The Sandlot Boys (FEM x-reader)

Confessions and Discoveries

A/N: Before this chapter officially starts I want to say thank you all so much for the reads and all the nice and funny comments! I have been in such a rut when it comes to ideas for the story so it took me forever to even get the chapter started. So I am very sorry for how long it took me to update. Also, so much has happened recently as well as me being sick in bed for about a week and a half. So fun, right?! 

Anyways, thank you all again for all the love on this story! Hope you enjoy it and love you all lots! <3

Y/N's POV

"Y/N! BOYS! CAN YOU GUYS UH GET DOWN HERE?" 

Surprised at the sound of a voice, my eyes flutter open. I sit up with a groan and yawn as I look around at the sight of seven boys still dead asleep on the floor. I stand up with a slight wobble in my knees and make my way over to Bertram's little make-shift sleeping bag. 

"Bertie, wake up! C'mon wake up man!" 

"Y/n I swear to god-!"

"I think Mrs. Timmon's is calling for us."

"So? She probably just made breakfast."

He says still laying with his eyes closed. Tiredly, I push him to get his attention. 

"What??"

He groans.

"Do you remember what happened last night? Or do you want me to slap you to help jog your memory?"

"Last night was the Halloween Bash." 

"Exactly."

"Shit!"

"Exactly."

He pushes himself up so I move a bit to give him space. He rubs his eyes before taking a look around the room. He stumbles around the treehouse as he tries to make his way to the shelves. He starts digging through all the stuff before pulling out a blow horn. 

"You might want to cover your ears."

I do as he says just before he presses the button. All the boys jump up in fright. 

"What the hell man?"

"Are you serious!?"

"Jesus, Bertram!"

"Man, it's just Bertram."

"I'm going back to bed!" 

"No, you are not!"

"Yeah? And why's that Y/n?"

"First, Squints, your attitude is up here." 

I say motioning above my head. 

"And I need it to be down here."

I say pointing at the ground. He rolls his eyes but, waves his hands signaling me to continue. 

"Secondly, I woke up to Mrs. Timmons calling for us. Last time I checked, her nine-year-old son is in his bed with a bruised face. I, also, cannot walk down there looking like this without an explanation."

"Oh. That is a problem." 

"Really??" 

"Well you could just say that you got hit with a baseball by some-" 

"GUYS?! I REALLY NEED YOU DOWN HERE!" 

"Just say you got hit by some amateur at school a couple times."

Ham rushed out his idea as all of us scrambled down the steps. I stood in the back behind Bertram, while Timmy talked to his mom. She would never believe that.