Disclaimer: I do not own the Sandlot or any of the subsequent movies. I do own whatever you do not recognize.

Summary: It's the morning of the first time Jamie gets to play ball in this surreal atmosphere. She becomes closer with her new friends and her competitive edge comes out when accepting a bet from a certain red headed, freckle faced kid who has a love for catching.

A/N: Thanks goes out to the reviewers! Thanks! P.S. Sorry for the wait, everyone.

--START--

"Progress always involves risk. You can't steal second base and keep your foot on first." --Frederick B. Wilcox

July 1st, 8:27 A.M.

When I woke up the next morning, I realized two things: 1) I was still in the 1960s and 2) the sun in the Valley hasn't changed at all; it was still the hottest, most annoying thing you would ever experience in a Valley summer, more annoying than the fact that I was still stuck here in the 1960s. And the other thing that I realized was that I was going to go play baseball today. At least that was the brighter side of this nightmare.

I threw the covers back and yawed, rubbed my eyes and stood up, stretching my hands towards the ceiling and arching my back. I slept well that night, because I guess time traveling takes a lot out of you. I looked at myself in the mirror and winced. My ponytail ended up on the other side of my head and my cheeks were pale from being asleep. Does being asleep suck all the niceness out of you?

I walked in the hallway and checked the time on the kitchen clock. Eight twenty-seven! Suddenly awake, I leaped for my room and grabbed the clothes I'd laid out before I went to bed. I dived into the bathroom, brushed my teeth with some really bad tasting toothpaste (apparently they didn't have mint back then,) and got changed in lightning speed. I brushed my hair with my fingers and fixed it so that it was in the center of my head and not to the side and put my baseball cap over it. I bent down and tied my Converses up, ran to my room again and grabbed my glove, and then ran out of the house with a million minutes of baseball ahead of me.

Where did Benny say to meet again? I walked down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace now because I was finally ready. My glove was tucked underneath my arm again and my feet followed the sidewalk automatically because I knew where I was going. In the 2000s, the sidewalk here was slightly cracked down the side because of an earthquake. Now it was smooth and looked like it was freshly paved.

The air was already thick with humidity and I was already sweating. I wiped my forehead and regretted wearing a shirt over my t-shirt. I yawned again and brightened a little when the town and Main Street came into view.

Main Street's stores looked brand new. The awnings were bright and colorful, the sidewalks were clean, the cars rumbled down the street without their drivers hanging out of the windows cursing at each other. People smiled and said hello to one another, the ladies' skirts and dresses not above their knees and not like a second skin. Men had their shirts tucked in and their pants weren't pooling around their ankles. Kids ran around, laughing instead of threatening one another. Vincent's Drugstore was full of people buying things for Fourth of July, which was in three days, and there were kids buying fire crackers and party poppers and things like that. Bazooka gum was popular: kids all over were chewing it.

I stood there in awe. There were so many things different here in the sixties rather than the two thousands. People were actually considerate and nice to each other and kids didn't use swear words to punctuate every sentence. I came back to myself and remembered that Benny said to meet at the back of the drugstore. I walked back there and saw Ham, Squints, Bertram, DeNunez, Yeah-Yeah and the Timmons twins.

"So I say to the girl, 'You wanna watch me play baseball?'" said Ham, obviously trying to entertain his friends. He stood there on a crate, his arms spread out, his mouth going a mile a minute. "And she said, 'Oh, Ham, could I?'"

"Man, Ham, do you always pick the sweet ones?" asked Squints. "Wendy's feisty!"

"Hardy har har, Squints," snapped Ham. "You've never been five inches near Wendy Peffercorn since the pool two years ago! Get over yourself!"

I laughed a little at this and this made them all turn around and stare at me. "What?" I said, putting my hands on my hips. "You've never seen a girl in pants before?"

Ham rolled his eyes. "Go back home, Janie."

"It's Jamie," I said.

"Whatever. Just go home." Ham hopped off the crate and came up to me. "What're you doing here anyway? Come to flirt or something?"

I shook my head. "No way, man. I'm here to play some baseball." I showed him my glove and grinned at the expression on his face.

"Girls can't play baseball," he said, his eyes narrowing, which made his freckles stand out a lot more. "It's the law."

"So if I throw a baseball, the cops'll come?" I asked, playing dumb for a split second. "C'mon, Ham, do you really think I'm that dumb? I can play baseball whether you like it or not."

"Well, I say you can't." He folded his arms and took a step back.

"I say I can because I know I can."

"Oooh," said the rest of the group, who came up behind Ham. Yeah-Yeah had his arms folded; Bertram spit at the crates stacked up against the wall; the Timmons brothers stood side-by-side; Squints took off his glasses and rubbed them hurriedly on his shirt.

Ham scowled and folded his arms, sneering at me.

"What's going on?" The voice made me turn around and I saw Benny and Smalls -- they had obviously walked over here together. "Ham, why d'you look so mad?"

