She’s twelve.
He’s eighteen, her brother
She’s awkward, shy and unpretty
They’re there – his friends
His friends are gods!
Tall boys, black hair, blue eyes
One smiles
Her eyes dart to the pavement,
She pulls at her shirt.

Her brother calls to her,
The playing has stopped
She walks closer,
The ball’s been dropped,
But, he still has the bat.
Too late she sees the circle - she’s in.
He whips the bat at the back of her knees,
She moves forward but doesn’t fall,
The bat is light yellow, “faded by the sun”, she thinks as he raises it again.
This time she falls.
The gods laugh and one picks up the ball.

It’s her fault.
She takes the blame.
She’s the one who  -
interrupted  -
Their game.