head over heels | benny rodriguez, the sandlot

| chapter twenty seven |

After a grueling twenty minutes in the dugout, Smalls finally returns with a ball.

"I got it!" Smalls heaves as he clutches the ball in his hands, extremely out of breath. "Let's play!"

The boy quickly tosses the ball over to Benny, who catches it with ease. "Bitchin'. Your ball, your ups."

We all get into our usual formation, Tommy subbing out for this game. Smalls, who happened to still be winded, stepped up to home base as DeNunez wound up his arm.

Smalls quickly got two strikes, along with several taunts from Ham and Squints about his awful aim.  I began to zone out around the third whiff. I mean, after all, it wouldn't be surprising if he missed again.

Yet a large "bang" drew me back into focus, as I watched the fresh ball fly straight over the wooden fence in a flash.

"Holy shit," I muttered under my breath as I stumbled back in awe.

"Nice crank, Smalls," Timmy shouted from the outfield as we all ran towards the new big leaguer.

Even DeNunez congratulated the boy, with a quiet, "Decent cut."

"It's outta here! Who's got the big bat now, boys!" Benny chuckled as he ran his palms through his sweaty hair.

But I couldn't help but notice the boy, now pale and petrified. Jogging over to him, I gave him a small shake. "Smalls, you're supposed to run. You good?" There was no response. I quickly hollered at Benny, who was at my side in seconds.

"What's up?" He mumbled to me.

"I think he's broken." I smacked the boy's cheek, yet he didn't even flinch. Soon, the rest of the boys have all huddled around in utter confusion.

Ham questioned, "What the hell is he doin'?", to which Bertram replied,

"Maybe the shock of his first homer was just too much for him,"

However, the boy began to sprint towards the fence, so we slowly followed. Smalls was now leaning up against the wall, trembling in fear with a lifeless look in his eyes.

"W-we gotta get that ball back," Smalls squeaked out as he melted onto the floor.

"Right! Good one, Smalls,"

Squints began to giggle, "Sure. We'll just hop over and say, excuse me Mr. Beast sir, could we have our ball back, oh, and please don't kill us while we're here!" I glanced over at Benny, who was already looking at me and rolled my eyes.

Benny sighed "It was a great shot, but forget about it... game's over. We'll get another ball."

"Yeah, don't worry bout it." I offered my hand out to help the boy get up, yet he didn't even acknowledge it.

"You don't understand." He cried out, lashing his hands against his face.

"Sure we do. You feel bad 'cause you belted a homer, and now we can't play no more."

Smalls continued to hyperventilate as he gathered his body tighter and tighter into a ball "No! You don't understand! THAT WASN'T MY BALL!" We all stepped back at that moment, even more confused than before.

"Whadda you mean it wasn't your ball?" Squints eagerly asked as he bent down next to Smalls.

"I-It's my stepdad's. I stole it from his trophy room. It was a present or something - somebody gave it to him. We have to get it back. He's gonna kill me!"

We all made a collective sigh before Squints continued, "Smalls... listen to me. This is a matter of life and death. Where did your old man get that ball?"