I walked timidly up the steps to the pale blue door. The sign said “NO SOLICITORS.” I turned back as the Aerostar pulled away — no backing down now. Afterall, this was a friend’s house. A little social anxiety never killed anybody.

The doorbell glowed yellow — I stared at it blankly for a spell. I raised my arm, wrist, finger toward the button. The door swung open fast and there stood Derk. He hung his head out the doorway with a mad grin. His spiky blonde hair sparkled in the morning sun.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” he asked incredulously.

“Neh…sorry.” I smiled and followed inside.

Loud grunts echoed through the front hallway.

“OOH KAL, KNOCK IT OFF!”

“What, Derk?”

A tall thin man with red curly hair hoisted a loveseat over his head; he swung back down low in one motion unleashing another pained grunt; it ended in a gasping wheeze. He set it down and took a seat.

“Hi, I’m Derk’s Dad.” he said. “Just getting in a lil’ workout.”

He shook my hand warmly…sweaty. His tight pocket t-shirt smelled like dedication; the jeans, which I thought might split a second ago, looked no worse for wear. I stared into his friendly bespectacled eyes.

“Hello.”

“Let’s go back outside,” said Derk. “I’ve gotta game we can play.”

He grabbed a football from the garage and skipped out into the vacant neighborhood street. It was eerie quiet. Cars lined the block without a soul in sight.

“Ever played masochistic burnout?”

“…”

“Ha! Didn’t think so! I MADE IT UP!”

One side of my face broke into the first of many freeing smiles. The strangeness of the situation was freeing and my previous anxiety whispered away.

“We stand twenty paces away…take turns throwing the football at one another. First one to cry loses.”

My laughter echoed through the street. I picked up the football and marched out the distance.

“Visitors first?” I inquired.

He nodded and a wheezing laugh burst from his belly; he was hopping with excitement.

“I’M READY! BRING IT ON! NO FLINCHING! NONE!”

I heaved the ball not for accuracy, but in hopes of a quick exit — if it hit, it would hurt. He turned sideways and the spinning point of the ball struck his hip.

“AAWWWWWRGH!” He laughed hysterically. “OH my GOD, I cheated and you still got me!”

His turn; I knew I should close my eyes, but I didn’t. He unleashed the ball with Monica Seles fury and it wobbled hard and fast into my shoulder.

“SONFABITCH!”

The melee continued with more laughter than pain until my eventual throw struck him square in the nose. Lucky shot. A high pitch scream loosed from his lungs. Still, he laughed, but tears streamed down his cheeks. Blood began to trickle down over his lips and onto his chin. He wiped it on his shirt.

“That c…ounts.” he said between heaving giggle breaths.