Archive of Our Own ^beta

The summer of 1962 was supposed to be Mike Ross’s best summer yet. He had everything going for him that year. He lived right next door to his best friend, Trevor, and Mike finally had a proper allowance that let him get real items of value instead of having to rely on his best friend’s more questionably sourced income. 

Not only that, but Mike would no longer have to suffer the indignity of his father’s latest obsession with trying to get Mike interested in sports. The last one had ended with Mike in tears after being beat up by the other kids in his karate class. Trevor had finally shown up to walk him home and found him hiding behind the dumpsters. After that, Mike’s mother had told her husband that enough was enough. 

But then disaster struck near the end of the school year, and Mike had woken up to find his grandmother crying in the kitchen over a photo of his parents. They were gone. Killed by a drunk driver. 

Trevor begged and cried with Grammy to let Mike stay, but Grammy could no longer stomach the idea of living in New York where every corner she turned held a painful memory. She knew it was worse for her grandson, who never forgot things, even if he wanted to this time. 

She packed their bags into her old car and drove them out to an old house in a quiet little suburb of California. It took them days to make the trip, and Mike was quiet through most of it. But she hoped that this new town would help him start over. 

….

“Now, Michael, I want you to go out there and make some friends,” Grammy said to him. 

“I already have a friend, Grammy.”

“And he lives thousands of miles away from here. You can call him later. But for now, I want to see you out there and making an attempt.”

Mike groaned and pulled on his dad’s old hat - a Dodgers cap he had kept that looked ratty and worn. “You’re the one who made me move far away!”

“Michael,” Grammy sighed, taking a seat tiredly in the kitchen. “Please.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Mike almost slammed the door, but he loved Grammy too much to do it. He could tell she was upset as much as he was, and he couldn’t hurt her, as much as he was hurting too. 

He walked out of the house, trying to hate their neighborhood. In New York, everything was cramped and close together. In California, everything was wide and spread apart. Everyone had big colorful cars that took up large swathes of the street, the tops perpetually missing or folded down. He watched a few kids walking towards the main street, but they looked too young to want to interact with. 

With an irritated groan, Mike began walking down the sidewalk, scuffing his shoes and not paying attention to where he was. It was pretty difficult for him to get lost, since he had already glanced at a map on their way over to the house. All he had to do was look at the street signs now to know how to get back. 

Still, he had stopped paying attention and started focusing on idly kicking a can along the sidewalk, enjoying taking out his anger on it. 

The can rattled along and Mike kicked it further and further. And then he kicked it a little too hard and at the wrong angle, and it flipped up and hit a bigger kid in the back of the head. 

“Sorry!” Mike shouted at him instantly. 

The big kid turned and glared at him. “You’re going to pay for that, you little punk.”

Mike yelped, realizing that without Trevor his chances of surviving encounters with bullies had dropped substantially. “Oh my god! What the hell is that!?” he pointed behind the bully. 

The kid actually looked, and Mike ran, sprinting off to the side, across the street, and narrowly dodging a girl on a bicycle. She shouted at him as she wobbled by. 

“You’re dead meat!” the bully yelled behind him. 

Mike leapt a fence, ignoring the sharp rebuke of the woman sunbathing on the front lawn, and dashed through the open side yard through the back. He clambered over the fence there, the bully snagging at his shirt, but managed to wriggle out of the boy’s grasp and land in the alley behind the houses. Puffing, Mike sprinted through, and collided hard with a mailman, letters and packages flying up into the air in comical fashion. 

“I’m really sorry!” Mike said, and he scrambled to his feet and heard the mailman run into the bully just as he got back up. 

His lungs burned, but he kept running, pushing hard to outrun the bigger kid. A clothesline was being hung by a woman in her backyard and Mike slid under it, narrowly missing the sheet pinned to the line. A few steps behind he heard a horrible ripping noise followed by the woman shouting a profanity at the bully. 

The woman’s side yard was open, and Mike ran at an arc, rounding the corner perfectly to place himself out of sight. The street was clear ahead! He finally chanced to look behind him and found that the bully was much further back than he thought he was. That was good news, because Mike’s lungs were aching. Still, he pushed his feet forward, desperate to avoid a pummeling on his first foray into town. 

