Sparkplug

Chapter One

     "Thanks, my family came from Chicago," I attempted to grin sheepishly, "I've gotta ask, who's your favorite player?" I asked hopefully. Maybe I could strike a conversation about something I have expertise in; baseball.

     "Man, tough call but Ron Janic," he scratched the back of his head, and he smiled slightly.

     My eyebrows shot up, I was too surprised at his answer.

     "He just needs to get back on his game is all," he said, shrugging, "I sucked last year for Stalls baseball, but I hit and caught my way through it and it all worked out. He's just got to get out of that mental mindset that he can't hit."

     It was my time to shrug. "I guess that's a pretty good reason, didn't think of it that way before."

     He just stood there for a second, leaning against the lockers until some girl came and laced her arm around his waist. She was wearing a very short skirt with a baby blue colored blouse. Her platinum heels out ranked my gym shoes by far and her blonde hair hung in curls that probably took forever to make.

In short terms, she looks like a sharply dressed girl with "style" and I look like a hobo.

     "Why're you hanging out with her?" she said loudly while smacking her gum.

     "Taylor, please leave me alone," he begged. Poor dude, having rude girls chase him around and try to change him. 'He’s a popular boy,' I thought with a sigh, 'that's how they are.'

     "I've got to go," I said quickly and quietly, putting my head down and walking out of school to the Sandlot by my house. Didn't want to see her flirt with him.

     Gosh, I'm being such a girl. Stop thinking about him.

     At the Sandlot, I saw Mike, Ryan, and Zac.

     "What's up Mel?" Mike yelled loudly before pitching the worst knuckleball in history. Mike Buan was definitely the character of the sandlot gang, which composed of him, Zac Prustalli, Ryan Garther, Matt Hunt, Joey Lovaski, Noah Fretter, Adam Sills, Drew Price, and me, Mel Bailey.

     We live pretty different lives, but somehow we all get together and play a beautiful game called baseball. I know I'm a girl, and trust me they knew it too. But when they turned to Drew Price, the honest and fair umpire of the Sandlot back when we were eight, he shrugged and said "let her play!"

Back to Mike being an idiot as usual. He lobbed a half-hearted ball right down the middle to Ryan Garther, one of the pitchers. Ryan swung, and sent the ball flying to what we deemed was home run distance. He circled the bases, and slid into home to rub it in Mikes face.

     "Dang, I'm not getting that!" Mike declared.

     "Dang nothing! I ain't getting it either!" Ryan yelled back, "Take the walk of shame!"

     Mike groaned loudly, and Ryan smiled crazily at me.

     I rolled my eyes, and plopped my stuff down in a little shack we made two summers ago.

     "Something wrong?" Ryan said while walking over and slinging his arm around my shoulder.

     "Nah," I said, shifting my weight nervously. Ryan always picks up on my emotions. Ugh, darn us knowing each other too well.

     He gave me a worried look while walking to the makeshift mound. I looked away.

     "Where is everyone?" I yelled into the Sandlot. I was met by an echo.