Fall ❈ Benny Rodriguez

xxiv. ok pal

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR!
OK PAL　M83

　

　

A LOUD CRACK broke through the quiet rustle of trees and birds' wings. All of the boys watched in thinly-veiled shock, as if they hadn't witnessed me hit better several times over.

　Their voices rang out in a chorus of "No!"s when I dropped the bat and took off for first. So distracted, no one had even gone for the ball; it shot into the outfield, nearly rolling into the brush, lacking the proper attention.

　Before I could even run halfway to the first base, Yeah-Yeah, who had taken first, shot out to meet me, palm raised in a halting gesture. "Stop running!" he insisted, forcing me to slow down. "You'll hurt yourself!"

　Yeah-Yeah met me and placed both hands on my shoulders; in him I could see the little boy he once was, despite how much he had grown and changed. I couldn't even be that angry.

　Right about now, I found myself wishing that I had never told the Sandlot Gang about the child inside of me. Their reactions were rather impressive: The usual initial shock, crumbling away into acceptance, slowly but surely. Still, the aftermath was the problem. They looked at me as some fragile crystal, as if anything could break me—especially baseball.

　"Come on, man," I groaned. "Running's not going to hurt me. Exercise is good for the baby."

　The boys, including Yeah-Yeah, did not look convinced.

　After the news had been delivered, the boys had demanded to know why I'd come to the sandlot with the intention of playing. They had practically tried to file a petition against it, had even gone as far as trying for an intervention. Even Benny was against it, though not as avidly—knowing how angry it would make me to stay out of the game and knowing how my insane hormones would saturate it, he knew it would not be a safe mixture.

　In the end, it had been thanks to Kenny and Bertram and my own fierceness that convinced the boys they would not keep me out of this game. Not even if they'd all rebelliously sat out of the game themselves. Eventually, after wasting over half an hour arguing, the boys had given up, and we'd begun the game.

　They did manage to force me into guarding a base, initially; and, to make it even better, they had intentionally tried to steer clear of hitting the ball my way. But they had not been able to fight me enough, and I'd ended up batting. They had held their tongues until just now.

　"Look, do you guys want to Google it?" I shouted, allowing my frown to sweep the entire diamond. "Running is okay for the baby. I can't do much, because I overheat easier now, but this isn't going to hurt me."

　Kenny shook his head, clearly as annoyed with the boys as I was. "Go back to base, Yeah-Yeah! Let's finish the game."

　Grudgingly, mumbling under his breath all the while, Yeah-Yeah turned and allowed me to follow him to base. Smalls has finally gone to retrieve the ball, but there was no danger in walking the rest of the way to first base; Smalls' reluctance especially ensured this. It was all so very annoying.

　The game continued in this manner for a few hours, before I really did have to take a seat at the dugout. While the boys did all that they could to keep my physical activity absolutely minimal—not even throwing the ball to the baseman I approached was now included in the long list—the sun's scorching rays were not gentle on my skin.