Author's Note: This is gonna be a blast! Enjoy, peoples! :D

Disclaimer: I own…an epic sudoku pencil. 'Tis the shiz!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

We'd been running for about five minutes when I heard the sounds of kids shouting and music blasting from a radio floating over the trees of a different neighborhood. Benny had obviously heard too, because he started running faster and telling me to speed up. "We're almost there. Let's go."

He led me through a clump of scraggly bushes, through a hole in a wood fence, and into a dusty, grassless field filled with kids.

Whoa.

"Welcome to the sandlot, Shane," Benny said proudly.

I gawked at the scene laid out in front of me; there were kids - seven boys total, when you didn't count Benny - that were either tossing a baseball around to each other, or arguing over which station they should tune into on the radio. There were two boys arguing over the radio. One of them - a short kid with tan skin and dishwater-brown hair - wanted to keep the radio at the alternative station because the White Stripes' Seven Nation Army was playing; and the other kid - a short, chubby ginger with one HELL of an attitude - wanted to change to the oldies station because the DJ was playing the Beach Boys.

"The Beach Boys don't suck at all!" the ginger argued.

"Yeah yeah, they do, too! The White Stripes put those weenies to shame!"

The ginger, now obviously mad that the other kid had dissed the 60's band, tuned the radio in to the oldies station, and put his hands on his thick hips triumphantly. A cry of protest rose from some of the others, me included.

"Hey, put the Stripes back on!" I shouted to the ginger.

As soon as I'd spoken, everyone in the lot was dead silent. All seven heads whipped around, and focused in on me. I suddenly wished I hadn't said anything.

The ginger looked at Benny with an angry and gobsmacked expression on his freckle-covered face. "You bought a GIRL with you, Rodriguez?"

Benny shrugged casually. "She asked if she could come and watch."

"You shoulda' told her no!" the ginger snapped. "I mean, Yeah Yeah has a sister, and he says no when she asks if she can come along!" He threw his hands in the air dramatically. "GREAT, now we're gonna have to explain everything that happens during the game to her!"

"This is just WONDERFUL," a kid with enormous coke bottle glasses piped up. "Next thing you know, we're gonna be down a player, or some crap like that."

Benny glared at the two boys who were making a huge stink over my showing up. "You two done yet?"

"Aw, well that's just perfect!" Coke bottle glasses kicked at the dirt, and sent dust flying everywhere. "DeNunez ain't gonna show now!"

"Whaddaya mean DeNunez ain't gonna show now, Squints?"

"He just texted me and said he's got a stomach bug." 'Squints' shook his head. "He's not getting outta his house for a good three days now."

The ginger groaned, and stomped his foot. "Great, now what the hell are we gonna do if DeNunez is barfing his brains out in a metal bowl?"

"Whaddaya think, Ham? We get someone else to pitch for today," Benny told him exasperatedly. "Yeah Yeah, you feel like pitching?"

Yeah Yeah - the kid who wanted to keep Seven Nation Army playing on the radio - shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah yeah, sure. I'll pitch."

"All right, awesome!" Benny jogged over to home base, and picked up the wooden bat that was resting on the plate. "Show me what you've got, Yeah Yeah!"

Yeah Yeah stepped up to the pitcher's mound, and looked at the dusty baseball in his right hand, then at Benny with a nervous frown on his face. "Here goes."

He whipped the ball at Benny as hard as he could, and Benny slammed that baby sky-high with a loud CRACK!

I watched in wide-eyed awe as Benny started running to first base. His legs stretched out in front of him, and propelled his body forward from base to base with extraordinary speed.

Jesus, look at him go. Benny's putting the freakin' hustle on.

I whistled. "Kid's moving faster than a bullet from a damn gun."

Benny had made it to third base, and was about to head for home, when Squints caught the ball, and threw it to 'Ham' - the ginger - in an attempt to stop him. For a brief moment, I thought Ham was gonna tag Benny out. Then, the guy totally blew my mind away.

