A/N: GUYS I UPDATED. Y'all should definitely thank my winter break. No homework, no sports, just lots of writing time. I mean, two chapters in a week? How great is this?

caught-offsides: Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad you liked the chapter! Enjoy!

chickenleg718: You know what...I'll think about it but I think Benny would have to be a little older. Although I'm not completely sure what you meant by "and then phillips could take him over." Take over for Benny in the game? Because...I'm not sure I would allow that. But I really like the quote and the idea, and I'll probably use it sometime, whether in those exact circumstances or not. I'm thinking maybe towards the end...or in a sequel if I end up doing one. I'm not sure about the sequel yet...I'm just thinking about it. Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing, and enjoy the chapter!

The Starkiller: It IS kickass. THAT is a kickass name. Haha I think its cool that you're into sci-fi. My brother likes Star Wars a lot, so your comment made his day. LOL thanks for the review! Hope you like this chapter!

hockeychick19: I believe you. You even seem awesome over computer, and that can't be easy. And I UPDATED JUST FOR YOU! Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

kmp: Thanks! And I'm glad you liked the chapter. Thank you for reviewing, and here's your update! Enjoy!

And finally...I'd like to give a shout-out to mah favorite person EVA...DarkestShadow98. I'm not exactly sure what happened to her...she reviewed chapter 3 and kept reviewing, keeping me motivated until chapter 8. She hasn't reviewed the last two chapters (I'm afraid something awful has happened...jk) but if you're reading, DarkestShadow98, I hope you know that you're awesome, and that sometimes I go back and read your reviews for motivation. I don't really care if you never review again because you've already given me more motivation through your reviews and your loyalty than I could have ever hoped for when I started this story. You rock, and I love you! I think I've been writing more than usual in the hopes that you'll see one of these alerts in your email and read my silly story and revi-...wait...is this your evil plan? It may be working. Anyways, you're awesome! And thanks for everything you did!

READ ON!

Kitty POV

Sitting alone in my room is probably not the best way to spend the 4th of July, but it'll have to do.

My uncle's throwing his annual 4th of July party and he invited all his friends from New York. And all the Dodgers players. And, worst of all, the guys he watches the baseball games with.

I tried to explain everything to him. My uncle, I mean. I really tried. I told him all about the way he shouts at me and how his friends beat me to the ground and try to rape me or something in drunken movements. And I told him how Benny saved me. But then he looked up at me; his eyes were so broken. My mom, his sister, was his everything. He's never been married because I guess he's too in love with his job. I think he would hate himself if he did anything to hurt the only piece of her left.

So he says to me, "Please don't tell me I hurt you like they do."

I tried to keep my promise to Benny, I really did. But…I couldn't.

"No," I lied. "All you do is shout."

Uncle might be talking to his friends right now, but how should I know. I went to my room and locked the door. But he promised me they wouldn't come over for games ever again. He seems to think he can find new game-watching-buddies. He hid all the alcohol before they got here, which I guess is a step forward.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

A couple days after I talked to him, he turned to me over breakfast. "So…Benny…"

I could have slapped myself. Leave it to him to pick up on that. "Yes?" I answered as calmly as I could.

"You like him," he accused, smirking madly at me.

I grinned. "I better. He's my boyfriend." And with that, I ran outta the house, shouting a half-hearted "Bye!" as the door slammed shut. Uncle Dan hasn't mentioned it since, but every time I announce I'm going to the sandlot, he gives me this look, grinning with both eyebrows raised, and he gives me Dodgers things to give to him as presents and makes him food for me to bring to the sandlot. He's trying to get Benny's family to come over for dinner sometime, and he's even the one who had me tell Benny about his new nickname.

Apparently, the day after the Benny-conversation happened, Uncle Dan went to check up on "his boys," which is what he calls his team. And then, if you can believe it, he asked them about Benny. According to Uncle, they've all dubbed Benny "The Jet." I told Benny about it, and Benny was probably more thrilled about it than you can imagine.

"It's cuz of the stolen base," I explained, referring to the time he stole home. "They think you're like this god of baseball sent to teach them your secrets. Or something."

So maybe I exaggerated a little.

Maybe.

I look out at the fireworks and the block party a couple streets over and shake my head. No way I'm missing a block party.

