The sound of tires on tar roared through the thin wall of trees that separated the highway from the baseball field. It had been around so many years that the dugouts were so rotted that it appeared as if they could fall to pieces if you even did as much as looked at them the wrong way, yet the little league insisted on continuing to use the field to play on, even though there were several other spots they could go to instead. Summer was on the brink and kids were growing anxious for school to let out, and many of them got much more daring with their bedtimes- they chose to stay out later than when the streetlights began to blink and flash in warning that night was close, and often fell asleep sometime around eleven.

The teams that played just then were the t-ball teams, and the parking lots were full of small children who clung tightly to their parents' arms, knees covered in dust. It took a while for everybody to clear out, but once they had, a teeny little boy emerged from the bush he had been hiding in for the past hour, skinny arms scraped from stray twigs. He tripped over a root and smashed his face against the dirt, but it hardly fazed him; he just stood back up and wiggled one of his front teeth curiously. It had been loose before, and his fall had just loosened it a bit more. Pretty soon, he might lose it, and then he'd get a couple quarters he could spend on candy! Letting out a hum, he brushed himself awkwardly and scurried across the gravel to the side of one of the dugouts, where he stood in wait.

Peering around the corner with his big eyes, he suddenly felt a sharp pain on his scalp, and he let out a yelp and shoved a hand in his overly-poofy curls, feeling around. Making a face upon finding it, he pinched the back of a small spider, who kicked its legs angrily when he pulled it out of his hair. Beavis let out a whimper of pain much as a boy his age would and he flung it to the ground, stamping his foot on top of it. Satisfied upon hearing a crunch, he reached back into his hair and rubbed the spot gently. He would forget about the bite minutes later.

A Ziploc bag poked out from the pockets of his shorts. He wore faded sneakers that were visibly several sizes too small, and his toes were so cramped that they always went numb when he wore them, and in order to get to the field he had to detour through the woods and wade through creeks, so the canvas was worn thin and ripped in many places. Since the last time he had tried to hop on the rocks through the brook he slipped and smashed his head pretty good, he chose just to swim through them (as he couldn't just walk; he was very, very small and his head would be under). By the time he finally would get to the fields, he would be soaking wet and freezing to the point of shivers, but it was worth it.

The scorching sun had dried most of it by now, and whatever was left of the dampness was going to have to stay, since twilight was here and the sun was resting on the horizon. Not sure when he was coming, little Beavis sat down in the gravel and picked at a scab on his knee he had earned when he fell down the steps of the trailer he lived in. He quietly shivered under the sun's dimming red light and felt the bag in his pocket. Hopefully he was still coming and didn't just lie to him like everybody else did. The blond boy told himself that if he didn't come by the time the fireflies came out then he was just gonna go home.

He continued to pick at his scab, but when he heard the sound of tires running over the rocks he shot his head up and hurriedly stood up, looking around the corner, practically shaking with excitement. He wanted nothing more than to sprint towards the blue truck that had just pulled in, but he almost forgot- look for the signal. Beavis twitched with hunger and kept switching the foot he had most of his weight on (though it wasn't much) in wait. Finally, with three flashes of the headlights, he was in the clear and shot across the lot like a firecracker, running to the driver's side door as he was too short to open the passenger's side.

"Dave!" he squeaked quietly, knowing he didn't like it when others knew they were there. The man inside gave him a small wave and motioned for Beavis to step back so he could get out. The blond did so eagerly and the man stepped outside.

"You have them on you?" Dave asked as he went to reach behind his seat.

"Yep!" Beavis cried out, pulling the plastic bag that was about a sixth full with pills. Dave gave him a nod of approval and B childishly balled his fists at his jaw and shook excitedly, letting out a giggle. Dave let out a chuckle at Beavis's thrill and pulled out a blue grocery bag, getting down on a knee so he could be nearly as tall as the boy.

