The Sandlot Boys (FEM x-reader)

Lunch Tables

The next Monday--

Y/N's POV

I feel my arm going limp after keeping it in the air for so long. Why can't she just call on me?? 

"Ms. Y/L/L. Is there something you would like to contribute to the conversation?" 

Ms. Jones, my fourth-period teacher, finally calls on me after "accidentally" skipping over my outstretched hand for the past five minutes. 

"While the ongoing conversation seems just riveting! I was actually wondering if I could use the restroom." 

"I don't see why not..." 

"Great! Thank you." 

"... You can go after you share a piece of information about our current lesson with the class." 

Damn it! I was so close. I could feel the bathroom handle on my fingertips and OH! Oh no! There it goes, back into the abyss of dreamland.  

"A piece of information about our lesson? Pfft... what should I choose? I mean there is so much to choose from. What to share about exponents? Ummm... y=mx+b...?"

Ms. Jones narrows her eyes at me as the quiet chitter of giggling infiltrates the silence. 

"Wrong lesson, Y/L/L. But, you're standing over there hopping around like a fool so I'll allow you to go now. Remember to grab the pass on the way out." 

Oh, thank Jesus. I rush out of the classroom remembering to grab a pink slip on the way out and rush for the bathroom. When rushing into a room, you don't take a lot of time to check your surroundings. But, when I exit that stall I realize immediately I probably should have. 

"Y/N."

"Michelle."

I glance at her in the mirror while reaching for the soap. She seems to be applying lip gloss and fixing her infamous blonde curls. She meets my gaze and lets out a sigh before dropping the facade. 

"Look Y/N- I'm sorry. Ok?" 

"What? Do you think that this will help get Benny back, 'cause I don't know if you heard or not, but we're not on really great terms with him either." 

She spins towards me with a  defeated glint in her eyes. 

"I'm not doing this for Benny. I'm doing this because I feel bad." 

I almost scoff, but after taking one look at her I stop myself. I can see that she's at least trying here. If you can even call it that. I finish drying my hands and throw the paper towels into the trash before turning toward Michelle once more. 

"Thank you." 

With those words, I exit the bathroom and head back to class. 

At lunch--

"Guys, I'm not kidding she apologized to me." 

"No way!" 

Kenny says waving me off with his fork. The boys share the same expression, except for Smalls. 

"Honest?"

"Honest, Smalls!" 

He smiles lightly and then goes back to eating his lunch and the entire table falls into a comfortable silence. That is until we see a bunch of boys walk up to us. 

I lift my head and am met with a familiar sandy-haired boy. He smiles at me and then at all of us before stepping aside, inevitably showing the rest of the guys from the Tigers team. 

"We were, uh wondering if we could sit with you guys?" 

I take a look around at the table that the eight of us are already squished on. 

"I- We don't have a lot of room on this table, but I do think I have an idea if you could maybe help me...?" 

"Of course, Y/N."

I smile back at Jordan and move toward one of the empty tables and start to push it toward ours. The other boys seem to get the hint and get up moving any of the empty tables into a big circle that's connected with one another. Bertie leaves a space next to him open for a special someone and I leave a space next to me in case someone else feels like showing up today. 

When the tables are finally settled we all sit down and resume lunch as if there was never an issue to begin with. I don't forget to note the amount of shock that's running throughout the student body at this moment, but right now, it's not important. 

"Hey, guys! Hey, Bertram." 

Lisa skips over to us excitedly greeting us all and giving a little extra focus to the guy she's obviously crushing on. Bertram silently scoots over and lets her know that there's some extra space next to him if she wants to sit down with us. She gladly accepts and sits down, maybe even a little closer than necessary claiming "She's too close to the edge, she has to be this close or she might fall off.". It's total crap, but at least they're trying. 

The quiet chatter continues amongst us and the laughing spreads infectiously, until I feel a tap on my shoulder. When I turn around, the first thing I catch is a glimpse of jet-black hair. Then, I notice how his shoulders are stiff with anxiety. 

"Benny! I was hoping you'd come over here today." 

"Really?" 

He asks obviously skeptical. 

"Yeah, really?" 

Ham asks from across the table. I send him a look that says "Shut up, you idiot!". He puts his hands up in fake surrender but continues to eye Benny curiously. I scooch to my right a little to show that we can make room for him if he wants to sit down. He glances at the seat but not before looking at the rest of the table and feeling the obvious tension. 

"I don't know..." 

Benny mumbles and sways on his feet. I look around at all the kids and stand up. 

"Look. I invited Benny to sit with us. If any of you guys have a problem with that... I don't really care. Shut up and take it for the next fifteen minutes of lunch!" 

I look out at the two teams just to make sure that they understand what I'm saying. 

"Great! Now, let's try that again. Hey, Benny, why don't you come sit with us today? Ah! Look at that there is room right next to me. Here let me move over for you. Guys? Don't you want Benny to sit with us?" 

They all look at me with blank faces before I raise my eyebrows expectantly. 

"Oh- uh Yeah!" 

"That would be great!" 

"Of course Benny boy!" 

"We would love that!!"

"WOOOOHOOOOOO"

We all turn at Tim questioningly. 

"What? I was trying to be excited." 

I shake my head, laughing while turning back towards Benny. I gesture towards the seat again and this time he accepts. Perfect! Now there are 10 minutes left of lunch and 2 hours left of school. All we need to do is get through lunch and our last couple of classes and then we can finally settle this at the sandlot.