I sprint downstairs, locating Uncle almost immediately, saying 'hello' to some of the Dodgers players I saw on my way over. "I'm gonna go check out the block party," I tell him as I grab my coat.

Kissing my cheek, he replies, "Alright, but be back before 12."

I told him I would and head out the door, beginning to trudge down the empty street in the cold. I'm about a block away from the party when someone - make that two someone's - run up from behind me, each grab one of my hands, and continue pulling me in the same direction, but at a run.

I'm nearly pulled off my feet, but manage to catch my balance and ask, "What the hell?" Then I realize I recognize the back of one of the heads. Benny. I look to the other and see that it's Scotty. "You tryina kill me, Rodriguez?"

Scotty barks out a laugh, and Benny turns and runs backwards while Scotty slows down to barely-a-jog to accommodate. Benny stares at me incredulously. "It was his idea!" he complains. He points at Scotty, who tosses me an apologetic smile.

"I don't really care whose idea it was! Just…slow down. I wanna see the party." Both boys begin to walk next to me as I look around at the block party.

There are dads in aprons grilling hotdogs n' burgers on their barbeques serving little children, who, in addition to the food, are clutching some "Red Devil" fireworks, waiting for the sun to finally set completely. The moms are pouring iced tea, chatting and gossiping away happily, pausing every once in a while to kiss their husbands on the cheek when they pass the grill. It's everything a 4th of July party should be.

Benny, Scotty, and I catch up to the gang eventually, including Ham, who's holding a hotdog in each hand. That's disgusting, I think as I watch him scarf them both down like he's dyin' or something.

Unfortunately, we can't stay. "Nightgame," Benny explains. "Only one a year, on the 4th of July. We play 'til they stop shootin' off fireworks." So, I grab a burger from one of the grills and we all march off just as someone lights up a whole row of fireworks.

Dads and kids all rush to the curb while the moms just smile and keep talking. I stop as I watch the fireworks explode into beautiful little lights in the dark sky.

I've always loved fireworks. Something about them just seems…magical. The way they light up the sky is unbelievable. And I can prove they're magical; I've seen pictures of fireworks at Disneyland in the papers sometimes. Even through the black and white pictures, the fireworks are breathtaking. And besides, Disneyland's the most magical place in the world, so they wouldn't have fireworks unless they were truly magical, right? I've always wanted to go to Disneyland on 4th of July, but Uncle always throws a party. Hell, I've always wanted to go to Disneyland period, but Uncle's busy and I guess I don't need to.

But someone else must think fireworks are as beautiful as I do, right?

Sighing, I realize that it doesn't really matter as long as they still manage to take my breath away. I'm kind of crazy like that. I've seen fireworks lotsa times, but I just can't get enough of them. I don't know if it's because they only come once a year or if it's just because the lights are so pretty, but every time I see them it's like the first time I saw the lights all over again.

I don't know how long I stood there, transfixed by the colors, but when I finally looked back down, I was alone and the boys were nowhere to be found. Shaking my head, I start towards the sandlot. I wrap myself tighter in my coat, feeling oddly cold now that I'm no longer distracted by the fireworks. Or Benny.

When I get to the sandlot, though, I'm enchanted. I'm enchanted because everyone is staring at Benny. Because there stands Benny at home plate, his bat slung second-naturedly over his shoulder, fireworks exploding behind him…he looks like a professional ball player.

You know when it's dark and there's a light behind someone and all you can see is a dark outline? Well, that's it. All I can see is a dark outline of my beautiful Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez with his bat, and I can't help but think that I wish I had camera. Because this moment is more magical than the fireworks.

He looks beautiful; like a real baseball player under the lights. This kid really is going to be part of the big leagues someday. I can feel it.

Benny POV

Once the fireworks started, that's our cue. The whole team begins to sprint towards the field and I sprint ahead, assuming Kitty can take care of herself.

Yeah, I was wrong.

One we get to the field, we all take our positions and, like always, I glance over to Kitty's usual spot and grin, but my grin falters almost immediately. Because she's not there.

"Where's Kitty?" I ask, just loud enough to be heard above the fireworks. The boys all swivel to look at Kitty's spot and shrug.

"I dunno," Bertram mutters. "Let's just play, though." I shake my head. She's missing! How am I the only one who cares?