He took the Ziploc from the blond and in turn gave him his bag, which Beavis practically swiped out of his hands, drool collecting at the corners of his mouth. Dave looked at Beavis's crinkly Ziploc and scrunched his eyebrows.

"Beavis, you didn't separate the pills?" was all he said, and he hadn't realized he'd said it in such a stern tone he had until the boy's smile fell off of his face and he began to blubber into tears, holding a shaky, weak arm out with the bag of food in his hands. Dave was confused for a minute but then realized how that could've came off and placed a pitying hand on the tiny shoulder.

"No, no, you can keep it! You can keep it!" He took a finger and wiped under Beavis's eye, which were probably the biggest he had ever seen on a child. "I wasn't gonna take it away from you; I just was surprised you didn't use two bags like you usually do. That's fine though, I can separate them."

The blond nodded and held the bag close to his chest. He didn't want to be rude by ending the conversation so early but he felt hunger reaching up his throat and pulling at his tongue. "Thanks Dave."

Dave rustled the curly mop of hair on top of his head and stood up, pocketing the pills. "Anytime. You gonna meet me here again tomorrow?" When Beavis nodded, Dave nodded back, getting back into his truck and pulling the door shut. Unsure if he was free to go, the blond let out a bemused giggle, taking a step backwards, trying to hold himself back from digging right into the bag in front of him. Dave began to roll up his window, but then let out a "oh" and rolled it back down. The blond stuck his chin up to be able to see him.

"Oh yeah, I meant to tell you, I put a Kool-Aid packet in there for you. As a treat."

The blond dropped the bag into the gravel, and dust clouds blew up and slowly floated away in the wind as he dug inside and pulled out a curious blue rectangle. He shifted the packet and it made a rustling noise as the sugar moved from one corner to the other, and he tilted his head at the man. "What is it?"

"It's powder. You've never seen commercials for Kool-Aid?"

Beavis shook his head. "No. I don't have cable." He shook the packet. "It's powder? Am I supposed to smell it like Mama does?"

Dave's eyes practically popped out of his head. "No! No, no, no, Beavis, you don't snort that, you pour it into the water bottle and shake it. It'll make it taste like fruit punch."

Beavis let out an "ohhhh" and stuck it back in the bag. Dave could tell that the little thing was so hungry that he was shaking, and he gave a sad, sympathetic wave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Bye, Dave!" Beavis called, waving at him. He didn't even wait for Dave to pull all the way out of the lot and slung the bag over his shoulder and ran into the woods (so he wouldn't get hit; he had been struck by a car once already in his life and knew that it didn't feel too good) and came back out once he was clear from the truck, and rushed across the gravel into the two-story building between the dugouts that the announcers stayed inside. Climbing the crumbling stairs to the top, he dodged a couple holes in the floor, pulled himself up on top of one of the office chairs, and sat in front of the window, setting the bag down and tearing inside it. He was starving; usually, the only time he ever got to eat was when he made the trade with Dave every night. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he'd find a stray Burger World bag on the side of the road that would have a little bit of fries and a half eaten burger inside. When he was super lucky, there was a cup full of mostly melted ice inside too, with just a little bit of cola left.

Since he was always hungry, Dave always gave him two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a Ziploc full to the brim with potato chips, a Twinkie or Swiss Roll, and a bottle of water. This time around, he was generous enough to give him a packet of tropical punch mix, too. But he'd figure out how to use that later.

His fingers were shaking so much he could hardly open the seal on the bag to get the sandwich out, but when he did, he about shoved half of it in his mouth at once. He was super thankful to finally be eating, and tears of relief welled in his eyes. They never fell; they just collected there and made a thin film over his big blue eyes.

He watched the setting sun out of the window and peered down at the field. If he squinted hard enough, he could make out the patterns the cleats of the kids who had played there earlier had left behind. His eyesight was never very good.

"Hey...!"

