The Sandlot was empty when you arrived, your old baseball glove tucked under your arm and a bat slung over your shoulder. You'd moved to town last week, and while you didn't know much about the neighborhood yet, one thing was clear-this dusty little field was the heart of it.

You dropped your bag near the pitcher's mound and looked around. It was nothing fancy-just a patch of dirt and grass with makeshift bases and a weathered backstop. But to you, it felt like home already. Baseball had always been your escape, the one thing you could count on no matter where you lived.

You adjusted your cap and took a deep breath before stepping up to the plate. Gripping the bat tightly, you tossed a ball into the air and swung, the satisfying crack of wood meeting leather echoing in the stillness.

"Not bad," a voice called out. You jumped, spinning around to see a boy leaning casually against the fence. He was about your age, with a confident grin and a Dodgers cap perched backward on his head.

"Sorry," he said, holding up his hands. "Didn't mean to scare you. I just didn't expect to see anyone else here this early."

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I just moved here. Figured I'd get some practice in before school starts."

The boy stepped onto the field, his grin widening. "You play?"

"Yeah," you said, lifting your chin. "I'm not bad." He laughed, not in a mean way, but like he was genuinely impressed. "I'm Benny," he said, extending a hand.

You shook it, feeling a little more at ease. "(Y/N)."

"Well, (Y/N), you've got a nice swing," Benny said, nodding toward your bat. "Mind if I pitch to you?"

You hesitated for a second before nodding. "Sure. Let's see what you've got."

Benny jogged over to the mound, grabbing a ball from your bag. He took his time, winding up before sending a fastball straight toward you. You swung hard, sending the ball flying deep into left field.

"Whoa!" Benny exclaimed, turning to watch it land. "Okay, you weren't kidding."