Wally - @Short Story

Wally - 6

Wally - 6

by sloanranger

By the time he got to the field there was already seven kids playing, enough for a good game. Morty was pitching - he was pretty good at it, too. Hank was catching for both sides so each team had a pitcher, an out-fielder and someone on first base.

Wally maneuvered between second and third base, playing shortstop. He played most positions well.

When his side got to bat it was Wally's turn and he connected with the second pitch so hard that it hit the back fence and he made third base. The 'stick' they were using for a bat had a good feel – made quite a thwack. It was an old piece of one by four, the wood weathered and worn thinner but with real heft.

It was Morty's stick, turned out. When darkness broke up the game, Hank put his ball into the bib of his overalls and took off at a jog. Wally walked over to the thirteen-year old. "Can I borrow your stick, Morty? Got something I want to hammer."

Morty just looked at him. "Hammer, huh?"

"Yeah," Wally said.

Morty handed him the stick. "Want it back tomorrow night," he smirked.

"Yeah, sure - thanks," he said, running towards home.

"And don't break it," Morty yelled.

When Wally came in Walt took one glance and put a finger to his lips, warning that their father was home.

"S'at you, Wally?" His dad called out.

Walt took the stick and hid it under the sofa while his brother went into the kitchen.

His father was rummaging around under a cabinet looking for tinned beans or anything else he could find.

"Yeah, Pop?"

"Sell all your papers, boy?" He said, still rummaging.

"Had to give the spot to an older guy, Pop."

His father looked up. "What do you mean, kid?"

Embarrassed, Wally avoided his father's gaze as well as the question.

His father stood, now. "Tell me."

"Big guy moved in, Pop."

"So what? You work with the Hebe, right – makes two of you."

His father grabbed him by the shoulder. "Right?"

Wally wrenched from his father's grasp. "It's Alf, Pop."

"Alf?" His father stepped back. Taking a well-worn handkerchief from his pocket, he made as if to blow his nose. "He's bad, that'un," he said.

After a time, "Don't know how you gonna manage, boy," he said, "but you got to get it back. Else get y'self another one."

His father hesitated, "Leastways, till I can get some shifts down at the factory."

"Yeah, Pop...sure."

"You recollect there was a can of pork and beans left from t'other day?"

"On the other side, Pop... some soup, too." Wally grabbed two cans and handed them to his father.

"They be hot in a minute – go tell the girls come and eat, an' you boys wash up."

"Right, Pop." He started for the door but turned. "Mrs. Mc Elroy said she'd be by with some macaroni and cheese, tonight."

His father smiled.

"Never thought I'd have a good thought for that woman but she's been real nice since ya' Mama passed."

Wally nodded and continued out the door. 

(To be continued).