The poor little boy nearly fell out of the window in surprise at the voice behind him. He trembled in fear and turned around, quickly gathering his food together and placing it back into his bag, shuffling anxiously to the farthest corner. The voice wasn't of an adult's and sounded like another boy's, but was rather deep to be someone his age. Oh, I really hope that ain't a fifth grader... he thought as he rubbed his eyes hard to try and get the blurry film that was on it off. He had been so shocked by the sudden noise that his eyesight messed up temporarily. That happened anytime he got frightened. He lived in constant fear of ten year olds- they'd chase him down after finding him playing in the desert by himself, and liked to pick him up by his hair and give him bad indian burns and throw rocks at his stomach and mock him when he cried since it hurt terribly. And if the person standing in front of his only exit was a fifth grader, he was about to be beat up pretty bad.

He pressed the bag in between the wall and him, and his vision was finally coming to. He squinted at the boy, who was illuminated a bright maroon from the sun. His skin was glittery with sweat, pieces of his fringe had been loosened from the gel that kept his hair slicked back and hung lazily in his face, he was wearing the same baseball uniform the boys playing earlier were wearing, and had a dusty wooden baseball bat at his side. He appeared to be squinting at Beavis too, and his mouth was seemingly hanging open. However, when he had yelled at Beavis, he had sounded almost unsure, as if he falsified the confidence he barked at the blond with. Being as he was still standing there staring at him and had shifted so one of his feet was behind the other, he probably wasn't a fifth grader, or at the very least, a threat.

Beavis still sat shoved up in the corner for another minute, watching the boy with the sweaty chestnut hair, until he reached inside his bag and pulled out the packet and water bottle.

Don't talk to strangers! the voice in the back of his skull screamed at him. But he didn't care.

Holding it out shakily, he squeaked, "Do you know how'ta use Kool-Aid...?"

The other boy gave him a funny look and remained in the doorway. "What?"

"Y'know... a Kool-Aid packet? I have one but I dunno how to use it..." Beavis felt less and less threatened and slowly uncurled himself, eventually sitting normally with the bag at his side. He felt dirt particles and tiny pebbles from the gravel outside gently jab into the underside of his thigh. The boy began to walk towards him, dragging the bat at his side. It was about three quarters of his height.

"What? Yeah. I do." At first, Beavis thought that he was going to help him, and leant further out so he could grab the bottle and packet, but almost as if the boy had forgot the act he was putting on, he stopped and stuck his nose in the air, crossing his arms with the bat still in his grip. "Uh, but what I wanna know is why you're up here!"

Beavis's mouth hung open in confusion as he stared at the other, who added a, "Um, yeah." at the end of his sentence. Before he could answer, the boy took a couple steps closer, but they were insecure. His arms clumsily fell to his sides, the bat knocking against the decaying tile.

"I saw ya hidin' in that bush the whole game. I saw ya go up to that guy, too. What did ya even give him, anyway?" His face had softened and he seemed genuinely curious, but his voice still had that stiff, 'I'm-in-charge' sort of sound to it. Part of that frightened itty Beavis, but being as the boy had stepped away from the doorway, should he prove to be a threat he could probably split and escape and be in the woods already before he could catch up. His knees shook with weakness as he stood up.

"Um... those were my pills." He kept his eyes on the boy as he grabbed the bag of food and carefully moved back over to the window and sat like he had before. He finished off the first sandwich and shoved the empty bag back in the larger one.

"Pills? For what? Like, headaches and stuff?" He had lost that big demeanor he carried and moved over and sat in the other crusty office chair next to Beavis, who was rummaging around for the other sandwich.

Beavis wasn't sure if he should've been telling the boy all that stuff, but after all, he had seen him and Dave trade and he had no idea who he was, so there was really no harm. The chestnut haired boy wiped his forehead off with the back of his hand and wiped it on his pants, gently setting his bat on the ground.

"No... I um, I hear voices in my head and the medicine makes them quiet, and I also sometimes have cea... cea-zurrs... caesars..." He struggled with the mouthful of words. "That's what I take them for."

