It was early summer during sixth grade, and the sandlot was starting off with less grass than ever before. The valley was suffering a drought, the last rain having been back in March, and everywhere they looked it was brown and brown and more brown, all dreary and sick looking against the bright blue summer sky.
Still, nothing could keep Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez away from baseball. Every Saturday morning before it got hot, neighbors could hear the crack of the bat, the shouts of the kids and – a new addition this year – the encouraging barks of the team's new mascot, sitting proudly on the sidelines in his jersey and waiting eagerly for any foul ball to chase after.
Scotty figured Mr. Mertle was okay with them sorta kidnapping his dog, since the man now kept a big ice chest on his back porch that was always stocked with sodas and popsicles. Sometimes he made them sandwiches, and even Benny was willing to take a break for those.
But it wasn't summer yet, not technically anyways, so the boys all trudged to school together and suffered through the long hours, when even the stuffiest old teachers stopped caring and everyone just wanted to be out by the pool, but the school board wouldn't let them.
That year Benny, Scotty and Squints were all stuck in Miss Wallace's class – the oldest, meanest teacher in the whole school. She assigned all the even math problems just so they couldn't copy the answers from the back of their textbook. You so much as sneezed during one of her pop quizzes, and you might as well kiss a whole letter grade goodbye.
Benny was currently staring out the window, oblivious to the massive spitball Squints was preparing. Miss Wallace was droning on and on about improper fractions, but Scotty had already finished the homework for this chapter so he quit paying any attention long ago. Now he was watching his friends with a grin – Squints was sure to get busted, nobody ever got anything past Miss Wallace, but boy it sure would be worth it, to see Benny's face.
Squints had no sooner put the straw to his lips when the classroom door opened, and Principal Williams walked in, with his hand on the shoulder of a girl their age.
"Miss Wallace, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said. His bald head glistened with sweat. Scotty couldn't help but feel sorry for the new girl; Principal Williams had notoriously clammy hands, something that made Scotty almost wish he could get all C's just so he wouldn't have to shake the man's hand along with all the other honor roll students at the end of every grading period.
"Not at all, Principal Williams." Just like that, Miss Wallace was all smiles. Benny rolled his eyes dramatically, and Scotty and Squints had to muffle their snickering. "Who is this lovely young lady?"
"This is Dorothy Malone. She's finishing up the sixth grade, and I think she'll fit right in in your class."
"Of course," Miss Wallace simpered, and hooked her bony fingers around Dorothy's other shoulder. "We'll make sure to help her feel welcome."
"I have no doubt. Class," Principal Williams nodded to them all, and then he was gone. Miss Wallace didn't release Dorothy, and gave the room her best glare.
"Class, I expect you all to be very kind and friendly to Miss Malone. Now, Dorothy, there's an empty seat back there behind Mr. Palledorous – Michael, raise your hand, please – and I'll find you a textbook during recess. Did you cover improper fractions at your old school?"
Dorothy nodded meekly as she slipped down the aisle. When she got close enough Scotty could see that there wasn't a spot of dirt to be found on her yellow dress, and she was wearing shiny white shoes with frilly socks. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a white bow that lay crooked on her head.
Her eyes were carefully avoiding everyone's blatant staring, and Scotty felt a little bad for her when she took her seat and hunched down behind Squints. Clearly she didn't like being the center of attention, the way every new kid is when they're introduced to a room full of peers who already have lunch buddies and teams picked for recess.
Scotty glanced over at Benny, who looked no more curious than the rest of them, but when he caught Scotty's eye he seemed to understand, and nodded quickly.
As soon as the bell rang for recess, Scotty approached her.
"H-hey."
Warily, she looked up at him. She picked at a loose thread in the hem of her dress. "Hi."
"Uh…it's Dorothy, right?"
"Dot," she corrected softly. "I like to be called Dot."
"Okay. Uh, Dot." He looked over by the door – Benny and Squints were waiting, looking only mildly impatient. "Do you wanna sit with us?"
Her brow furrowed. "You sit during recess?"
He flushed. "Well. Well, no, not really. We usually play baseball. But you're…." He gestured half-heartedly to her clean dress and white shoes, and almost missed the irritated glance she gave her clothes.
"You guys don't have to sit out just for me. I can watch."
"Oh, well, we – "
"I can watch," she insisted. "What's your name?"
"Scotty Smalls."
