| �Alright, this one�s gonna be faster than lightnin�!� Tren screamed at his batter, me, and then tossed the ball as hard as he could. I stood my ground, put my shoulders back and smacked the ball with my bat as hard as I could, hitting it high into the air. I shaded my eyes and looked up to see it go flying, smacking my lips as I chewed my Blastin� Black Cherry bubble gum. Chevette, who was in the outfield, looked to the sky, ran backwards and caught it in her glove like it was dropped right in front of her. She spun around in victory and then took the ball out of her glove. We looked at her, waiting for her to throw it back. She tossed the ball up into the air a few times and then returned it to Tren by throwing a pop up, landing it right in his glove. Saturday was a beautiful day to be out in our field and playing our favorite sport. The wind was barely blowing at it wasn�t hot enough to sweat unless you�d been playing hard. We had to work for it. A typical person living in Chicago would say that going to the museums was the best part of their beautiful city, but not us three. For as long as we could remember, we only had one thing on our minds, baseball. Each of us had tried out for every baseball team in the city, but none of them would take us and it wasn�t because we weren�t good. As far as that state, we were the best little leaguers there. Us three formed our own little clique; no one wanted us in theirs. Tren had his long black hair and never left his house without his high tops. He didn�t get in because his older brother was a loser. He tried out for little league when he was Tren�s age, but wussed out at every game. Tren never thought it was that. He thought he didn�t make a team because he was black. He was the oldest with a birthday in January but he was more than a brick short of a load. He was more like a brick short of� a brick. Sheila Yvette, or Chevette, never was able to try out for a team. She never went to any of the auditions. She was a new recruit to the team because she was kicked out of the prissy pom-squad clique. Tren and I hated all the syllables in her name so we called her Chevette. She didn�t really like it, but would do anything to fit into our gang. Our worst enemy was the squad. They were all blondes (dyed till it was stiff) and had to be a walking stick looking good in a short skirt. The only reason we let her in was because we felt sorry for her, but she need not know that. She played baseball only to show that she was one of us. She was good at it, but not as good as Tren and I. We rocked more than Korn! And then there�s me. I was the group leader. Though not much of a pitcher but good at shortstop, I was the youngest with an October birthday but the most headstrong. They wouldn�t take me because they said I was a �girl in denial�, but unless you got a good look at me, you wouldn�t know I was female. I had the shortest hair in the group. It wasn�t even below my ears and it was spiked and blonde. All three of us met every Saturday and never left our house without our baseball caps. Mine was black, Tren�s was red, and Chevette�s was green with a little picture of Woody Woodpecker on the brim. Over the summer with nothing to do, we found the old farm yard rundown by weeds and made it our own little stadium complete with a small set of bleachers and dugout. No one came to see us practice, but we didn�t mind. I always thought the lesser, the better. I spit my gum out in the grass; spit again in the dirt, rubbed it in with my sneaker, and got ready for the next pitch. I turned my baseball cap backwards and tightened my grip on my bat. His name was Whacko and he had a picture of the Animaniac on the handle. I know it seems childish to name a bat, but Whacko had put me through life. I got him when I four and he hasn�t left my side since! Narrowing my eyes at Tren he wound up and shot the ball at me once more, this time leaning into his throw and following through. I followed the ball with my eyes and never blinked, even when I had sweat on my eyelashes. Once again I smacked that leather and string mess into the outfield, over to Chevette and she let it fall into her glove after positioning herself under it. I�m glad it wasn�t alive or I�d be charged with BATtery! Oh shut up, you couldn�t think of anything better. Tren turned toward me with his mouth wide open. �You been practicin�?� He tilted his head to the left. I took my bat and hit my shoes to get the dirt off of them. �Nope, just born good.� The usual day at Myona High School for the usual freshman was 1. Climb the endless staircase just to get in the building with army backpack giving you sixty pounds of extra weight. 2. Get stuffed in a locker the size of an anorexic cheerleader by a junior and then getting detention for being late to first period and finally 3. Falling asleep in second period. Luckily for us, the invisible trio, no one noticed them enough to give us trouble. We know about our school�s name, Myona. Our school logo is �Myona High School, Fight For A Dream Come True!� It should be �Myona High School is Your Own �A High School!� Our mascot is stupid too. Our team is the Hawks, but our Mascot is a rock, a big rock that is in the courtyard. It just sits there. Wow, what a mascot! That�s sure to bring out school spirit, or motivation to do sculpting. A school down the street is named �Matthew Stone High� and I think our principal, Mr. Hertz should set up a meeting to discuss trading mascots. They have the Mongooses. Our football team hasn�t won a game since 1962, but we got to give our cheerleaders credit even if we don�t like them. They�ve got more pep than a sugar high five year-old. I think they sniff pixie stix before rallies. My second period Biology class was the worst I always thought. Mr. Conner is dense and can�t do two things at once. I think they have a name for that kind of person, �stupid�. I once asked him if I could go to the bathroom for a feminine emergency and it took him a while and a couple of explanations to figure out what I was talking about. Eugene Jackson was called to the office last Wednesday but they said Gene instead of Eugene so Mr. Conner wouldn�t let him go until he called the office to make sure it was he. I laughed on my way there wondering what we would learn from the village idiot next. The one thing I did like about second period was that Jack Crosse was in that class. I�d stare at him until my eyes turned red, never blinking once. When he caught me staring at him, I�d turn my head really fast and look the other direction. He didn�t have a clue I bet. �Okay class,� Mr. Conner said in his nasal, annoying voice. �Today we are going to learn about the nucleus of a cell, can anyone tell me where that is?� We all gave him a blank stare and then looked at the clock. A hyper girl stretched her arm out of its socket and waved it franticly. I couldn�t help but roll my eyes at her as everyone else did. I try to keep an open mind about people, but she made me slam the door of my mind shut. |