I scowled and wanted to hit Ham with my glove. "'Cause he thinks that just 'cause I'm a girl that I can't play baseball." I glared at Ham over my shoulder. "Isn't that right, Hamilton?"

"Nobody calls me Hamilton," said Ham angrily.

"I just did," I said.

"Guys, cut it out," said Benny. He came over and faced Ham. "Okay, so yeah, she's a girl. There's nothing we can do about it."

"She says she can play ball," said Ham in protest. "Girls just can't."

"Tell you what," I said, coming in front of Benny and getting Ham full in the face. "I'll make a bet with you. I'm going to play baseball with you guys for one full day. If you think I can't play, then I'll just leave you guys alone. If I can, I get to play. Agreed?" I didn't know how I thought up something that fast, but it must be a short-term effect or something from the time traveling.

Ham took a breath and glanced at all of his friends. Yeah-Yeah was shrugging, the Timmons twins were nodding, and Squints was just flat out shaking his head.

"Don't agree man," said Squints, pushing his glasses up his nose and well, squinting at me. All these kids seemed to have a lot of freckles…except Smalls and Benny. Weird much? "It's too risky."

"How is it risky?" asked DeNunez. "She's a girl, man, you could take her."

"Um, standing right here, you know," I said, waving my hand a little.

"Sorry."

Ham got this arrogant look on his face and he shrugged, smirking a little. "Why not?" he said, walking easily away from our group for a minute, and then turning and facing us with that same smirk on his face. "I'm always in the mood for a good bet."

"Is that a yes or a no, Hamilton?" I said, using his full name again. He obviously hated it when I did that, because his arrogance was wiped away by a frown.

"That's a yes, Maxwell," he said, using my last name. "Are we going or what?"

We all screamed "Yeah!" (well, with Yeah-Yeah it was more like two yeah's) and then ran to the sandlot.

At The Sandlot

Ham put on his catcher's equipment and walked behind home plate, lifting up his mask and shouting for the entire world to hear: "Play ball!" For a kid like him, he had a high-pitched, scream-y voice when he shouted.

I was playing at short today, taking Yeah-Yeah's place. I bent down in the ready position, my glove ready, my muscles tensed for sprinting.

Benny moved easily towards the batter's box, a bat balanced in his hands. Slowly he dug in, preparing himself, and then swinging the bat smoothly up to a niche on his shoulder. His eyes were trained steadily on the ball in DeNunez's hand, and he bent at the knees and looked relaxed, ready.

DeNunez turned suddenly, his eyes on me. "Benny's gonna hit it to you," he said, "throw it to first." He pointed to first as if I had no idea where it was.

"Thanks," I said, nodding at him. I got ready, watched DeNunez go into his stretch, watched the ball fly towards Benny…and then watching Benny swing at the ball and send it hurtling towards me on a one-hop.

I reached down for it, falling to my knees and then chucking it to one of the Timmons, who caught it and looked a little surprised. I stood up, my muscles enjoying the work, and I grinned impishly at Ham. "I would take this time to say 'I told you so', but it's too early. Go ahead, gimme another one."

Ham scowled from beneath his catcher's mask and he got back into his rocking chair crouch, holding out his beat up glove as a target.

Benny hit me a pop fly and smirked as it flew through the air.

"Whoa, man," I said, shaking my head and getting under the pop fly easily. C'mon, I did this with my friends every single day of the summer. "That was a hard one." I threw it hard at Timmons Number One and heard it hit the glove with a satisfying thwack.

"Yeah-yeah, Benny," called Yeah-Yeah from the dugout. "You're makin' this too easy for her!"

Benny scowled and relaxed into the batter's box again. He hit me a double hop on the grass, and I let it hop until it came up to my chest, and then I scooped it out of the air.

"That was really hard," I said, lazily flicking it into Timmons Number One's glove. "C'mon, just say it already. 'Jamie can play baseball.'"

"Nuh-uh," said Ham, yanking the mask off his face. "I'm not admitting that yet. You still have to bat."

"Okay," I said, shrugging. I tossed my glove to the side and went to the pile of bats on the ground, testing each one that seemed right for my height and weight. Then I went up to the batter's box and dug in, playfully winking at Ham, who just glowered up at me in return.

"Come on, DeNunez," said Ham from underneath his catcher's mask. "Put it right here, right here!"

DeNunez went into his stretch, and fired the ball right down the middle. Bad mistake.

"Oomph," I mumbled as I hit the ball soaring for the outfield. I loved down the middle pitches; they were so easy to hit. "There it goes," I said, shielding my eyes with my hand. "Better luck next time, gentlemen."

Smalls retrieved the ball from the brush near the gate and threw it in to Yeah-Yeah, who was back at his position. Yeah-Yeah threw it to DeNunez, and he got ready to throw another ball.

