Play The Field.

That summer was one of the hottest I could ever remember occurring in Jersey. The humidity was absolutely killer, making it feel at least ten degrees hotter than it actually was. Of course with my luck, the hottest days were the days I had to play soccer on. There was a recreational league in the surrounding area that had teams for all ages, the youngest of which were for 'grasshoppers,' children aged four to six. I had been on the team the previous year and absolutely loved it, so my parents had paid the twenty-five dollar sign-up fee without hesitation.

Our season started near the end of June and ended in the middle of October, and we usually had at least one game a week, with two tournaments situated in there somewhere. I was one of the only players who showed up to every game and I always had someone with me.

Frank.

Wherever I went that summer, Frank came with me. We were pretty well inseparable and within two months, our couch even knew him by name. Whenever she brought us Freezies or popsicles as a reward for trying our hardest, he would always get one as well.

Although Frank was always at my soccer games or always over at our house sharing supper with us on the front porch, I never went over to his house to play. Not once during that entire summer did I view the interior of his house. The only insights I actually had of his home life were the arguments that echoed throughout our neighborhood from behind his closed front door and the few tidbits he told me about his mother. He said that she slept a lot and got angry at him often, even when he hadn't done anything to upset her.

After repeating some of these things to my mom, any reluctance she had about having Frank over so much quickly disappeared. In fact, she started encouraging him to stay with us as much as possible. She even invited him along when we went to visit my grandma Elena, who thought he was absolutely adorable and sweet, despite the fact he rarely talked to anyone but me.

Although we had already been very close before school was out, that summer made us even closer. Frank was a very touchy person and although we got weird looks from some parents, we were always hugging.

September fourth was no exception to the rules I mentioned earlier. It was our last soccer game before school started back up on the seventh and like always, Frank was sitting on the bench beside the rest of the players, cheering us all on. My coach had put me on forward like usual, and I was waiting up by the opposing teams net, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

A few seconds later, the ball came to me and I kicked it with the side of my foot into the net. I knew even then that kicking with all your strength isn't the best way to do things; it's better to be precise and keep the ball in control than just booting it as hard as you could.

Our team scored two more goals before the end of the game, both of them by me. By the time I was heading back to the bench I was drenched in sweat and my feet were sore from my cleats that my mother had tied a little too tight. Frank was practically bouncing up and down as I sat beside him and listened to our coach explain about our end of the season tournament.

"Good job Mikey," he said, pulling me into a tight hug. He was once again wearing a sweater, this time a bright yellow one with a bumblebee on the front. That was something I found rather strange about Frank; he never wore t-shirts or shorts. Even his pyjamas had long sleeves. All summer he wore the same thing, sweaters and jeans with his little Converse shoes. I'd never commented on this observation, or the other thing I thought was odd.

Obviously, Frank hadn't signed up for soccer which was definitely strange. Almost every child in the surrounding area played on one of the teams, but Frank didn't. And I really had no idea. I hadn't bothered to ask, but I decided I would that night, as Frank was staying over again.

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We got back home at eight o'clock and after my mom fixed Frank and I a quick snack, it was time for us to go to bed. Just like every other night Frank slept on the left side of my bed and I slept on the right, closer to the window. Usually we ended up falling asleep immediately but on this night, the heat was simply too much. Through the wall, I could hear Joey and Gerard giggling loudly as something they probably saw on television. Even though he was just getting creepier and creepier, Joey was still Gerard's best friend. He was at our house almost every day as well.

"Mikey?" I rolled over onto my side and squinted, barely managing to make out Frank looking at me.

"Yeah Frank?"

"Duh-do you think I'm... pretty?" he stuttered, biting his lip.

"Of course you're pretty. Everyone says so, including me," I answered, smiling at the end of the sentence. He smiled back and gave me an awkward one armed hug before moving back to his side.

"You're pretty too Mikey." I could feel the blush spread across my face at his kind words and I shut my eyes, smiling widely. Silence fell between us for many a moment, until I remembered what I was going to ask him.

"Frank?" He murmured a reply, so I continued. "How come you didn't play soccer?"

"I didn't wanna wear shorts," he said quietly, now facing away from me. "Besides, I'm no good at soccer." He sighed quietly and wriggled around slightly before lying still. I stared at him for a moment before shutting my eyes and allowing myself to fall into a troubled sleep, plagued by the heat and the restlessness of my mind.