He glanced back again, trying to see if it was worth it to duck to the side again, and looked back ahead just in time to see a car door open into him. He flipped into the air like a bad acrobat and landed hard on the thin strip of grass that ran along the sidewalk on this street and blinked stars out of his vision for a long moment. 

“Oh shit!” a gravelly voice said above him. 

“Nice going, dad!” a younger voice chuckled. “He flew!”

“Harvey, take your brother inside and get me some ice, will you?”

“Come on, Marcus,” another voice said, this one a little older, but it sounded like he wasn’t much older than Mike. That is, if Mike’s brains were still intact enough to be able to tell. 

The car door closed and Mike felt panic flood him. While he was lying on the street, the bully was going to catch up to him! “I’ve gotta run!” he said, but he felt like it didn’t quite come out right. 

“I think maybe it’s best you just take it easy for a minute there, son,” the older man with the gravelly voice said. Mike felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. 

Mike wanted to shake his head but the slightest movement of it made him wince in pain. No, that was a terrible idea. “Bad guy. Chasing me,” he tried. He blinked and this time instead of four of the silhouetted figures kneeling above him, there was just one. A tall, thin man with stubble and unkempt hair. Mike saw him turn his head to look around them. 

“No one else here but us. And my sons. And I guess my car door,” the man said with a soft guilt-laced chuckle. “So I think you’re safe from anyone chasing you. Explains why I couldn’t see you, though. I swear you must have been moving like the wind.”

“Here. Is he dead?” the dry voice of the older kid asked and his figure shaded Mike’s eyes from the sun overhead. 

“No, I don’t think so. Thanks, Harvey.” The man sighed and said, “Well, best take a look at the damage.” He gently lifted Mike’s head, much to Mike’s dismay, and whistled. “Not too bad, but you’ve got a pretty good goose egg there.” And something cold pressed against it. 

Mike flinched and tried to move away at first, but then the cold began to numb the pulsing pain in his skull and he sighed a little. “Thanks. I think I’m good now. I should get home.”

The kid -- Harvey? -- laughed. “Were you an idiot before you hit your head or should we be worried about brain damage?”

“Harvey!” the man scolded, but he had a twinkle in his eyes. “My very rude son does have a point, however. I think we best make sure you’re alright before we let you go home. And then I’m driving you there when you are.”

Mike felt a sudden and completely senseless stab of jealousy that this Harvey kid had a father who obviously loved him. He pushed down the feeling and just let the tall man pull him slowly to his feet. It wasn’t until he was standing that he felt the pain in his knees and his thigh. He must have hit his knees on the car door and his pants were torn from sliding under the clothesline. His shirt was torn in the back from where the bully had grabbed him, too, and his shoes were practically falling to pieces. 

Harvey gave him a derisive sniff but he grabbed one of Mike’s arms and helped him into the house. 

Wasn’t there a rule about not talking to strangers? Maybe Mike was making that up or maybe it really was brain damage. He was tired and in pain, and it felt really nice to sit on their couch. 

“Oh, Gordon, you’re home!” a woman smiled as she saw them enter. “And Harvey! You didn’t tell me you had a friend over.”

“I don’t,” Harvey muttered softly and his eyes flicked over to Mike. 

It shouldn’t have bothered him, since Mike hadn’t really expected any different, but Harvey’s instant rejection of him hurt. Trevor had been his only friend for so long, and he had never fit in with any of the other kids. Even his dad had made him feel like an outsider half of the time. So he was used to no one liking him. But with everything that happened, it hurt more than it should. He cast his eyes down and tried to not let his feelings show. Maybe they would all think it was just the pain. 

“Well, actually, he was running like Barry Allen and I accidentally opened my car door into him,” Harvey’s dad said. 

“Gordon! You didn’t!” Harvey’s mom said, covering her hand with her mouth. “Oh you poor thing. I see Harvey already grabbed you some ice. I should call your mother and tell her what happened.”

If Mike wasn’t pale before, he certainly looked like a ghost now. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure she’ll be worried.”

“No, it’s… She won’t care,” Mike said hastily, not quite thinking about his words. 

Harvey’s mom frowned in deep concern. “What do you mean she won’t care? Is everything okay at home?”