"So you really, really need them?"

"Yep!"

"So why did you give them to that guy?"

Beavis finally found his sandwich and pulled it out, but glanced over at the boy whose name he still had no idea, and remembered he had been playing baseball all that time.

"Aren't you hungry?" Beavis squeaked, tilting his head a bit. The boy's eyes naturally appeared as if they were squinted, but he squinted them a bit more and scratched his cheek.

"Umm... I guess; a little."

Mindlessly, the blond held out the sandwich for the boy to take. The older of the two wasn't sure of what to do for a second, but he finally reached out to take it wordlessly, but stopped himself upon hearing the small boy's stomach rumble pretty loudly. He looked down at the blond, who appeared to be dangerously skinny, and remembered how excited he had been to get that bag of food when he had been watching him from behind the dugouts. Leaning back and putting a polite hand up, he shook his head lightly.

"No thanks. I'm probably gonna be eating dinner as soon as my Mama picks me up."

Beavis shrugged and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, a smile wide across his face. Sandwich hanging out of his mouth as he made eye contact with the boy, who just watched him, he let out a happy laugh. He wasn't sure why, but he liked this kid .

The boy gave him a half smile before looking out the paneless window, watching for his mother. Beavis finally managed to swallow what he had in his mouth and grabbed the Kool-Aid packet and bottle and quietly pushed it over to him, trying to convey that he wanted him to help him. "Why are you still here?"

The boy looked over and saw the bottle and understood, shaking the packet. "She works three jobs. She's a nurse at an office and works until 8, so she can never come to any of my games." He let out a sigh and looked saddened, unscrewing the cap off of the bottle. Beavis polished off the other sandwich and began to start on the chips.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Beavis counted on his fingers, not exactly sure how you counted with said fingers, but was pretty sure the other boy might've messed something up. "What's her other job? Isn't that just two?"

The brunet puffed his cheeks out a little, tilting his head towards his neck, mumbling stiffly, "Mama says I ain't allowed to tell nobody."

Beavis swallowed some of the chips and twiddled his thumbs for a minute, not sure what to say. The boy had managed to pour almost all of the packet in the water and shook the bottle, pushing it back over. Beavis took it and gave the boy a smile. "I'm usually here. I'll watch your games."

The other looked as if Beavis had just pulled his hair apart and showed him a third eye. "Huh? Why would you want to watch my games?"

"Because," he took a sip of the punch and screwed the cap on, some of the undissolved sugar gathering in his cheeks, "I know how it feels to not really have anybody. My Mama's always at the bars and I'm by myself all day and night. I'm kinda lonely. And I'm here anyways, so I'd love to watch you play ball."

The boy looked almost as if he was going to cry. "You'd do that? But you don't know me!"

"I do now!" Beavis wiped the salt and grease on his pants, remembering that one of his mom's boyfriends had explained that when you meet somebody, you shake their hand. He held out his hand shyly and gave him a smile. "I'm Beavis."

The boy reached out and took his hand, which was much smaller than his. "I'm, uh... Butthead." Immediately, Beavis guffawed, to which Butthead couldn't help but smile at. This kid laughed at everything.

"That's not your real name!" Beavis plunged his hand back into his bag and shoveled chips in his mouth. His stomach still felt super empty.

"I know it's not my real name; I like'ta use it though because it's a lot nicer than what all the other kids usually call me. Makes it sting less." He had stopped looking out the window for his mom.

"What do they usually call you?"

"You look too little for me to tell you."

Beavis flared his cheeks in a pout, crossing his arms. People always thought he was four. He was five, thank you very much; that's pretty big.

"Five? And your mama just lets you walk around by yourself?"

"Yep! How old are you, Butthead?"

The arrogant aura he let off earlier came back and he grinned, sticking his (rather large, Beavis noted) nose into the air. "I'm 6, but in October, I'm gonna be 7, which means I can move up a 'difission'. I won't have to play with the tee anymore."