Ham seems more pissed than worried. "Dammit, Kitty," he complains. "You were right behind me." DeNunez grins, but shakes his head.

"C'mon, Benny-man. She knows where we are. She can figure it out."

"But what if she was kidnapped?" I complain.

Timmy snorts. "Yeah, right, man. Who's gonna kidnap her?"

"Who's gonna kidnap her?" Repeat…well…repeats.

"I don't know!" I pout. No one takes anything seriously. They don't take baseball serious enough and they don't take missing person cases serious enough. "A Yankees fan?"

Smalls stares at me. "She probably just got distracted, Benny! She'll be here later!"

"Yeah, yeah! She's smart! But these fireworks ain't gonna last forever."

Yeah-Yeah's words hit me. We only got the fireworks for a couple hours. We gotta play baseball. Baseball. And somehow, that's all it takes to distract me from the case of the missing Kitty. She'll show up eventually.

Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that damn, Rodriguez. You are an awful boyfriend.

But its baseball, so it's hard to care.

The whole team plays hard for a while, throwing snap throws, catching basket catches, and snatching grounders. Benny cherishes this time, before they all get caught up with the fireworks, because it's just really good baseball.

Everybody plays better on the nightgame; we play like we did at Dodger Stadium. We play like a well-oiled machine. I guess the lights make us feel like we're in a huge stadium, playing amongst the legends.

I have a theory that we beat the Dodgers because of that feeling. They're used to it. They're used to the feeling of playing on a perfect field under some huge lights with professional equipment. But we aren't. We fix up the sandlot on the first day of summer with broken tools that out parents and our neighbors don't have any use for anymore, we sure as hell don't have stadium lights, and we play with splintering bats, beat up gloves, and a, more often than not, baseball we conned people into paying for.

So it was special for us, like an adrenaline rush. I know we wouldn't be able to beat the Dodgers if both of our teams had the same circumstances. Hell, we're just kids. But we beat them because…honestly because we felt like we had to. We had to impress them, had to impress our heroes.

That's the secret, though. If you imagine the big-times. That's what got me so good at baseball. As long as you imagine the lights, the confidence comes and you can do just about anything. Soon enough, the lights came naturally.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. Time for baseball. I knock the dirt from my worn-out sneakers with my bat before twirling the bat, winking at DeNunez. I cock the bat back and coil around my back leg, waiting for the pitch.

DeNunez throws me a fastball, and I crank it out to left field. Just as the ball connects with the bat, more fireworks explode above us.

Damn. The boys are officially lost. They start to stare and marvel at the fireworks, and I watch the ball land near Smalls. Rolling my eyes, I turn to look at the entrance, hoping Kitty will walk up soon.

No sooner than I think this, Kitty walks up and, for some reason, stops dead. She's just staring at me…it's kinda uncomfortable. She's just…staring…did I do something wrong?

But soon enough, Smalls throws the ball to DeNunez and the game is back on.

The game goes on for a while. But DeNunez pitches the ball and I crank it out to the fence just as the last firework light dies out. It's nearly midnight, so we wait for the next round of fireworks to light up the field so we can find the ball and keep going, but the next round of fireworks never comes.

So we leave the ball, hopefully it'll still be there tomorrow. But with the streetlights off, we quickly discovered that there's no way home. It's pitch black.

"The streetlights are usually still on…" I mutter, barely making out the people around me.

Kitty stomps her foot. "Don't matter if they're 'usually' on. I was supposed to be home by midnight."

"Street lights turn out at midnight," Ham points out. "You already missed that one."

"You want my uncle to get more mad?" she snaps. Ham shakes his head. Suddenly, Smalls speaks up.

"If you wanna borrow my flashlight..."

Everybody's head snaps towards Smalls. "You brought a flashlight?" they ask incredulously.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "Mom made me. Turned out she was right."

I could tell that most of the time, this would incite some teasing, but it's dark and it's cold, and dammit I wanna go home. Or inside somewhere. Honestly, Mama doesn't expect me home, and neither does any of the other guys' moms.

We always just stay at one person's house after 4th of July, and all of our moms just have to cross their fingers and hope it isn't their house.

