The Sandlot Imagines/One Shots

t i m m y • i m a g i n e

Timmy imagine for 50sThru90s

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"Hey Timmy," Sarah-Mae cooed alluringly to Timmy Timmons once the teacher turned around.

"Hi Sarah," Timmy replied blatantly and obviously uninterested.

"So," she said, extending the 'o' and tapping on her desk with her pencil. "Can you help me on number two?"

"Uh yeah," he answered, his mind on somewhere, or should I someone else. "You just square the radius multiply that by pi."

"Thanks," she said, biting her lip and playing with her long, brown curls, hoping to catch his attention. Everyone knew about her crush on Timmy, whom was the only guy she couldn't get.

"Yeah, sure," he replied.

"You know Chrissy doesn't like you anymore; she told me," she lied desperately with a straight face.

"What?" he looked up at her, shocked at what she just told him. "Why would she tell you? You're not even friends."

She shrugged. "I don't know but she told me in gym, aka sixth period, aka next period."

"But-"

"Timmy Timmons, is that you doing all the talking back there?" Mrs. Haynes questioned.

"No-"

"Shut up, the next time you talk back I will send you to the R.C.," she scolded.

"Sorry," he mumbled and continued his work until the bell rang.

He walked outside and spotted you talking to a tall, popular, muscular jock. You were laughing real hard and smiling hugely. Instantly he felt stress and a bit of jealousy course through his veins.

"Timmy!" you suddenly called, snapping him out of his trance.

He looked at the ground and walked passed you hurriedly.

"Timmy?" you asked and he walked by, but he ignored you.

Slowly, the school day ended and the final bell rang. You spotted Timmy again and ran after him.

"Timmy!" you called, grabbing his shoulder.

He turned towards you and brusquely asked, "What do you want?"

Taken aback by his tone and question, you let go of him and your determination faltered. "N-Never mind."

He scoffed and walked off, leaving you standing there feeling completely abashed.

You walked to the middle school to pick up your little brother, Scotty. He was only a year younger, but you attended different schools (he was in year 8 and you were in year 9.)

"What's wrong Chrissy?" he asked you, concerned.

"Nothing, it's just Timmy's mad at me but I don't know why," you explained, ignoring the seventh and eighth grade boys cat-calling at you.