Beavis nodded, showing that he was listening as he crinkled up the now empty bag and reached for the swiss rolls. Seven? He was pretty tall for seven. But that was fine. He looked like one of the fifth graders, which was probably good for him, because that meant they probably thought he was one of them and spared him indian burns on his arms and bruises on his belly.

"Although, Mama and the teachers said they don't think I learned enough this year, so they're gonna hold me back. I'm gonna have to redo the first grade and I'm really mad." He hopped off of the chair and moved over, kicking one of the rocks far across the room, and it skidded, hit the wall, and bounced to the middle of the tile. He threw his arms in front of his chest. "I mean... I don't know. Maybe I should just drop out of it while I'm ahead."

Beavis swallowed suddenly and grew excited. "Oh are you? What school do you go to?"

Butthead didn't turn around, head hung. "Highland."

Beavis let out a squeal, which had startled the other enough to make him turn around. "So do I! I hope we're in the same class! Then we can be friends!" Butthead just looked at him, his mouth slightly open. "I mean, we can be friends now anyway. But if we're in the same class, we can reeeeeally be friends!" Quietly, Beavis added under his breath, "I've never had a friend before."

Butthead didn't get a chance to answer, because they both had heard the sound of somebody outside. The older boy walked up to the window and looked out, and lit up at the sight of a car down below. He looked over at Beavis. "My Mama's here; I have to go now."

Disappointed, but not wanting to show it, Beavis nodded and tossed the final wrapper into the Walmart bag. "I should probably start goin' home now, too. Mama's gonna be going to work soon an' she gets mad when I ain't home before she can tuck me in and have me say my prayers, cause when she ain't home, I just don't do it."

Butthead picked up his bat. "Where does your Mama work?"

Beavis slung the back into his elbow and carefully slid off of his chair. "Um, she told me to tell people that she works as a 'farmalist' at CVS."

It was painfully obvious that the little boy was lying, and Butthead had a gut feeling that his mom did the same thing his did.

Guiding the other boy across the room to make sure he didn't fall through any of the holes he was lucky he missed when he crossed before, Beavis led him outside, throwing the bag of trash away, save for the bottle. Butthead swung his bat over his shoulder and looked at the other one for a minute, who peered back with this toothy smile on his face, perky blond hair not budging in the cool night wind.

"So, uh, I'll see you here again sometime. Promise you'll watch my games...?" Butthead was growing a bit cold, and Beavis's clothes were visibly wet, so he had to be freezing. He didn't seem to notice the chill, though, because he was still staring up at him with this huge grin on his face.

"I wouldn't think of missin' 'em, Butthead." Beavis let out a giggle again at the boy's name. Butthead. He wondered what his real name was and if he'd ever find out.

Butthead smiled at the smaller boy and awkwardly waved. "Um, bye, Beav-"

He cut himself off when the blond threw his arms around him and squeezed him tightly, some of the water dampening his baseball uniform. Beavis didn't let go, and he sheepishly hugged him goodbye too, realizing that he was probably the first person outside of his usual daily routine that he got to have a genuine conversation with. The itty boy let go, waving.

"Bye, Butthead!" He cried out, looking over at one of the lights that lit up the parking lot and taking note that it began to blink on. The woods were dark; he'd better head home.

He gave the older boy one last smile before scurrying into the woods again, the ground dark and the sound of the cicadas screeching in the trees serving as the backdrop of his trip home. The water bottle of Kool-Aid was tucked under his arm, careful not to drop it.

Butthead stood there, looking into the woods in search of the boy, but he was already deep in. The noises of the creek were very faint, but there, and he heard splashing that was quieted by the distance as the blond made his way across. What a curious child he was. A smile beginning to spread across his face, Butthead turned around and began to walk to his mom's car.

He had a feeling he was going to like this boy.