We all walk Kitty home while she laughs and play swats at our chests while we insist that it's to protect her, calling us 'such gentlemen!' She looks at me and pouts. "I'm cold," she announces.

So I wrap my arms around her and nuzzle my face in her chest.

"Yeah, right. Like that's gonna-" she starts to say, but stops short and instead tells me, "Woah…you're so warm…"

The boys all laugh as we reach her house, but we find her uncle sitting on the porch. "Ummm…damn."

Kitty POV

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Uncle asks.

I shrug, and reply honestly, "Not a clue." Benny's arms around me are tense, and I know he hasn't forgotten what he saw that night. But we have bigger problems, because something sparks in Uncle's mind and his eyes land on Benny.

"Run," I mutter.

But Benny just stares at me. "What?"

However, it's too late. Uncle Dan recognizes Benny. "This wouldn't happen to be Benjamin Rodriguez, would it?" he asks.

"Shoulda ran," I whine. Louder, I say, "Uncle Dan, you should probably go inside. It's cold out here." Uncle winks at me and walks inside. I turn around to see all the boys stifling laughter.

"Meeting the parents, huh 'Benjamin'?" Ham mocks. Benny twirls his baseball bat, though, and Ham shuts up.

"Speaking of parents," I cut in, "when are yours expecting you home?"

All the boys shrug. "Never."

"Perfect!" I grin and grab Kenny and Ham and begin dragging them towards the door. "Come on!" I open the door, and Uncle's sitting at the coffee table reading the sports section of the newspaper. Typical.

"Hey, Uncle?" He looks up from his paper, and I put on puppy-dog eyes. Not that they're really necessary; Uncle Dan has been doing pretty much everything I want since I told him about that night. "It's really dark. And cold," I complain. He raises his eyebrows and gives me his go on look. "Can we all stay here? In the living room? Just for tonight," I add hastily. As long as we stay in the living room, he should have no problem.

He thinks about it for a minute, before relenting. "I guess they've taken care of you all summer," he mumbles, kind of miffed at not having found a good enough reason to say no. "But just remember…I'm right upstairs."

"Uncle!" I snap. "There's nine of them. What do you take me for?" Uncle shrugs and yawns.

"There's food in the fridge and baseball games on the VCRs. Kitty, you know where the extra blankets are. I'm gonna…I'm gonna go to bed," he calls as he walks off to his room.

The door slams shut and Ham turns. "Ummm…what the hell was that?"

"That was me avoiding an awkward confrontation between Uncle and Benny," I tell him, throwing pillows on the floor. I walk over to the closet and try to reach the top shelf where we keep the blankets. Unfortunately, I'm too short for that. "Little help?" I call to Benny, who, I might add, made his way directly to the VCRs. Naturally.

Benny laughs at my shortness (and me) and walks over. He puts his hands on my waist and counts, "1…2…3," before lifting me up. I grab the blankets and as he puts me down, I swat at him and throw the blankets at Ham's smirking face.

"You guys are so domestic it kills me," Ham mutters, throwing the blankets over the pillows. The second that's done, all the boys plop down on the pillows and stare at Benny and me.

"What?"

"Cut the crap," Bertram laughs.

"Yeah, yeah. Something happened."

Denial kicks in and Benny and I laugh nervously. "Excuse me?"

"Something you're not telling us."

We stop laughing and the boys stare at us intensely, deadly serious. Benny glances at me and I sigh. "Fine. Fine. Make room and I'll tell you."

The boys all rush to make room and Benny and I settle ourselves in. "Wait!" Ham announces. "We need popcorn."

"I'll go make some," Benny laughs, leaving me alone to fend for myself against a mob of story-wanting teenage boys. Damn you, Rodriguez.

"Umm…here's the thing," I tell them. I shut my eyes tight so I don't have to look at them and know I've kept this from them. "When the Dodgers have a game, my uncle invites friends over to watch it with him sometimes because he doesn't always feel like watching it from the stadium when it gets cold late at night. But his friends….are awful. They're actually terrible people. And they all get drunk because I guess sports and beers go together. And…when they get drunk enough…they hit me. And make passes at me. And…well, Benny followed me one night and got caught up in everything and, I mean, he saved me. That's why I took all of you to Dodger Stadium that one day…as a sort of 'thank you.'"