She stuck her hand out – her nails were all chewed up and covered in glitter nail polish. "Dot Malone. Let's go see if you guys are any good."
That was how it first started – she didn't say much, just answered whatever lame questions Scotty could think to ask her. Ham teased him mercilessly about his girlfriend, but once did so within Dot's hearing and after the glare she sent his way not another word was uttered on the subject.
The rest of them just sort of…tolerated her. They seemed to understand that letting her tag along and watch their games was the nice, decent thing to do, was in fact something that Scotty would have appreciated at the close of the previous school year, so they never complained. They always said hello, and Benny even started carrying out a chair so she wouldn't get her nice dresses dirty sitting on the grass.
But they didn't really include her either, until one afternoon, just three days before school let out. Phillips and his goons started trash talking Benny, trying to pick a fight and land them all in a heap of trouble. It wasn't until Ham's last few innings – in which he'd struck out more often than not – were mentioned that Dot spoke up for the first time.
"Yeah, Porter probably learned to swing a bat from his mommy," Phillips mocked. "You hit, what, three out of ten last game?"
Ham's jaw tightened, but before Benny could say one word in his defense, a lighter voice sounded from behind him.
"Actually, he batted a 0.667. You barely scraped by with a 0.544, so I don't think you're the one to start slingin' mud, pretty boy."
Every head turned to stare at Dot, who stood in her periwinkle dress with the eyelet trim and her white shoes and frilly socks and her hands planted on her hips, a scowl on her face and quite suddenly, Scotty realized that Dot didn't just watch baseball because they'd invited her.
"Who's the dollface?" Phillips sneered.
"I'm Dot," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And I don't appreciate you messing with my friends, so you either shut up or I'll tell all the girls I saw you picking your nose during the Pledge of Allegiance."
Even Benny snickered at that, and when Phillips stomped away furiously, the rest of them just kept staring at their self-imposed team member.
"Where'd you learn to do batting averages?"
"And how'd you do math in your head?"
"Did Ham really bat a 0.667?"
"Did Phillips really pick his nose?"
"I bet he ate it."
"Nah, he's probably a flicker."
"What are you guys, stupid? He probably wiped it on the seat in front of him. It'll be all crusty and dried now, though."
Dot just watched them all, looking confused but just a little fond, when Benny stepped forward.
"You like to watch baseball, don't you?"
She nodded. "I used to watch it all the time, with my dad back in New York."
"You're from New York?" Scotty blurted.
She smiled for the first time. "Yeah."
Benny took a couple steps closer. "Okay, Dot. Big question – Mets or Yankees?"
"Yankees." She didn't hesitate, and everyone nodded approvingly.
"You know who Babe Ruth is?"
The smile dropped right off her face, giving way to an insulted expression. "What kind of person doesn't know who Babe Ruth is?"
Ham elbowed Scotty pointedly, who blushed and shrugged.
Dot stared at him. "You didn't know – "
"I never played baseball before."
She eyed him. "Well, thank heavens you found these clowns."
To Scotty's surprise, even he was able to chuckle at that.
"You wanna come by the sandlot this Saturday?" Benny said suddenly.
She squinted. "What's the sandlot?"
"It's where we play ball during the summer," Benny explained. He didn't see the dumbfounded, horrified expressions the other boys were giving him.
Dot did, though, and her face fell. "Oh…well, that's okay. I don't want to get in the way."
And without another word, she turned around and walked back up the hill towards the school.
Benny frowned and started to go after her, but Ham grabbed his arm. "Benny, what're you thinking? We can't invite some dame to the sandlot!"
Dot's shoulders stiffened at Ham's loud tone. Scotty winced.
"Why not?" Benny demanded, only to be rewarded with cries of outrage.
"What do you mean, why not?"
"It's our sanctuary!"
"She'd probably bring flowers or somethin' for the tree fort!"
"Or worse, she'd make us paint it pink."
"The dugout wouldn't smell right anymore – like perfume and that weird leaf stuff my mom puts around the house – pour-poo-ree."
"Enough!" Benny finally yelled. "So what if she wears dresses? She knows baseball. And you'd think after she just defended you to Phillips you'd be a little more grateful," he shot at Ham, who looked a little shamefaced, but not completely convinced.
"But Benny – "
"Don't but Benny me. What if we hadn't let Smalls in?"
"Actually, this is worse than not letting me in," Scotty ventured. "She at least knows a little bit about baseball."