Benny started running back and fourth between third and home base, waiting for the moment when somebody would hesitate, then make a break for home. I watched his movements as Squints and Ham played what looked like a game of keep-away with the baseball; Benny would run towards home base, but would jam his feet into the dirt and run back to third as soon as Ham caught the ball from Squints, then he'd do the same routine when Squints had the ball.

I realized Benny was doing a dryland version of a hockey stop as he ran between the bases. He moves like a hockey player. Now, where the hell did he learn to move like that?

After a couple of seconds, Squints caught the ball, and took a millisecond breather.

BIG mistake on his part.

Benny bolted for home, and ran across the plate just as Ham lunged forward to tag him out. He was too late though; Benny had made it home safe.

Holy frickin' SHIT, this guy's amazing!

"Damn Rodriguez, that was insane! I had no idea you were so good at the game!"

He just smiled at me as he picked up the bat, and stood over home plate. "Okay Yeah Yeah, throw me another one!"

Yeah Yeah looked at Benny, and shook his head. "No way, man. I think I strained my arm on that last throw." He gripped his right arm, and grimaced slightly from the soreness. "Sorry, Benny."

"Fine then, don't pitch." Benny started scanning the field. "Anybody else wanna pitch?"

The other six kids were silent, and stared cow-eyed at Benny.

Benny groaned in frustration. "C'mon guys, can't somebody pitch?"

The others shook their heads. Nobody else wanted to pitch.

Then, Benny looked at me. "Hey Shane, can you throw a ball?"

Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me. HE wants me to pitch?

"Yeah." I looked up at him, and my jaw dropped to the ground. "Wait, YOU'RE asking me to pitch for you guys?"

"Sure."

Ham snorted. "You're joking, right Benny? You're seriously asking a girl to pitch for us?"

"Did you not just hear me, Ham? Yes, I'm asking a girl to pitch for us. You have a problem with that?"

Everybody on the field - excluding Benny and Smalls - started laughing, with Ham being the loudest. "That's real funny, Benny. You're actually asking a puny girl to throw baseballs for us." He looked at me, and sent a jeering guffaw in my direction. "She probably can't throw a ball to save her life. Who wants to bet she's a weak whiner, too?"

Okay, I'd been pretty in control of my emotions for most of Ham's arrogent ranting; but the moment that the carrot-top, fucking butterball had dared to call me a weak whiner, any common sense and grip I'd had on my anger totally evaporated. I spat on the ground fiercely and jammed my right hand into Benny's baseball mitt, my eyes seeing nothing but red as I stalked over to Ham.

"You have a helluva nerve calling me a weak whiner, you stupid little porker," I seethed. "I can throw a ball, and if you're dumb enough to not believe me, then I'll fucking prove you WRONG."

"You don't have to, Shane," Smalls said in an attempt to stop me from unleashing my wrath on Ham. "I believe you can throw."

"Quit bein' a kiss-ass, Smalls." Ham took off his catcher's gear, tossed it to Benny, and told him to put it on. Then, he took the bat, and stood over home plate with an overconfident, cocky air surrounding his doughy body. "All right, drama queen. If you say you can pitch, then throw the ball as hard as you can and try to strike me out. I DARE YOU TO."

An inkling of doubt passed through me at the thought of throwing a baseball as hard as humanly possible. I didn't doubt that I could do it; I'd tossed around my fair share of baseballs with my dad back when I lived in Boston. I did, however, doubt that I could throw the ball with every ounce of power in me without hurting someone.

"Let's go, princess. I don't have all day."

I couldn't. The last time I'd really pitched a baseball as hard as I could, I'd put so much power into my throw that I managed to bruise the catcher's hand pretty badly, even with the mitt on.

Ham snickered. "Well, would you look at that. The girl's chickening out." He sneered at me. "See guys? I told you she was a weak whiner."

That one sentence changed everything for me. I slowly looked up from the baseball sitting in the mitt, to Ham with deadly calmness. "NO, I'm not."

"Prove it, then."

Oh, believe me, I will.

