurt?

"My name's Sydney - Syd, for all my friends," she said. The two of them began to walk down the road towards the Sandlot, "You can call me Syd, I'm sure we'll get along just fine. . .as long as you don't try anything stupid." She snapped.