Locke in the Lot
I do not own the Sandlot
The Box
We've only arrived in the San Fernando Valley for one hour, yet we weren't even halfway done with carrying the cardboard boxes out of the moving truck. You would kind of expect a family of three to have less cargo than a full army camp, but that's not the case. I've got to admit, though, I'm surprised that none of us had passed out yet. I would expect Daddy to playfully complain to Momma if it weren't for her method of smacking him in the back of the head. While at the same time, telling him, "Aren't you supposed to be the one that wears the pants of the household? If not, I'll happily take your place and kick you out on the streets."
As of right now, it's been two hours since we've been here, and we're almost done with unloading the boxes. Soon enough, though, the driver of the U-Haul truck got a tad bit too irritated with us and ended up throwing the rest of the boxes out on the pavement. Sure, it seemed a bit rude at first but then I realized why he unleashed his frustration out on the boxes—it was the San Fernando Valley.
It's hot.
It's humid.
And it's a real pain in the ass to sit in a cracked leather seat and bake under the sun through the window.
At this point, I guess he kind of helped us. After all, he threw the boxes to the ground, thus saving us time from hauling them one by one from the back of the truck. In a way, I suppose that we should at least give him some appreciation.
"Marcia! Do you think you can handle the rest of the boxes outside while Momma and I unpack the boxes?" Daddy's voice rang from the house. I gagged a little. That was just his way of saying that him and Momma needed some "alone time" and that he didn't want anything to butcher the mood.
I replied, "Of course, Daddy!"
As I rolled my mud colored eyes, I skipped back outside with my glossy, dark brown waves bouncing with every step I took. With only five more boxes sitting upon the sidewalk, I figured that I could handle it. The only problem was that one box probably weighed two times more of my weight. I could probably handle it. Most likely.
Cracking my knuckles, I grasped the first cardboard box managed to lift it one inch above the ground. At that point, I sort of just waddled all over the place frantically until I got to the door. Eventually, at maybe five minutes, I pushed it inside the house and groaned. There were still more boxes outside, but I deemed myself to be too lazy to even get back up on my feet. As of result, I just sat there next to the colossal box that I hauled in. I kept on silently reciting my prayers just in case I die in the process of handling boxes.
After about a good twenty minutes, I ended up bringing in three of the other boxes much to my relief. Just one more and I can start my adventure and roam around San Fernando Valley. I went back outside, only to figure out that the box was approximately the weight of the other four boxes combined. At this rate, I'm probably going to die at the mere age of fifteen. I can already see the gravestone now:
'Marcia Maria Lopez Locke
January 18, 1949 – June 14, 1964
Beloved Daughter and Best Friend
Lost War Against Cardboard Box'
Of all the things to cause my death, I wouldn't like for it to be battling and losing to a cardboard box. My solution? Well, there is no way in hell that I'm going to carry it—after all, I don't want to die by carrying a box with a death label on it. The only other thing to really do is to push it. And that's exactly what I did. Did it plan out like the way I wanted it to? Not exactly.
At least I pushed it one inch of the way. I mean, I'm supposed to have a lot of upper body strength; I play softball for crying out loud! I'm supposed to haul everything and anything with no problem.
Until I met this box.
And I thought my legs were strong enough to help propel my "pushing skills" to the max. Well, I guess when you travel all the way from Brooklyn all the way here to the Valley, it can really take a toll on your strength and endurance. I guess. Maybe. I don't know if it's just me—but would you feel the same way if you were in my position? The world may never know.
It wasn't long until I completely gave up on trying to move the pesky box. Instead of pushing it around to get it inside the house, I had other ideas. You know those moments when you get so tired that you just want to sleep wherever and whenever you want? This was one of those moments, particularly. Because, let's face it, the only good thing this box can do is make for a crappy lounge seat. Well, bed, but you get the point, right?
Anyways, I was just there laying upon the cardboard box and basking under the sunlight. I didn't really care anymore if anyone saw me sleeping upon this box with only my mid-thigh white skirt and grey short-sleeved scoop back ballerina top to cover me up. It wasn't as if I was exposing myself to the world—Momma always told me to wear shorts under skirts and dresses. Then again, it's hot, so I kind of got a reason.
"Hey, are you alright?"
