Basics [A Sandlot Story]

3 || Satisfaction Brought it Back

The following morning, Ty stayed in bed as late as she could, mulling over the events of the previous day.

When they'd finally come home, Mrs Smalls had immediately ushered them into the kitchen, where she'd served dinner and forced them to participate in small talk that really grated on Ty's nerves. She especially disliked conversing with Bill, who, on-the-whole, tended to disregard her. This was fine - until her mother pushed them into conversation. If she hadn't before, Ty now knew the true meaning of the term 'awkward'.

When the plates were cleared and the dishes done, Ty had excused herself to her room, stopping by the bathroom to brush her teeth on the way. It was only eight o'clock, but she was going to scream if she'd had to spend anymore time with her so-called 'family'.

There was nothing else to be said.

She'd been rinsing the toothpaste from her mouth when she'd heard the hushed voice of her mother calling to Scotty from his bedroom door, and the accompanying whir of one of his contraptions shutting down so he could respond.

"Sweetheart, have you made any friends yet?" Mrs Smalls had asked. Ty could almost see his look of resigned sadness.

"No." He replied. Ty's heart clenched painfully, and she had moved to the doorway of the bathroom, pausing just inside it so she could hear more easily.

"Has Ty?" Their mother prodded. She felt the uncertainty in her little brother's voice as he responded.

"I don't think so." He'd wavered a little bit at the end, and Ty understood why. He was afraid that she'd make friends and move on without him - that she'd leave him behind. Abandonment was an old friend of hers, so she knew how heavy his chest must have felt, and how his stomach must have clenched at the thought of being alone.

She had wanted to round the corner and gather him up in her arms, and reassure him that no matter what, wherever they were, whoever they were with, she would never, ever leave him. But she had stayed still, sensing that if she interrupted this moment, nothing good would come of it.

"Why not, honey?" Ty could almost see Mrs Smalls sit on the edge of Scotty's bed, and she'd mentally cursed her for asking such a stupid, painful question.

"Because we're still new." He told her, but Ty knew what he didn't say. They were outcasts - Ty because she was too brash, and Scotty because he wasn't boyish enough. They were too weird for the other kids - that day had been testament enough.

Their mother said something else, but she couldn't hear what it was, because the older woman had lowered her voice to a near-whisper. She could hear, however, the aching reluctance in Scotty's voice as he had replied that he would try to make some friends tomorrow.

And then he'd asked about Bill - "I-I mean Dad." Scotty's voice was unsteady and uncomfortable. "D'you think he can teach me how to play catch?"

It's funny how one little sentence can do so much damage. Ty's vision had blurred, and she swiped at her cheeks, wiping away the hot, unexpected tears hurriedly. Scotty wanted to learn how to play sport.

And he didn't want her help.

On some level, she understood that it was something boys did with their fathers, and that Bill was as close to a father as the two of them had left - even if he was a good for nothing prat who never paid either of them any attention. But it didn't dull the hurt that stabbed at her stomach, accompanying the notion that she was as useless to her little brother as a pair of scissors were to a rock.