Nobody had much of anything to say to that.
"Let's just invite her to watch, okay? She ain't gonna take over, she just needs us to be nice. Can you blockheads do that?" Benny glared at them all.
Now all a good bit more ashamed than they had been to start, the group nodded grudgingly and mumbled under their breaths as they made their way back inside.
By the time Scotty, Benny and Squints got back to their classroom, Dot was already in her seat, drawing and carefully ignoring them both. Scotty felt bad, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. Ham wasn't mean-spirited, but he could come across a bit harsh every so often and it always made things awfully sticky to patch up.
Benny apparently didn't care much if she was ignoring him or not. He plopped into the empty seat right in front of her – Squints' – and twisted around so he could rest his arms on her desk.
"Hey."
She raised her eyebrows, but kept drawing.
Scotty felt even worse. "Dot, c'mon. They didn't mean it. Honest."
She glanced up at him.
"You've all been very nice to me," she said quietly. "But the sandlot is where you all spend time during the summer and I don't want to ruin that."
"But we could really use your help!" Benny protested.
She scoffed. "How so?"
"I've watched you – you pay attention to positions, you probably have stats memorized for all of us. Am I wrong?"
Dot stared at him, blushing slightly. "I don't – "
"C'mon, Malone," pleaded Scotty.
Benny turned around and gave Squints the stink-eye.
"Uh, yeah…we could really use some, uh….input."
Scotty winced. Benny rolled his eyes, but looked hopefully at Dot anyway.
"Please?"
Scotty had never seen Benny imitate a puppy before, but it worked – Dot rolled her eyes, huffed, and mumbled "Fine" under her breath, but when Benny grinned at her and went to his own seat, a tiny smile turned up one corner of her mouth, and Scotty knew she was going to love the sandlot.
/
Benny was thrilled.
Their little rag-tag team had all the positions covered, but one thing they didn't have was someone to keep stats. He himself knew his own batting average, but since he was always playing, it made it hard sometimes to keep track of everyone's weak spots.
Dot didn't show that Saturday morning, though, and he worried the inside of his cheek for a minute or two before deciding that he wasn't going to waste good daylight when he could be playing baseball, and Dot could just come when she felt like it.
They were still warming up when Smalls grinned, and he pointed over Benny's shoulder.
Dot was wearing overall shorts and a red t-shirt, dirty sneakers and a Yankees cap. Benny couldn't help but feel relieved – if she'd shown up in one of her pretty dresses, the guys would've had an even harder time accepting her. As it was, Ham still skulked in the back of the group until Benny shoved him forward with a glare.
Ham grumbled and scuffed his feet, but Dot stood patiently without any trace of bitterness as he gave a very weak apology, one that made even Denunez wince. Dot just nodded and thanked him, and moved to the make-shift dugout.
Something told him he ought to go say hello, but her back was too him and then everyone was waiting for him to start play; she turned at the last second and gave a feeble wave, and he just nodded shortly and trotted back to home plate.
"I dunno about this, man." Denunez shook his head.
"Trust me. Maybe she can't play, but she knows how the game works. She's exactly what we need."
"If you say so," he muttered. Benny stretched, noticing the irritated glares the others were sending Dot's way, and also how she seemed to be ignoring all of them. He tried not to worry, and turned his attention to the first pitch.
Before long he was in the rhythm of the game, aiming his shots to certain parts of the outfield to give the others some practice. It wasn't until Mr. Mertle called them from his back porch that they took a break, and by then it was lunch time. Benny's shirt was drenched in sweat and he was really hoping their neighbor had some sandwiches, but when he reached the porch steps Scotty elbowed him.
"What?"
"Dot."
Benny looked back; sure enough, Dot was still sitting in the dugout. He winced. The boys' reactions today and earlier at school had really done their damage. He sighed and ran over.
"Hey."
She looked up from where the toe of her sneaker was dragging idly through the dirt. Her hair was a little messier than it had been to start, and she looked hot and tired, but she smiled just the same. "Hi."
"Mr. Mertle's got lunch for us. Sandwiches and pop and stuff."
Dot looked skeptical, and glanced behind him towards the others. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Look, they don't like changing things around here. It took them ages to get used to Smalls. Just give 'em time."
She nodded slowly, and got up to follow him. When they reached the steps again, Mr. Mertle paused in handing Yeah-Yeah his soda.
