"Where the 'ell is he? We gotta start. Those pansy bitches need some serious beating this Friday."

The heavy boy spat the cuss with no discomfort at all and then smeared a worried look at the long and empty lane with an anxious hope to see a familiar face.

"I'm gonna break that Jeremy's face, Dud. You'll see." Another boy snarled viciously as he punched his baseball mitt as if this so called "Jeremy" was hidden somewhere in his glove. He coughed a large spit ball and launched it into the air in a careless manner and it desolated itself on the shoes of another young kid with a long neck and moderated lips.

"Will you stop cussing, Harve? There's a Juny here." He prodded the mitt boy with a graveling tone and dispersed an examining look at the nearby 12 year old who stood there with his lame act of uncare even though he had heard every bit of curse and dialogue with ease.

"Yeah, yeah. " Agreed Harvey with no attention. "Give 'im a few weeks and he'd be teaching you new 'unes, Jackie." He laughed uncontrollably and the other boys who stood around him with their school clothes, dirty and deranged, joined without an invite.

At that very moment, an unnamed woman at the coffee shop was flipping through the page of some novel with serious agility, and an unease expression appeared on her face when she spotted a boy of 16, sprinting down the lane as his shirt lagged to follow him.

This was a clear and daily sight of every Wednesday afternoon and she understood that it was Wednesday from the same scene as she exhausted a sigh. Her name was not Helen, but she had grown familiar to it as everyone started to call her by that after a misunderstsanding at the local library.

She had seen the boy through the  'O' in the "Coffee" sticker on the glass and the boy was a persistent signature of her corrosive interaction with ordinary and daily things. She hated routine and more than that despised everyone who maintained it or were seen to follow a schedule in some way.

The mailman, the office clerk with the snotty voice and lastly the boy who ran after the 4:47 mark on every Wednesday with an excited smile and flapped clothes.

"Run, Forrest. Run !" Jackie yelled to spot the first sighting of the dangling shirt sleeve as he halted to pitch the ball. Everyone was set on their posts, in arched backs and the delay of the silhouette popped a smile on all's faces as the frown and questions came later.

"Where the 'ell have you been?" The shout came from the bolted helmet of the keeper and the answer appeared in the gaps of heavy grunts.

"Geography, Ken." The silhouette finally spoke as he faltered to the dirt then lobbed the bag to the pile.

"Fuckin' hell. George! That bastard!" Harvey lipped another curse as he casually spat on his glove and threw an extension to the other boy.

"Special grades . . . special . . . got a few. . ." The other boy huffed the air as he sat on his knee and cupped his mouth in discomfort.

"Damn grades, Frey. We gotta win this Friday, a'right?"

"I got money on this. Last 4 weeks lunch plus ciga--" The 12 year old had noticed the commotion and to his curiosity, trotted forward to meet the other boy himself. Harvey's curse stopped at the sight of the Juny then at Jackie who stood near with a dislocated frown.

"Plus book money." He caught a laugh then whispered to the vicinity. "We got the Palladium parlor if we beat those suckers."

The loud stomps of Clarance ended when he lobbed a bottle to the kneeling boy as he caught it instantly and drowned his dry throat.

"Hiya, Frey."

"Oh, damn C." He answered before Harvey shot another spit in his glove and walked away with the mumbling of his precious saved money.

"Geography, huh?"
"Torture "
"Couldn't have said it better."
"Well, let's start before Harve starts rambling about his miser days huh?" Poked the boy as he got up and roughed his mitt to a fix.

"Alright, Pansies. Godfrey's in. So if we want to beat those sissy sunflowers and especially if " Yelled Henry at the top of his lung and pointed to the Junies aggressively.

"If you fellas want to walk the school hall without being punked, you better play well."

"Goddamn it, Harve!"

The shout echoed to the dirt field and smashed onto the brick walled building as the voices became muddled with the kinks of sharp needled shoes, the flickering sounds of metal bats kissing the rapid leather lipped baseballs.

In conclusion, all the longing orchestra of a florescent childhood were played out in the cramped little block.

15 miles South of the ensemble of tender dreams in prose, the town limit was marked with a faded lime green billboard which was fighting the effects of time with the added disobedience of a tram line, routinely screeching a sharp whistle.

"Seinefield. The small town with a big heart."

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Book fact for Dummies:

 Because of an European community living in the middle of Seinefield, (in the present year 1997) commonly know as the 'Hindenburgh Square'; the characters of the books have picked up the slur and style of the European tone in their conversations.