Spencer rode his bicycle over to Mark’s house, a kid he met at school yesterday. Mark came out and stood on the porch.

“Hey, Mark. Wanna go down to the pond and do some fishin’?”

“Can’t,” said Mark. “Got a soccer game at 2. Karate class at 6 and a Boy Scout meeting at 7:30.”

“Then how ’bout tomorrow?” Spencer asked.

“No good. I got guitar lessons at 9:30 and another soccer game at 2. Then I got my sister’s dance recital sometime after that.” Mark looked down at Spencer. “Don’t you do any of these things?”

“Nah, but I do other things.”

“Like what?” asked Mark.

“I’m building a fort in my backyard with tree branches I found in the woods. I ride my bike a lot. I go down the canal trail with Sammy sometimes and we stop and look for rocks for his collection.”

“Don’t you play soccer or baseball?” Mark asked.

“Sammy and I kick a ball around in his backyard. We set up a couple of goals we made out of plastic pipes my uncle had left over from a new bathroom he was doin’. On Saturdays, me and a bunch of kids play whiffle ball at the park. Sometimes we play all day till it gets dark. You should come with us. We’re playing again this Saturday.”

“I can’t,” said Mark. “The Scouts are having a campout Friday night. Then after I come home Saturday morning, we gotta go to the science fair in Allentown. My brother has a project he built that’s on display, and after that, we’re all going to my cousin’s house. She has a big pool and we’ll all go swimming.”

“Boy, you don’t seem to have time for nuthin,” said Spencer, scratching his head.

“What do you mean? I do stuff every day. Besides, who wants to waste their time pickin’ up sticks in the woods or kickin’ a stupid ball in their backyard?”

Mark bragged. “I play soccer three times a week. We got cool uniforms just like I got with the Scouts. You got any uniforms?”

“Nah,” said Spencer, “not unless you count a New York Mets T-shirt my mom gave me for my birthday. I wear it to our whiffle ball games.”

“Whiffle ball. That’s not real baseball. I play Little League Baseball. Our team wasn’t good, but you should see the big trophy I got,” Mark said. “You got trophies?”

“Well, kind of,” said Spencer. “I hit three dingers last week and the team gave me the ball.”

Mark laughed. “A plastic ball is your trophy? Mine is gold and really big. I should show you.”

“Why did you get it? You do somethin’ special?” Spencer asked.

“Nah. Everybody got one for bein’ on the team. And how ’bout this? There was this one time I struck out and my dad yelled at the umpire. He got so loud, they told him he had to leave the field, and there was another time when my mom yelled at a coach from the other team to stop scorin’ runs. We were losin’ 15-0. The league told my parents that if they keep up their yellin’, I won’t be able to play next year.

“How come you don’t play Little League?” Mark asked.

“I dunno. I guess it’s cuz my dad died when I was 3 years old and my mom works two jobs so she just tells me to go out and play. I just gotta be home before the streetlight goes on. How ’bout you? You get to play outside before it gets dark?”

“Nah,” said Mark. “We don’t do nuthin’ without my parents takin’ us somewhere to do it. My mom probably wouldn’t let me go across the street unless she went with me. I mean, with Little League and karate and soccer and guitar, I got plenty to do.”

“You like doin’ all that stuff?” Spencer asked. “I mean, is it fun?”

“I guess it’s fun. My mom says I need to do all this extra stuff cuz it’s good for gettin’ into a college. I mean, it’s gonna look better than fishin’ and playin’ whiffle ball and buildin’ a fort with sticks, for sure.”

“I ain’t worryin’ about college,” Spencer said. “Geez. I’m only 11 years old. I just wanna be a kid for as long as I can before I have to be a grown-up. For what I can see, they don’t have much fun. My mom told me the best years of her life were when she was a kid playin’ in the attic with her dolls and jumpin’ rope with her friends. She tells me to do things I like to do, cuz when I grow up, I gotta do things somebody else tells me to do.”

Spencer shook his head and looked up at Mark. “Seems to me like you already got somebody tellin’ you what to do.”

“Well, I guess it’s kinda like that.” Mark said with a frown. “I’m just hangin’ out now till my mom gets home from shopping and takes me to soccer. Then we run around like crazy tryin’ to kick a ball while all the moms scream, “Go! Go!” Through the whole game.”

“Sounds to me like you don’t like playin’ so why don’t you just tell her?”

“I mean it’s OK, but sometimes, I’d rather do somethin’ I wanna do, but then I think I don’t really know what I wanna do.”

“Well, I gotta get goin’. Big bass are bitin’ down at the pond. I got a 16 incher two days ago.” Spencer jumped on his bike and turned toward the street.

“Hey!” Mark shouted. “What time you guys play whiffle ball on Saturday?”

“We get there at 3,” Spencer yelled back.

“I’ll ask my mom if I can … I’ll tell her I’m gonna play so count me in!”

“Cool, but we got one rule you gotta follow before you come,” Spencer shouted.

“What’s that?” asked Mark.

“No moms allowed.”

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com.