I open my eyes and each and every one of them has their mouth open wide. I don't realize I'm shaking until Kenny and Scotty crawl over and wrap me in a hug, quickly followed by the rest of the boys. They all pull away, and Squints asks, "Your uncle knows about this, though, right?"

Benny walks in with the popcorn and says, "Yeah."

But I shift away as he hands out the popcorn. "Not exactly…"

Benny's mouth, which had been previously stuffed with popcorn, falls open. He chews and swallows before hissing, "What do you mean 'not exactly?'" The boys all fall silent.

"Look," I sigh. "I told him about what his friends do and I told him about how he shouts at me. I just…left out one little detail."

"Little detail?" he seethes.

My face goes red and I turn towards him, looking him dead in the eye. "Okay, maybe not a 'little' detail, Benjamin, but I still ain't telling him. He doesn't deserve it, and he's put away the alcohol anyways, so what's it matter?"

Benny's jaw clenches and he stays silent for a long time, but finally, he nods. "Fine. But this ain't over," he tells me icily. I hang my head, partly in shame and partly in fear. I can't lose Benny.

It gets kind of awkward for a while after that, but Benny shakes his head and wraps an arm around me to tell me that while he's disappointed, he's not really mad. Desperate for a change of subject, I ask, "So...how long have you boys been playing together?"

Benny grins. Back to baseball, I think. "Most of us have been playing together since grade school, but like, Smalls only came this summer."

"Really?" I ask. Then again, it was sort of obvious. I really didn't pay much attention at the beginning…

"Oh yeah," laughs Scotty. "Lemme tell you a story about that…"

The boys all stiffen. "No!" they protest, and I grin.

"I wanna hear the story," I announce.

The whole gang groans now because they know they've lost. "Alright," Benny grins. "Let's hear that story."

Scotty grins. "This story is not particularly flattering to me. Or anyone really. But I think you'll like it," he crows. All the boys groan again as Scotty launches into his story.

**Flashback**

The boys were all playing baseball, and Scotty was spying on them. Suddenly, the gang hits a ball straight towards him, and Scotty looks up just in time. He throws his arms over his face and ducks, which, of course, is social suicide among baseball players.

The ball beans him at the glove covering his head, and Scotty falls back on his butt. The ball rolls a bit and comes to an "I-dare-you" stop right up against the diseased fiberglass panels of a preternatural fence. Scotty pulls his arms away from his face, and the gang laughs uproariously.

"Nice catch!" Timmy mocks.

"Nice catch!" Repeat laughs.

From the catcher position, Ham shouts, "Hey! Throw the ball back!"

"Yeah, yeah, hurry up!"

"We gotta a game here, man!" Bertram complains.

Scotty moves for the ball. As he goes, he sweats. "'Kay, I'll get it!" he assures them before mumbling to himself, "Don't be a goofus - don't be a goofus - don't be a goofus." He reaches the fence and the ball and stops. The ball's hard to move. The force emanating from the backyard has got him, and a cloud of dust through the fiberglass keeps perfect time with the monster-breathing. Scotty didn't know it at the time, but it was the Beast breathing. Scotty snatches up the ball and back-pedals 10 feet.

"We're waiting..." Squints calls.

Scotty throws back the ball, and his chances of getting in with these guys are over. The ball droops forward in the air and lands 6 feet from him. It rolls slowly up to the gang, finally coming to a dainty stop at DeNunez' feet. The boys look from the ball to Scotty and start to crack up. Poor Scotty walks away in tears, and says to himself, "My life is over."

**End Flashback**

Kitty glares at all the boys, who refuse to look her or Scotty or even Benny in the eyes. "Well, damn," she says. "Some people are just born jackasses."

"Well, you didn't hear about what happened after Smalls left," Squints squeaks, and Benny grins.

"I'm glad you mentioned that. All right, Kitty, the story gets better. Smalls, you've heard the story. Why don't you tell it? You've done good so far."

Scotty smiles at Benny, and then continues with his story.

**Flashback**

It turns out someone was on Scotty's side. Benny's the only one not laughing, and he stares the whole gang down until they quiet down.

"Come on, Benny-man," DeNunez complains. "Didn't you see that throw?" Then DeNunez imitates the throw, flipping his glove to Ham. The boys all laugh again, and Ham is truly stunned.