I slowly opened my eyes, only to see a the face of an absolute stranger. Now, I'm not necessarily saying that I'm "attracted" to him—he just seems like that kind of guy you would want your parents to meet. But I've got to admit, this guy had the looks. With a Brooklyn Dodgers ball cap set upon his mousy, messy jet black hair and a pair of light washed Levi's settled upon his hips, this guy didn't look too shabby. After all, he liked the Dodgers, making him seem like a decent guy in my book.
"Who are you?" I asked, sitting upright on the box to get a better look at him. Then, he crouched to meet my eyes.
"You must be new here," he said, pointing to the box. I looked down at my black and white saddle shoes, thinking of a clever excuse.
"I asked you a question."
"And I want to know if you're okay."
I saw him give a smirk in my direction and decided to raise an eyebrow.
"Are you or not?"
"And you want to know because…?"
"My mother raised me to be a gentleman."
"Only a true gentleman would help a lady up from a cardboard box and lift it for her," I said, returning the smirk. He raised an eyebrow as well, grasped my right hand with his, and gently pulled me up. Next thing I knew, he started to lift the box from the sidewalk and ended up bringing it inside the house with ease.
Now that I think about it, I've only met this stranger for a few minutes and already had him carrying things for me. I should really feel guilty right now, but I'm just grateful that he showed up and carried the box for me. Soon after, we stood in the middle of the hallway together, and eventually, our eyes met. That was when brown met hazel.
"Anyways, thanks for the help…uh…" I trailed off. The stranger guy soon jolted back into reality and stuck his hand out again.
"Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez—just Benny, actually," he replied as I smiled just when he asked me, "Your's?"
"Marcia."
"Cool."
There was a quick moment of silence.
"Well, thank you for helping me, just Benny. Maybe we'll see each other again soon."
"Yeah."
Then we just stood there. Well, until he looked back at the doorway. "I…uh…think I should be on my way now," Benny said sheepishly as he fixed his Dodgers hat back up on his head.
"Well, I guess we'll see each other later then?" I said.
"Definitely."
It was at that moment that I realized one thing particularly, and just when he was about to bolt down the sidewalk, I yelled, "I love your cap, by the way!"
He looked back, smiled, and tipped the bill of the cap.
A/N:
Hi! First fanfic evah! Well, Sandlot fanfic. Marcia (our oh-so-lovely protagonist) really does seem like a Mary Sue so far, but I can guarantee you that in the next few chapters, you'll see the real side of her. I think I can assure you that she'll be slightly different than any other female OC, and you'll see later on. I'm so very sorry if this "chapter" seems to...rushed or slow (depending on your preference), but I can promise you that the rest of the chapters will be better. (Trust me, I was contemplating whether or not I should keep the beginning of the chapter in, but changed my mind, knowing that I can't directly wedge Benny at the beginning.) Hopefully, I can make this divided into a twenty chapter story and shtuff.
And don't worry! I can ensure you that you'll be seeing the rest of our Sandlot boys in the next chapter (hopefully).
But here's a little bit of background information before we get onto the next chapter:
1) Nobody moved out of the Valley, therefore, you'll be seeing all the characters from the original movie (All the Sandlot boys, Phillips and his Crew of Pimps, Mr. Mertle, etc.)
2) This takes place in 1964, and I'm trying to make is as historically accurate as possible. Expect "unusual" outfits, slang, etc. Also, this is two years after when Smalls arrived in the Valley. (No, I will not put any racism in here. Let's just pretend that everyone in the Valley doesn't care about what you are.)
3) The ages of the Sandlot boys: (I'll gradually give out the rest of the ages of supporting characters later on, and these ages were just an approximate guess so tell me if you think I should change the ages.)
Benny, 15
Smalls, 13
Yeah-Yeah, 13
Bertram, 15
Kenny, 14
Ham, 14
Squints, 14
Timmy, 15
Tommy, 13
4) WARNING: CHARACTERS MAY SEEM OUT OF CHARACTER.
5) Yep, that's pretty much it.
Anyways, your reviews will be a great help and will help improve this fanfic (also, please keep in mind, this is a fanfic; therefore, this can get as cheesy as it gets—but I'll refrain from making it too cheesy because I don't want you to gouge your eyes out)!
And that's it—FOR NOW.