text: She picked at the paint with her fingernails. Years of sun and weather had beat down onto the benches, straining the last nerves of the white paint until it buckled and broke. Flecks lifted from the wood each time she touched it and refused to come off her hands. Her mother reached over and adjusted her hat. “You are going to get burnt, sweetie, you need to keep this on.” her mother said. She hardly noticed how the sun eyed the back of her neck, the same way it had eyed the bench they were sitting on. “Horsie?” she asked, reaching her hands into her mother’s direction. Moments later a little toy horse was pulled from the bag and presented to her. She clip-clopped her pony up and down the bench, dodging the people, bags, bottles and clutter that occupied them. There was so little space to play on the benches. Everyone kept standing and cheering. So much noise from both the benches and the field. Frustrated, she slips between the gap before her, ducking under seats and landing on the grass beneath. Her horse liked the grass. Despite still hearing the noise, she could finally play in peace. There was no one to shove her around and no one to smear sunscreen on her face. She sat blissfully in the soft, damp grass under the shade of the bench. Her little pony frolicked through grass taller than it was. The pony would eat its fill and nap in the shade before it was finally time to brush its hair with a little pink brush. “What are you doing down there?” a voice bellowed from above. She looked up to see the red face of her mother, peering down from the gap under her seat. “Get back up here.” Her mother pulled her back up, into the sun. The thunder of a roaring crowd flooded her ears. “Come sit on my lap.” said her mother “Look over there. That’s your brother playing.” She climbed onto her mother’s lap and gazed into the direction to which her mother pointed. A large green field was sprawled before her, scattered with young sportsmen. They all looked her brother's age. She struggled to tell them apart as many of them were wearing the same white clothes. Only two adults stood out with their large hats and clipboards. “Over there” her mother repeated “with the bat.” “With the bat?” she asked. She was confused. The boy with the bat had large white pads on his legs and a helmet covering his face. She couldn’t recognize her brother.“Yes, with the bat.” “That’s Biny?” she pointed. “Yes, that’s Brian.” Another boy ran across the field and threw a ball at her brother. He promptly hit the ball with a smooth swing and the crowd cheered once again as they watched the ball hop and roll over the field. Everyone on the field began running around in a state of panic. She was absorbed. Ball after ball they threw at her brother. Some he hit, but some he didn’t. Sometimes the crowd cheered and sometimes they did not even notice what was happening on the field, but she watched her big brother with pride. Finally, the adults with the big hats gestured to rounded up the teams. “That’s it,” said her mother. “Biny!” she exclaimed and pounced off of the benches as quickly as her little legs and the crowd would allow. Her brother turned to beckon her over. “Come” he said, “the coach is handing out icies.” She followed her brother as they walked up to a mountainous man, distributing icies to the team. “Coach?” “Yes, Brian” the man growled and glared at him from underneath his oversized hat. His face was red and glistening from the heat. She reached up her hand, hoping to also receive the icy treat. “Can my sister also have an icy?” “Only if your sister says ‘pretty please’.” the coach said. “Pretty please.” With a smile, he handed them each an iced lolly. It was the perfect treat after a long day of cricket.