Painkilling Pariah » Yeah-Yeah

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The blazing sun was set high in the bright, clear blue sky. Not a cloud was in sight and the air was still. And, boy, was it hot! The concrete was scalding and everyone's feet burned in their shoes.

"I heard The Jet's back on the market," Charla's snobby friend Betty gossiped as she twirled her short black hair between her slender fingers. "Won't be surprised if he's off it again faster than Alan's heart beats when he sees you."

Charla's fair skinned cheeks blushed furiously. She shot Betty a bewildered look with her big hazel eyes. "Shhh!" she hushed. "We don't want anyone to overhear and actually think he likes me! He doesn't like me, and I don't like him. It's real simple. We're only friends. Nothing more, I swear."

The black haired girl smirked. "Nobody's even around, Charls," she rolled her blue eyes. "But you should try to give him a chance. Keep it a secret though, you know neither of your parents like the sandlot boys in general."

"He doesn't like me. I don't know why they don't like him, though. Ever since they knocked Old Man Mertle's fence down, they automatically had an excuse to hate those boys, even though they hated them already for a year prior. They're not too bad. A little problematic, sure, but at least they're not squares."

"Your parents like squares, genius," Betty reminded. "You think we can go by the sandlot and catch a glimpse of them? You know, they're starting to hit puberty - "

"Bethany Mitchell!" Charla shrieked. "My parents hear you talking like that and I'll be dead meat!"

"It's true," Betty shrugged nonchalantly. "Alan hit a growth spurt, if you haven't noticed. I mean, I'm sure you have, you notice everything about that boy -"

"No I don't! We're just friends," she blushed even more. "And no we can't go to the sandlot, my old man's on his lunch break so he's probably driving around town. If he catches me near those boys he'll have a cow."

"Oh, quit being such a pantywaist. You didn't even let me finish talking about how they changed," Betty remarked, standing up from the rocking chair she sat on on the shady porch. She cleared her throat as Charla groaned. "They all grew quite a bit, they're getting their Adam's apples, and their voices are getting deeper."

"Betty," Charla whined. "Let's talk about something else, please. I don't need to be thinking about them like that. I'm their friend at most, acquaintance at least."

"Fine," she sighed.

The girls continued talking about everything that came to mind, besides the sandlot group. They spoke up until the blazing orange sun dipped behind the dull, distant mountains, making the sky appear ablaze. Only a warm breeze blew through the valley and Betty walked to her house a couple blocks down. Mosquitoes swarmed the group of boys across the street as they swapped bike parts.

Charla sat on the sidewalk in front of her house and tugged on the scraggly grass growing between the warm concrete slabs. A smile tugged at her lips as she saw Yeah-Yeah nearing. He waved at her almost childishly and he had a puppy dog look on his face. The sweat that was dripping down his temples, his flushed face, and the dirt caked on his clothes were the only remnants of his day playing ball.

She grinned at him and took in his features. His face appeared golden because of the hues the sunset expelled. His hair was a bit messy, but still styled in a quiff for the most part. "Hey,Yeah-Yeah," she greeted as he sat down next to her.