Author's note: I own none of the characters besides my own OC, Sally.
It was a sunny summer morning in the Valley. There was a light breeze, but it was perfect for a day like this. I loved these types of days, because it's something in the middle; not too hot, not too cold. We had finally moved in to the new neighborhood, and we'd adjusted to the weather and now the new house. Of course, not everything was unpacked and clean.
I'm Sarah Santorelli, or Sally for short, and I preferred to stay inside. I was booksmart, and I loved to solve puzzles. I've always aspired to become a detective! In other words, I'm exactly the opposite of my twin, yes, twin, Tommy. He's always been the one to play outside and compete in every single sport. Actually, not every sport, just baseball. He loved the game. It's practically his life, whereas I know absolutely nothing about it.
But anyways, it was shaping out to be a good summer day. A new book, a new haircut, and time to myself-."
"Sal! Can you go check on your brother? He went out and he's been gone all morning." My mother asked.
"Sure thing, Mom." I groaned. I couldn't say no to her. I've always been goody-two-shoes Sal. I walked outside and hopped on my bike. I put my book in the basket attached to the front, and peddled away.
The Valley is homey. It's always so lively and interesting. I've never noticed it before, but maybe it's because I never go outside unless I want or need to; which isn't much.
Wait. Where would Tommy be anyway? I had to stop on the sidewalk and ask someone for directions to a place where kids play baseball. That's when someone with thick black glasses probably in his late 20s, told me about the sandlot. I followed his directions, but all I could think was: of course. A sandlot would be the perfect place for Tommy. He would play there every day if he could, I bet.
Eventually I reached the sandlot, and parked my bike. I grabbed my book and walked onto the baseball diamond. About seven boys were crowding around something, each of them trying to figure out what to do with "it".
"How far did he skid?" One boy asked.
"Four, five…" Another counted, walking from "it" to a bike laying on the ground.
"He looks bad." Another one added. "We should do something."
"Yeah, kick him!" Another boy laughed. "See if he's faking it!"
"Kick him? What are you, nuts?" That same boy asked.
"Yeah, nuts. Good idea. A kick in the family jewels, excellent fake breaker. That should wake him up."
"Bad idea on many levels! As a medical procedure, I think kicking is way down on the list of many prescribed remedies."
"Got a bad idea, Q?"
Then they argue about who is the captain and how they think they should wake "it" up. I can't listen to them squabble anymore.
"Hey, uh, guys! Have you seen Tommy?" I ask.
They all turn to face me, each one smirking. "Looking for your boyfriend, sweetheart?" One of them asks.
I roll my eyes. "Actually, he's my brother."
"Is this him?"
I walk over to them, and peer inside their circle. It's Tommy.
"What happened to him?" I shout, crouching to next to him. "What did you guys do?"
"It wasn't us!"
"Yeah, we just found him here. Probably fell off his bike or somethin'."
I sigh. Of course, Tommy. What an idiot.
"Look, guys, he's waking up!" Said the shortest one.
"We could still kick him before it's too late…" Adds the big one.
"Ask him a question everyone knows!" Another says.
Slowly, Tommy opens his eyes.
"Who is the greatest baseball players of all time?"
"What?" They ask. I even joined in too. He's only been playing the sport for what, like 4 years, and he thinks he's the greatest.
"And who are you?"
"Tommy Santorelli." He says matter-of-factly.
"Well I don't care if you're Steve Garvey. The answers Babe Ruth." The blonde one says. And might I say, I hate his attitude.
"The Sultan of Swat!"
"Hello the King of Crash!"
"The Colossus of Clout!"
"The Home Run King!"
"The great Bambino !" They all yelled.
"Who is that?" I mutter to myself. I'm glad no one heard it.
"No, it's Santa!"
"What?" We asked.
"Like Santa Claus?" One asked.
Right after, Tommy had passed out. Again.
"Perfect… how am I going to explain this to Mom?"
"Back up kids, clear out!" An officer yelled, running towards us. He stopped, gasping for breath, but he tried to look cool. "I'm trained for situations like this. Now who started it?"
They all pointed at him. "Gee, thanks guys." I rolled my eyes. Typical immature boys.
He crouched down, and pushed me to the side. "Let a professional deal with this."
He looked up at me, then the others. "Stand back boys… and little lady. I'm goin' in." He started to lean in, and that's when it struck me: he was going to give him mouth to mouth. We looked away in disgust.
But Tommy opened his eyes just in time, and squirmed away. "Hey, what's going on here?"
"Alright kids, give him some air." The officer yelled. "What happened?"
"He took a fly ball to the forehead. Sorry Uncle Chops." The big one said.
"It would have been a triple too if he hadn't screwed it up." A boy said. A bunch of 'Shut ups' soon followed.
"You guys should have been more careful." I add. "Now he's having trouble with his memory, thanks to you!"
"Hey, hey, hey! Are we going to have a situation here?"
"No…" I answered.
"Cause' we don't want a situation do we, huh?"
Everyone mumbled. "No."
"Good. What's your name, kid?"
"That kid is Tommy Santorelli." I answer.
"Who you calling kid?" He looked at the officer, then at me. "Sal?"
"Is that any way to talk to an officer of the law?" The officer questioned.
"Where's my PDA?"
"My blackberry?" He asked angrily.
The officer looked around, then grabbed the big one's snow cone. "Hey, that's mine!" He said defensively. "And it's not blackberry, it's strawberry banana!"
"Ooh, I love strawberry banana." He then takes a bite. The big one was obviously PO'd, but I found it rather funny.
"I think they're the new kids that moved down on Glen View Road." One kid adds.
I grin. "Yeah, that's us."
"What are you talking about? I live in Beverly Hills, and Sal here probably lives who knows where! I haven't seen her in years! And what's with this kid crap! Which one of you took my phone? I need to call my agent. And don't even think about autographs!"
"Why would we want your autograph?" Several kids complained. That's it. My brother is officially insane.
Tommy looks away for a second, then back to us. "1976…" He picked up the officer's shades and looked at his reflection. "What's goin' on?" He says, before he faints yet again.
"Yep, we got a situation here." The officer says.
"No kidding." I wonder what's wrong with him?