After settling in as best we could, I wandered around, trying to get familiar with the new environment and hoping to see if there were any neighborhood kids. Most of the residents were older. I longed to find something to do with kids my age.

Strangely, the kids living there would come out to play only in the evenings. The heat kept them indoors. But it didn’t take long to make their acquaintance. On warm summer evenings, they would come out, one at a time, until there were enough to play ball. Two doors down from us, on the same side of the street and in a better house, lived the Garza family. There were five boys and one girl, who was the youngest. They were always the first to come out. Juan, who was my age, was one of them. I’d never seen him at school. I don’t know how I could have missed him, since he was tall for a Mexican kid. The friendliest of the bunch, he was easy to get along with. Soon he was inviting me to the Saturday baseball games.

These games weren’t the kind one might think of. They were the kind poor kids play. One of the guys had a wooden bat but no ball. In the absence of a ball, we used rocks. The guys had it all figured out. To prevent someone from getting hurt with the rock, they used the small round ones. They put the rock inside a white tube sock and tied the end into a knot. When the rock was hit, it sailed across the field and hit the ground, with the understanding that no one should catch it in midair. It was thrown underhand in time to get the batter out. We played in the middle of the street right in front of our houses. Between us all, we had two gloves we shared, depending on what position we played. The catcher got a glove. The pitcher rotated the glove with the first baseman. We would play until dark or until we couldn’t see the rocks coming our way.

It was an incredible activity that helped us gain excellent hand-eye coordination. If someone hit the sock rock straight at us, ducking was the way to not have to call an ambulance. If it was hit high in the air, getting out of the way showed agility and dexterity. We didn’t want to be anywhere near the rock when it was coming down. I quickly learned to let the ball drop, then pick it up and throw it to first base. I caught on quickly.

The only part of the game I didn’t particularly care for was when we were choosing teams. The two oldest boys would be the captains. Someone would toss the bat in the air. As it was coming down, one of the captains grabbed it. The other captain would place their hand on top of the one who caught it, and they’d take turns going up the bat handle until someone reached the top. That person would be the first to choose a player. I never wanted to be the last one chosen because everyone knew the last two or three chosen were the worst. No one said it, but they didn’t have to.

When we got so engrossed in the game, we kept at it until nightfall. (There were no streetlights to keep the game going.) If one of us got hit with the rock ball, the captains immediately called time-out. If there was no blood, the game continued. If there was, we all ran home. But very few of us got hurt because our reflexes adjusted to the ball’s speed. If the ball was coming in fast, we let it go by. If it wasn’t, we caught it. That was rule number one. For those who didn’t live by rule number one, having the sock on the rock lessened the pain.

Problem: Parents started complaining—complaining that too many socks were going missing. It wasn’t unusual for some of us to show up with socks that didn’t match. What fun!

The Garzas finally came up with a real baseball one day. But it didn’t make catching the ball with our bare hands any less painful. That’s when we started using socks again. We’d wear them on our hands. The thicker socks were the best. But it wasn’t long before our parents took those away as well. As we lost players to accidents, we looked for other options to keep us entertained.

Hide-and-seek was one of my favorites. The neighborhood had old sheds behind some of the old, dilapidated adobe houses, as well as carports built from used lumber. These were used as storage places. They were also great places to hide in. The rules were set by the older kids.

“You can’t hide in your house or in somebody else’s house,” one of the kids said, stating rule number one.

“What about the garage? Can I hide in the garage?” one of the youngest asked in a meek voice.

“No, you can’t. You just told everybody where you’re hiding, stupid.”

“If you’re found, you can’t go somewhere else and hide again. You’re out, and you get over here. Understand? The last one to be found wins the game, and they get to choose who will be it. Now get ready,” the older boy explained.

Seven or eight of us played this game. The person chosen to be it was blindfolded and asked to spin around till the count of ten while the others ran and hid. The younger kids took a long time to find anyone, so they were seldom picked. Why one of the younger kids was told to be it one day was a mystery. As soon as the game started, I ran to one of the nearest sheds. I got in, shut the door, and hid behind some old boxes. It was dark, with very little light coming in from the cracks in the walls. It was hard to distinguish what was in there. I silently stood there. Suddenly, a small voice startled me.

“This is my place. You need to find another place.”

It was the youngest Garza sibling. The girl. Her name was Sandra, and I thought she was the prettiest girl in the whole town. Even though she came from Hispanic parents who had dark hair, brown eyes, and brown skin, Sandra was blond and blue eyed. She was gorgeous.

So there I was, in the dark, in a shed, with the prettiest girl around. Well, she was the only girl I knew in the neighborhood other than my sisters. It was tight quarters. My heart was pounding, and I thought the sound would give us away. I could hear it in my ears. Being that close to her made me nervous.

“You have to go!” she demanded.

“It’s too late. If I open the door, Danny could be there, and he’ll find us both,” I whispered back. I convinced her we could both hide. If I was seen first, I wouldn’t tell Danny she was there.

“Well, be quiet then,” she said, putting her finger to her lips.

There wasn’t much free space in the shed. It was packed with junk. The little space we shared forced us to stand close to each other. I was close enough to smell her hair. Her blond hair was thick with dangling, uncombed curls at the ends. Although her hair was all over the place, covering most of her face, she still looked amazing.

“Who combs your hair? Your mother?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Shut up. You’re going to give us away.”

That was the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to stay close to her in the dark. I leaned slightly closer as she peeked through the crack in the wall. I could smell her hair. I placed my nose right up to the back of her scalp, taking in the sweet fragrance of soap and sweat mixed together. Wanting to look at her face, I squeezed closer to her. What if I kissed her? I wondered.

We sat quietly for what seemed an eternity, then I started to feel nervous. Why am I so nervous? I thought. I’d never been this close to her. Was it proximity? Was I too close? And then it hit me. It took a second for me to realize that if one of her older brothers caught me in there with her and was thinking what I was thinking, I could get expelled from the group. If I was lucky, I might avoid a beating. I could just hear one of them saying, “What were you doing in there with her?” That made me nervous.

The door popped open. Little ol’ Danny poked his head inside, squinted, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He took one look, and just when he got ready to close the door, she shoved me with no warning. I came crashing into little ol’ Danny and smashed him in the face with my elbow.

He made me. I was the first one out.

What nervous fun!