"Who's your friend, Benny?"
Something about the way he asked it made Benny want to squirm, but with as much nagging as he'd done for the boys not to hurt Dot's feelings, he had to practice what he preached.
So, he gestured with one hand and said, "This is Dot Malone. She's gonna keep stats for us."
"That so?" Mr. Mertle raised his eyebrows, and moved a stack of old magazines off a rickety lawn chair. "Have a seat, little missy. You like grape or cherry soda?"
"Cherry, please." Dot crossed her ankles under her chair and spread her allotted paper towel across her lap. Ham and Bertram watched in blatant disgust.
For several minutes, no one said anything. Benny had run out of ways to make the boys talk to her, and he wasn't sure how he could do it nonverbally without hitting somebody. Then –
"So, Dot, how'd you come to know baseball?"
Benny shot Mr. Mertle a grateful look. The old man winked subtly at him.
Dot swallowed her bite of sandwich. "My dad taught me. He used to take me to Yankees games."
"Yankees, huh?"
"Hey, Mr. Mertle?" Yeah-Yeah frowned. "How come Dot's the only one who gets a chair?"
Benny closed his eyes; Dot looked around as though just now noticing that all the boys were sitting on the porch floor. He saw the pink spread across her cheeks, and wished he were sitting close enough to Yeah-Yeah to thump in the ear.
"You go asking questions like that, son, and I'll start to think you don't have any manners." Mr. Mertle chuckled. He handed Squints another soda.
Benny was just beginning to wonder if they might quit playing early today, it was so awkward and obvious they didn't want Dot there, when Hercules appeared from his doghouse.
Dot's handful of potato chips froze halfway to her mouth; her eyes were so big they looked as though they'd bust out of her skull, but when Hercules came up the porch steps and started sniffing them all hello, Benny was relieved when she didn't tense up or shy away.
Hercules eventually noticed the newcomer, and immediately made his way over to her. With his size, his snout was exactly eye-level with Dot in her chair, and the boys all watched to see if she'd squeal yuck or cry or something.
Hercules snuffled her hair, and his big pink tongue left shining trails all over her face. To everyone's surprise, she giggled.
"That's Hercules," Mr. Mertle, sounding as pleased as Benny felt. "He likes you, seems."
"I like dogs," Dot said quietly. She put her plate down and used both hands to rub Hercules' ears. The dog sat back on his haunches, closed his eyes and enjoyed the royal treatment.
Yeah-Yeah looked profoundly disappointed, as if he'd hoped Hercules would chase her away, but Dot was smiling bigger than Benny had ever seen her before.
"He usually scares people off with his breath," Smalls offered timidly. Dot just shrugged.
"No worse than any other dog."
She moved to scratch under his chin. One meaty hind leg began to thump on the floorboards.
"He likes baseball," Benny finally said. Dot's grin got even bigger.
"Course he does. He's a smart dog."
"Careful now," Mr. Mertle warned. "Some folks say he's real vicious. Almost beast-like."
Squints frowned, but even Ham and Yeah-Yeah elbowed him at the joke. Dot just looked at Benny, puzzled. He grinned.
"Long story. I'll tell you later."
The team seemed to be slightly less frosty towards Dot as lunch progressed, and when they said their thank-yous and went back out to play, Ham pulled Benny aside at the plate.
"Guess she ain't so bad, Benny," he conceded. "Any girl who lets a dog slobber all over her like that can't be too much of a priss."
It was a far cry from the friendliness Benny knew Dot probably was craving, but it was a start. He'd take small victories whenever they came.
"Glad to hear it, Ham. Let's play."
Dot didn't go back to the dugout after lunch; instead she stood far beyond the outfield, watching closely. The boys mostly ignored her, which was largely due to the fact that she was never in their way. Benny noticed more than once she knew where a runner or outfielder was going before they got there, and always stepped in the opposite direction so she wouldn't interfere with the play.
He grinned to himself. This girl knew baseball inside and out, just like him. He couldn't wait to talk to her after.
All too soon, the sun started its descent, and they all turned to head home. Benny as usual was the last one to gather his glove and bat, and he saw Dot heading towards the gate.
"Hey, Dot!"
She waited for him, looking confused.
"What's the point in you keeping stats if you ain't gonna tell me what they are?"
She stared.
"You mean you actually wanted me to help?"
Now it was Benny's turn to be confused. "Well…yeah. That's why I asked you to come, isn't it?"
