Rosey’s P.O.V
“Please, Soda, pleaaaaaase!” I pleaded, looking at my brother with utter desperation.
He shook his head, “You’re grounded Rosey, you know that,” He said sternly, his hard eyes not faltering.
My face fell a thousand miles into depths and depths of sadness and misery. I felt my body start to shake, I wanted it so bad; baseball, I wanted to play it more than anything.
Soda looked at me sadly, noticing how broken and upset I looked. His brown orbs never left mine; he studied me, searching for something.
My eyes stung, and hot tears of frustration were forming (which never happens, like ever).
Soda seemed stunned, and he quickly started rebutting his decision. “Uh-Uh I guess one game wouldn’t-“
He couldn’t finish because I had been so excited I leaped forward and hugged him. It caught him off guard, but he quickly hugged back with the same affection.
I grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet, the happy animated smile never leaving my face. Soda looked pleased too, maybe just because we were getting along.
I looked around the room; everyone in the gang was there and they all had a pleased look on their faces.
“So,” I said, interjecting the all around delight.
“What’re the teams?” I continued. Pony practically knocked me over; he leaped up, grabbing onto my arm.
“I’m on Rosey’s team!” He yelled. Steve groaned.
“Why do you get to be on Rosey’s team?” He grumbled.
“Let’s make one thing clear,” Sadie interrupted.
“Rosey and Dal cannot be on the same team, that ain’t fair,” She finished. Dally and I smirked at each other.
“Yeah I don’t really want all your guys’ brutal murder on my hands,” Dally sneered.
“Hey, maybe Rosey’ll be a little rusty, it’s been a while,” Two-Bit added.
“Yeah, maybe,” I agreed. My smile grew wider.
Sadie’s P.O.V
“Ball!”
“Soda, you gonna throw me one I can hit?”
“You keep talkin’ like that you’ll be getting one the face,”
“You keep pitchin’ like that and I fear I will,”
“Why I outta!”
“We wanta pitcher not a belly itcher!”
“SHUT UP TWO-BIT!”
Two-bit smirked wildly from the back field; I was to the left of him.
Johnny was at back catch, Dally covering first and second, and Steve, third.
“Give ‘er a bloody slider, Soda,” Dally smirked.
Rosey was resting the bat against her shoulder, tapping her foot impatiently, and waiting for the next pitch.
The teams were me, Two-Bit, Sodapop, Steve and Dally against Johnny, Darry, Pony, Rosey and Summer.
They were as fair as they were gonna get.
Sodapop was the best pitcher out of all of us (besides Rosey, but she couldn’t really pitch the balls to herself) and he was faltering every pitch.
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