I relaxed into my batter's stance again and flicked my fingers on and off the handle -- it relieved stress. I watched DeNunez go into his stretch, watched the ball fly over his shoulder and come hurtling towards me -- a sinker. Great. I swung and missed. I hated sinkers with a passion, and I scowled when Ham smirked at me from beneath his mask. I dug back in, scraping the dirt with my All-Stars angrily. For some reason, I got really mad when it came to missing a pitch.

Can someone say perfectionist?

We went through this for fifteen more pitches. My arms felt strangely like Jell-O, and sweat was beading my hairline and trailing down my back. The sun was beating down hard on us, and the boys were starting to complain.

"C'mon, Ham, give it a rest," shouted Benny from the outfield. There was an evident frown on his face. "She looks tired. Stop, man." He started taking his glove off.

I looked at Ham. "Yeah, Hamilton," I said, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction in the pit of my stomach when he grimaced at his name. "I'm tired and I'm thirsty. We've been doing this for, what, an hour? Not even you can be in the box for twenty pitches in a row."

I mean, of course a pro can. But that's a pro. And I'm a kid. I can't stay in there for so long without a break.

He stood up and ripped off his mask. "You giving up?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not a chance, tubby," I said, scowling. "Just give me a ten minute break to at least get something to drink."

He jabbed his glove into my stomach, though not roughly. "Ten minutes."

I tossed the bat to the side, careful not to hit Ham (although secretly I wished I did hit him) and jogged to the dugout. Salvation! I saw a cooler perched on the edge of the bench and I popped the top, taking out a bottle of Coca-Cola. It was in the vintage glass bottles, the kind you could only get during Christmas back where I'm from. I twisted open the top and guzzled at least half of it before the others made it to the dugout.

"Jamie, pass me one?" Yeah-Yeah stretched his hand out to me, and I gave him a bottle.

Everyone got a Coke and sat around in the shade, drinking and talking. I found out that they were all in the same grade, except for Smalls and Timmons Number Two. They were going into seventh grade, meanwhile the rest of us were going into eighth. They talked about girls and baseball, baseball and girls, and baseball and Benny. Which I found funny, because who talked about their friends?

"Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez?" I said, after they told me about his nickname. I shifted a little on the bench -- sitting on hard wood too long made my tailbone ache. I took another sip of Coke, as well, swilling it around in my mouth before swallowing.

"Yeah-yeah," said Yeah-Yeah. "He's like, the most famous guy this side of the Valley!" A bit of pride shone in his eyes.

Benny shook his head. "No way, man. I just outran --"

"It was the Beast," said Squints, his glasses sliding down his nose as he sat forward. Excitement edged his voice and he said, "The biggest, meanest, evilest thing that ever lived!"

"I thought we settled this," piped up Smalls. He hiccupped a little -- the soda must've reacted with his stomach. "The Beast wasn't the evilest thing that ever lived. He's actually really nice."

"Wait," I said, interrupting any other conversation that was going to follow Smalls' comment. "Who -- or what -- is the Beast?" I had a bad feeling about this. The bottom of my stomach constricted a bit when Squints leaned forward, his eyes glinting mischievously from behind his glasses.

"The Beast was, like I said, the evilest, nastiest, meanest, biggest dog you could ever lay eyes on," he said. He smiled, showing his big front teeth. "He lived behind that fence --" he pointed to the green, metal fence that bordered the outfield "--And he ate anything and everything."

"Aw, Squints, don't scare her," said DeNunez.

"He ain't scaring me!" I said, folding my arms and glaring at DeNunez. "My friend Joey could tell way scarier stories than something about a big dog."

"Who's Joey?" said Ham. He smirked. "Your boyfriend?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Benny shift uncomfortably on the other bench. I also saw Yeah-Yeah smack him with his glove because he was moving around so much. Trying hard not to smile, I said, "No. He's my friend."

"Besides," said Squints with a shrug. "He ain't there no more. Old man Myrtle's on a vacation. He took the dog with him." He picked up his bottle, stood up, and stretched. "Who's ready to play some more baseball?"

We scattered around the field, Benny heading for the batter's box. I headed to the outfield, in left field. I opened and closed my glove a few times, making sure that it was still supple and easy to open.

"Jamie!" shouted Benny. "Throw to second!"

His voice was followed by the crack of his bat, and the ball soared towards me. Well. Behind me. I started running, keeping an eye on the flying piece of white leather. I reached up with my glove, not seeing the sparse bush right in front of my face. I caught the ball, and then tripped over the bush, landing on my back with a face full of dust.

I raised my gloved hand, showing Benny I had the ball. I stood up, coughing a little from the dust, and brushed myself off. My jeans were properly stained, now, and my back felt sore. I gripped the ball and chucked it to Bertram, who was patiently waiting for me to throw it in.

"Way to go, Jamie!" shouted Smalls as I jogged back to my position. After his shout of praise, the rest of the team followed en suite. "Yeah, Jamie!" and "Atta girl!" followed, though the latter was called rather awkwardly.

I grinned. I definitely had a full summer ahead of me.