Yesterday’s story about Clayton was a practice exercise for an upcoming short story contest. This morning at 3:45am Britt woke me up wanting me to tell her side. I guess I’m not done with Clayton and Britt just yet.
Brittany Alexia McAllister, with a name like that you’d just have to be royalty or at the very least a prim and proper young lady, right? Well, our prim and proper young lady is playing second base afterschool with a bunch of boys. Her long blonde hair carelessly pulled through the back of her baseball cap. She’s covered with dirt from head to toe after making a spectacular diving catch.
Scotty, the 3rd baseman, teasingly shouts, “Great catch, BRITTANY, I bet your dolls are so proud!”
Laughing, Brittany shouts back, “I bet YOUR dolls can play a better 3rd base than you! Call me Brittany again and you’ll be home with them having a tea party, sporting a black eye!”
Scotty and the rest of the boys hoot and holler. They are crazy about Britt, she is just one of the guys and she loves baseball.
When Brittany was born her mother was over the moon to have a sweet smelling, precious baby girl. Brittany’s dad was a bit skittish over such a fragile little princess. Nobody thought much of it when they’d dress their delicate flower in her pink dresses and matching pink hats and 2 minutes later she’d rip off the hat and smear strained peas into her pink finery. She was a rambunctious baby, that’s all.
Brittany’s mom gave up on the pink dresses and matching hats after the second time her toddler had stripped naked and dressed the dog in her outfit, pink hat included. For the sake of the poor dog, she gave up. Once the pink outfits were given up on, the clothes stayed on and the dog could relax.
Brittany’s dad was a big baseball fan, the LA Dodgers, of course. Every night during baseball season you’d find him geared up in Dodger blue, watching the game. Brittany’s mom would half watch while doing other things. Brittany’s dad doesn’t quite remember at what age Brittany started joining him, but watching games together became their thing. He was no longer skittish over the thought of a delicate girl. He and Brittany were sports buddies and Brittany’s mom had long ago released the notion of a pink wearing mini-me to go shopping with, they accepted and adored their tom-boy.
One night after watching a game, Brittany’s dad jubilantly exclaimed, “Great win, huh Brittany?”
“Dad…” she replied, “I want to be called Britt.”
And Britt it was from there on out.
To be continued…