I sucked down a shaky breath of air to calm me down. When the deep breathing didn't work, I started singing to myself. My brain quickly decided that My Chemical Romance's Blood would do me some good, so I began to softly mumble the lyrics as I dumped the ball into my left hand.

Well, they encourage your complete cooperation,
Send you roses when they think you need to smile...

I gripped the ball tightly in my hand, and spaced my fingers apart a little.

I can't control myself because I don't know how,
And they love me for it, honestly, I'll be here for a while...

I whipped that baseball with as much power I could gather up at Benny's open hand, and it smacked into the glove's thick leather with an explosive POP!

"Strike one!" Benny called out.

Ham scowled. "She got lucky that time. I'll bet you anything that she can't do that again."

He spoke too quickly. I wound up for another pitch.

So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff,
Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough
So give them blood, blood, blood...

I threw a curveball, and like I'd expected him to, Benny closed Ham's catcher's mitt around the baseball.

"Strike two!"

I splayed my fingers apart before I threw a sinker. Benny easily caught the ball, and yelled out, "Strike three!"

Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood!

Angrily, Ham threw the bat down on the ground. "Big deal! So she struck me out! She probably can't strike anybody else out!"

"Try me!" I shouted at Ham.

"Okay then! Strike out Benny, and you get to be our new pitcher!" Ham snickered before he finished with, "Good luck with that, though! Nobody's ever struck Benny out!"

"Ham, you retard! What are you doing!" Benny hissed.

Ham shrugged carelessly. "Hey, the chick's putting her money where her mouth is. I say let her."

I sighed. "C'mon Benny, let's just get this over with!"

Benny glared darkly at Ham as he ripped the catcher's gear off. He shook his head as he grabbed the wooden bat off the ground. Meanwhile, I kept singing to myself.

A celebrated man amongst the gurneys...

"Give it to me, Shane!"

They can fix me proper with a bit of luck...

I sent a fastball screaming towards Ham's mitt. It crashed into the mitt just as Benny took a swing at it.

"Strike one!" Ham announced with distaste in his voice.

The doctors and the nurses, they adore me so,
But it's really quite alarming, 'cause I'm such an awful fuck...
I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff,
I gave you all that you can drink and it has never been enough

I pitched another curveball, and again, Ham caught it as Benny swung the bat.

I gave you blood, blood, blood...

"Strike two!"

By now, the other guys were whistling and and shouting. I think I heard Squints say, "That chick's gonna strike out Benny! Holy crap!"

I couldn't wait anymore. I wound up for my one last pitch - a slider.

"I'M...THE...KINDA' HUMAN WRECKAGE THAT YA LOVE!" I sang loudly as I threw the ball.

There was a whooshing sound as Benny tried to hit the ball, followed by a POP as Ham caught it with his glove.

Nobody made a sound as Ham looked at the baseball in his glove, then at me. His eyes had widened to the size of teacup saucers, he was so shocked. "I don't believe it," he squeaked. "You actually struck out Benny. That's never happened."

I wiped away the beads of sweat that had dewed on my forehead, and breathed deeply. "Too bad," I rasped tiredly. "It just did."

Ham was silent for a long time. Assuming that that meant he was too peeved at me and my left arm to say anything, I turned around, and walked away from the pitcher's mound to head home. Just as I was about to pass through the hole in the fence, I felt somebody grab my hand and pull me back into the sandlot. When I turned around to see who it was, I saw Benny. My heart rate kicked up a couple notches as soon as I looked into his light brown eyes.

"Hey, Ham did say that if you struck me out, then you could pitch for us. Well, you struck me out."

I blinked a couple times, then smiled softly. "Next time, make sure Ham tells me if I'm part of your team or not, 'kay?"

"I'll assume that you're saying you'll pitch for us."

"Yes, BUT, there's one condition." I punched the palm of the mitt. "I keep pitching after your other pitcher shows up again."

"Deal."

I grinned, and punched the mitt again. "Let's play some baseball."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

SHE'S DONE IT NOW! SHANE CAN PITCH LIKE A BADASS! XD ENJOY GUYS, AND STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER THREE! :D