Dot seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally she scuffed her toes and muttered, "I thought you just felt sorry for me, not having any friends and nothing to do all summer."
Benny opened his mouth to say how ridiculous that was, then realized – that was probably exactly how it looked.
"Well, uh. That's…it's not – look, I really meant it. You know baseball, and we could use somebody on the field who knows what they're doing. You could really help us improve our game."
Silently, Dot eyed him for a moment more, then –
"You need to start with Smalls. Has he ever played anything before?"
Benny laughed. "Nah, but trust me – he's tons better than he was last year."
"Well, this summer he oughta build up his stamina – he gets winded running across just half the outfield. Now I see why you never put him up to bat. He'd never make it around the bases."
It sounded simple enough, but Dot wasn't finished.
"Ham could throw a lot harder if he'd just put his weight behind it. His whole arm's like a limp noodle. And Bertram doesn't even pretend to dive for the ball. Maybe he's afraid of messing up his glasses – I don't know. And your pitcher, Denunuez, he – what?"
Benny tried to stop smiling, but he couldn't help it. "Sorry, I'm not making fun, promise. It's just – you noticed all that without even knowing you were supposed to?"
Dot flushed, but shot back, "Maybe all that stuff's so obvious I didn't have to try."
He laughed again, but was glad the others weren't around to hear it.
By now they'd reached the four-way stop that sat between his and Smalls' house. He hesitated.
"You, uh – I can walk you home, if you want." Mr. Mertle's admonition about manners echoed in his head.
"Oh," Dot seemed embarrassed. "You don't have to – it's not very close by."
He frowned. "How far is it?"
She mumbled, "Maple Street."
Benny almost dropped his bat in surprise – Maple Street was one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in town. The houses there were the closest thing to mansions you'd find outside of Beverly Hills.
It was also on the other side of town, and by now it was nearly dark.
"Wait here."
He ran inside, stuck his bat and glove in his room, yelled to his mom that he'd be right back, and wheeled his bicycle from the garage out to where Dot was waiting patiently.
"Benny, I can't take your bike – "
"Dot, just hop on, okay?" He hitched one leg over the seat and gestured with his head to the sturdy hubs, like short pieces of metal pipe, that stuck out of the center of his back wheel. She shook her head.
"Then you'll be coming home by yourself in the dark, Benny, I don't wanna get you in trouble with your mom."
"My mama knows I can take care of myself. And I'll stick to where the streetlights are. C'mon, Dot."
After a moment more, she sighed and stepped onto the hubs. Her hands rested gently on his shoulders for balance, only tightening for a second when he started to pedal.
She didn't say much on the ride, but Benny sensed that maybe she was embarrassed or even regretted coming today. He had to talk loud since she was behind him.
"I hope you don't take any of it personally, what all the boys did today."
"I don't," she said. "If they really were mean, they wouldn't have let me watch you all at school. They just like how things are and don't want somebody messing it all up."
He had to stop at a crosswalk, and peered over his shoulder at her. "But you're not gonna mess things up. You're gonna make 'em better."
Dot's eyes widened, but just then the light changed and he pedaled across the street. The next turn was into her neighborhood, and she quietly directed him to her house – the biggest one on the block. All the windows were dark.
He coasted up the driveway, but she jumped off before he came to a total stop. "Thanks for the ride."
"Don't mention it." He tried not to stare – Dot wasn't even looking at him, but somehow it seemed like she was mortified to have such a nice house. "See you Monday."
"Yeah." She paused. "Has Miss Wallace always been such a sour-puss?"
"Yep," he grinned. "She's mean to everybody, even the other teachers. Except Principal Williams."
"You know what I think, she's sweet on him." Dot nodded emphatically.
Benny had to laugh at her serious tone. "You think so?"
"Uh-huh. Bet she's got a cat named after him. Maybe more than one."
At this point, he was almost falling off his bike from laughing, but he'd never been so grossed out. "You should ask her tomorrow to show you pictures of all her cats."
"Ugh, no – we'd miss lunch for sure." Dot wrinkled her nose.
Just then, the porch light flicked on. She gave the front door a nervous glance. "I'd better go. Bye, Benny."
"Bye."
The ride home went by much faster, but even through supper and the checkers game with his little brother, all the way through when he climbed into bed and turned off the light, Benny couldn't help but wish there was some way to make the boys like her.
/