Anne Ramirez was the greatest girl in the grade.

She was nice and cute, with dark black hair that framed her light brown skin, and brown eyes that simply twinkled with life. Anne was small, but feisty. Intelligent, but awfully oblivious.

The girl was the greatest in all the grade, because she accepted John for whom he was: An underestimated maverick.

Sure, he was outrageously vain and naive, but still, he was kinder than most boys in their grade.
They loved tea parties. They loved tea. The duo loved playing with their barbie dolls and reenacting fairy tales. They shared a common interest for drawing, but most particularly, they loved to play baseball.

Anne through a pretty good ball, while John swung the bat like a champ. Her firm hand gripped the ball as she tossed it, a perfect pitch. Anne threw like a girl, because she was in fact a girl, and it was perfect.

Today, Anne, having invited John over for a playdate, tossed a baseball over to John as he readied himself with the bat.

He envisioned himself on the batting field, his feet digging into the muddy grass that was a girl’s front yard. His head was in tbatting box, eyes on the ball, like his brother had taught him.

Crack! The ball hit the bat, and John smirked, taking off and running to what he considered first base, then running a circle around Anne.

“And John Brown does it again! The crowd goes wild!” he proclaimed, sticking his tongue out at Anne.

“You're lucky we ain't playing on the little league field, or I’d have gotten you good.” Anne huffed and crossed her arms, holding the ball in her catcher's mitt.

John scoffed and stood back on the place they deemed home base, readying himself. The bat he held was a peach toned Louisville Slugger. It was carefully crafted and carefully weighted. This gave him perfect, precision hits. 

Anne wiped hair out of her face, closing her eyes and sighing. “Batter up!” she called out, making a pitch.

John, cocky and proud of his former success, swung the bat, but missed.

“Strrrike one!” she cried out, smirking. She'd been pitching all day, and , was desperate to bat. Just once.

John frowned, running a finger through his short brown hair. His fingers became a little greasy, as he had stuck unholy amounts of hair product into his hair.

Anne smiled at John's disorientation and pat the ball with her glove, before pitching once more.

He swung, and missed yet again.

“Strrrike two!” she cried out.

John grit his teeth, before readying his bat. Head low, eyes on the ball, his target, he prepared himself for her pitch. Once she pitched, John hit with all the force he had possible. It smashed through the window of the house across the street.

His house.

John dropped his bat, gaping at the sight. He was done for. Definetly. His lips quivered, and his eyes were as wide as the wheels on a truck.

“John.” Alyssa put her hands on her hips and nodded towards the window. “You broke your own window!” She was astonished at the sight and smirked. Her thoughts were jumbled with miscalculated thoughts about trajectory and such.

Whizzer gulped and ran a hand through his brown hair, filling his hands up with moisturizer, of which he had plenty of in his hair. “Oh no!”

His gut churned with fear an anxiety. His brother was home, and thankfully not one of his parents were there. Still, his brother would use any opportunity he could to get him into trouble, and not to mention- who else could've done it? Even if Alyssa had done something like that,his father would've taken his frustration out on him.

“My daddy's gonna kill me.” He gulped.

“What's the worst he's gonna do, huh? Take away your barbie dolls?” Anne scoffed and put a hand around his back.  She had walked over, in attempt to comfort her friend. “Actually...that's pretty scary. Barbie dolls are important.”

Anne had a lisp, and a great tendency to talk a lot. She was a leader in their class when it came to reading and mathematics, and thus, she liked to brag and ramble.

Anne was oblivious to John's situation at home, in her home, perhaps she'd get yelled at and grounded, if she had done such, but she didn't know John would get the life slapped out of him.

John didn't respond. He was too shocked at his own stupidity, to scared of getting injured by this man, considered his father.

Anne frowned once she saw that John wasn't responding, and pulled him inside, sitting him down by the Lego table. It was a small table,with white legs, and red top that simply had the Lego logo on it. “Did you bring Ken?” she inquired, setting her Mrs. Potts tea pot on the table.

John nodded silently and pulled out his Ken doll from his blue backpack, sitting it down in one of the red chairs that were made for their dolls. His hands were shaking as he did so, fear hanging in his chest.

It was only a matter of time before the phone rang, and when the landline rang, John was sure he'd be dead meat.

“Oh Ken! How nice of you to come over to my tea party!” Anne beamed, walking over her barbie doll. She wanted to get her friend's mind off the incident, so she would do their favorite thing, play with their barbies.

John feigned a smile and nodded  Ken’s head up down, lowering his voice to match Ken's. “I like tea a lot.” He had always figured a man's voice had to be deep, super deep. Like his father's.

The two enacted a tea party, trying to avoid the yelling and anger their parents would inflict upon them.

Thirty minutes later,  Mrs. Ramirez, loomed over the duo and frowned. Crossing her arms she tsked. “Anne. Why did John’s father just call me now and tell me a baseball broke his window?”

John gulped and fidgeted. Mrs. Ramirez treated him like he was sacred gold, and would never assume it was he, who hit a ball into his own window.

“Uh…” Anne looked down, about to say something before John interjected.

“It was me! I did it. I'm sorry.” He blabbered, not wanting his very much so innocent friend to get in trouble because he was too scared of the consequences.

“And you two couldn't tell me?” Mrs. Ramirez shook her head. It wasn't up to her to discipline her child and the child of another in the same fashion. “Anne. Go to your room. John,  come with me. I'm taking you home.

Mrs. Ramirez’s  voice was, in fact, very cold, and very calm. Unlike the voice of his father, which went from calm to angry real quick, he found this more scary. Since she was keeping her cool, he couldn't predict wether  or not she was going to hurt him.

As Anne scampered off to her room, a dejected look on her face, while John found himself shaking as he put his Ken doll into his backpack.

“Calm down, John.” Mrs. Ramirez tsked and adjusted her blouse. “You're not in trouble with me, at least.”

John gulped and nodded, pulling his backpack over his back and looked up at Mrs. Ramirez. “Sorry.”

“Save it for your father.” She sighed and took his hand, leading him out of the house. “Here I thought that godawful crash was the sound of my dishes.” Mrs. Ramirez chuckled. “Listen, next time something like that happens, tell me. I don't bite.”

“Really?”

“Mhmn.”

Johm nodded and put his other hand into his pocket, looking down at the ground. His father would murder him. That he was sure of. Still, he felt like he'd have rather gotten yelled at by Mrs. Ramirez. She didn't seem as scary or quick to temper as his father.

Mrs. Ramirez knocked on the door, and with sick smile on his face, John’s father opened the door.

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I don't think y'all know this yet, but I love angst and I can't wait for the next few chapters to come out, can you?

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