Sitting on his bed, pounding his baseball into his glove he thought back on the day.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what his mom did. She might try to hide it, or keep it secret, but in the little one room apartment it was next to impossible to do.

Usually she didn’t bring them home – she must have a cheap hotel or something – but sometimes she did. And when he thought of the smart asses laughing in the lunch line he wanted to punch them.

“His mom’s like a car, she burns 4 rubbers a day”. More like a race car, far more than 4 a day. But that didn’t give them the right to make fun of her.

It didn’t matter that they didn’t know better. It didn’t matter that their moms went to normal work or stayed home and baked cookies. They teased him, and little though they knew it they were right on the mark.

He remembered before his dad got sent away, when his mom would stay home and make cookies. Memories turned to daydreams and he imagined a bat smashing their smart ass noses.

How would they like that.