"That kid has got the gaw'damned panty-waistiest arm I've ever seen," he crows.

Squints laughs. "I seen a guy that threw that bad once. I mean, not that bad, but bad enough that he hadda move in the fourth grade because everyone nicknamed him 'Bloomers.'" The boys lapse into another round of uproarious laughter, but the whole gang shuts up at the look on Benny's face.

Changing tactics, Benny challenges, "I bet not one of you knows how the Babe got his nickname."

"Easy," Ham boasts. "Cuz of the way he looked like a little kid face."

But Bertram immediately calls bullshit, adding, "It's just cuz he liked little kids and stuff."

"Wrong. The Babe was called the Babe because he was like the child of Yankee Stadium," Squints protests matter-of-factly.

"I knew it," Benny snaps, glaring at the boys. "You're all full of crap. George Herman Ruth got his nickname because his mom died when he was just a little kid, and he hadda go live in the orphanage," Benny explains. The other boys keep deadly quiet because none of them have ever heard this before. And Benny's never wrong. "Nobody liked him there," Benny continues. "The bigger guys picked on him all the time. And he couldn't fight back when they messed with him, cuz he was just…like scared. So when they messed with him, he cried about it." There's a beat, and Benny finishes his story by telling them, "He cried…so they called him The Babe."

None of the boys say a word, because this hits home real good.

"How ya think that kid just felt?" Benny demands. Then Benny just leaves the sandlot; there's no lost baseball, no dimming lights, and no heat stroke. Benny just…leaves. But he leaves the other boys with a lesson learned.

**End Flashback**

"It was the first and last time I've ever seen Benny just leave the sandlot like that," Ham recounts. "The only time in his life he didn't wanna play baseball no matter what."

Benny grins, but the boys aren't done yet. "Yeah, yeah. I mean, we all just went home after that. Our moms were askin' us about who died to make us come home early. That was the most worried I had ever seen them."

I narrow my eyes at them, annoyed with what they did, but I can't help but ask, "Why didn't y'all just keep playin' with seven?"

"Look," Kenny sighs. "Everyone knew Benny was different. I mean, we've never voted or anything, but Benny's the leader." I see Benny shrug, apparently agreeing with DeNunez.

"Humble, too," I mutter, but the story's not over.

"We followed him with like a block between us when we went home," Squints recalls. "We was afraid that if he saw us, he would chase us down the street with his baseball bat."

"Benny might seem like a normal guy," Timmy shrugs, "but he ain't. He's special."

"He's special," agrees Repeat.

Munching on his popcorn, Bertram adds, "Loyal, too. When we'd all tried out for youth league a while back, we'd all made it. But when we found out we'd haveta play for different teams, Benny said that if we couldn't play together, then we shouldn't play at all. So we stayed together. And look at us! We're still playin' and we're still together. That's why we're best buddies for freakin' life."

I grin, but none of the boys are meeting my eyes yet. They're still staring at their popcorn. "You guys are the best," I tell them, and they look up in surprise. "I still don't like what you did, but you got past that," I remind them. "But you're the best friends I coulda hoped for when I moved here. And for the record, you're all pretty loyal."

All the boys smile hesitantly at me, and Benny pulls me into his lap, smiling into my hair. I grab some of his popcorn as he whispers into my ear, "Y'know, you're kinda the best thing ever, too. And…look, you don't have to tell your uncle. Unless he brings the alcohol back out," he compromises. I feel my insides get all warm and fuzzy like they've been doing a lot since I met Benjamin Rodriguez.

"Thanks," I whisper back, kissing his cheek. I knew I picked the right boy to fall for.

Ham, probably to retain a sense of normalcy, complains, "Ewww! It's like watching your parents kiss. Would you guys cut it out?"

And for once, I can't find it in myself to get mad at him. I glance at the clock, and it's just past 1:30 am, so, once we finish off the popcorn, we all lie down and fall asleep pretty much immediately.

And I dunno about the rest of the guys, but, as I lay on Bneny's chest, I dream of that day at the sandlot, the first day I met them, and nine of the best friends a girl could ask for. The whole dream doesn't make much sense, but those are the main things I could pull from it. But you can probably figure it out.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Reviews will be rewarded by an increase in your awesomeness level.