Mike’s eyes flicked over to Harvey and now he felt himself heat in embarrassment. If flipping upside down and humiliating himself by being a weak weirdo wasn’t bad enough, now he was making things so much worse. Harvey already disliked him, so he shouldn’t care, but that was what made it harder. “No, I mean, yes. Look, just, please don’t call home. My parents aren’t… they aren’t home.”

“Oh,” Harvey’s mom said, still looking unconvinced. “Are you home alone, then?”

“No, my…” Mike pointedly did not look at Harvey now, but dropped his eyes as he said, “I live with my grandmother.”

A certain understanding seemed to dawn on Harvey’s mom’s face, and she smiled. “Well, if you want to give her a call, you just let me know, okay, sweetie?”

Sweetie? Mike wanted to groan. Father Walker had told him he wasn’t an orphan, but the second people found out, they started to treat him as just that. Do not cry, Michael Ross, he told himself. 

“So, what’s your name?” Harvey’s dad said, sitting down next to him with a first aid kit that Harvey handed him. 

“Um, Mike Ross.” Reluctantly, he let Gordon examine the back of his head more closely. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mike. Though I’m sorry it was such an explosive start!” he laughed. 

Harvey rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips that Mike wasn’t sure the kid knew was there. 

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Mike said politely. 

“And this is Harvey,” Gordon said. “I’m guessing he’s just a year or two older than you.”

“I’m twelve, sir,” Mike said. 

“Harvey is thirteen,” Gordon smiled at him and did something to Mike’s head that made him hiss in pain. “Sorry ‘bout that. Almost done. You know, you can just call me Gordon. Calling me ‘sir’ makes me feel old.”

“Yes, sir. Uh, Gordon,” Mike corrected himself and hissed again. 

Gordon tossed down a small dishcloth Mike hadn’t seen him grab. It had a small amount of blood on it and he swallowed audibly, feeling a little light-headed at the sight. He glanced at Harvey, worried that now the guy would think he was weak. 

But Harvey was frowning at him, almost as if he was evaluating him for a dissection project at school. 

“Is he dead?” the younger voice from earlier asked delightedly. A smaller boy that looked like Harvey came bounding out of the hallway and over to them. Harvey pulled him back from jumping on Mike as if it was just an automatic reaction. 

“He’s not dead, Marcus. Obviously,” Harvey said. 

“Aww, but that would have been cooler!”

Mike thought Marcus might have been about seven, and he clearly admired his big brother above all other things. But Mike didn’t particularly like the idea of being dead. Especially after having to reveal his parents being gone to these people. 

Harvey, who had been watching him still, sharply looked at Marcus. “Don’t say things like that. It’s rude.”

“But you say things like that all the time!” Marcus whined. 

“Marcus! I need a helper in the kitchen!” Harvey’s mother called. 

“Okay!” Marcus disappeared and Mike thought maybe there was someone Marcus adored more than his big brother. 

He wasn’t sure why Harvey had said what he had, but he wanted to thank him all the same. He looked up at him and gave him a reconsidering look. 

“Well, I don’t think you need to go to the hospital,” Gordon said, stepping away. “It’s stopped bleeding. But I think you should stay for dinner in case you’re dizzy. You had better call your grandmother and ask her what she thinks, though, Mike.”

“I can just walk home.”

“And risk all those bad guys out there?” Gordon teased with a smile. 

Mike’s blush went all the way up to his ears. Harvey crossed his arms but didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll call her,” Mike relented. 

But Harvey’s mom reappeared suddenly. “I had better do it, Mike. I think you should stay and rest. What’s her number?”

After reluctantly being forced into giving up their new phone number, Mike tried to not listen in as Harvey’s mom -- Lily, he had overheard Gordon call her -- rang his Grammy and explained what had happened. If anything, Grammy would probably be thrilled he had managed to meet people.

Mike looked around the room and noticed that Harvey was still staring at him, arms crossed like he was studying a puzzle. “Take a picture. It lasts longer.”

Harvey snorted. “I saw you running. Somehow you made it to our street from the other side of the block before us. And ditched Tommy Braxton.”

So Harvey had seen him the whole time and hadn’t stopped his dad from hitting him with the car door? 

“You’re fast.”

What else could Mike do but give a shrug? “I didn’t feel like getting beat up on my first day around town.”

“What about the rest of the days here?” Harvey asked, like it was some sort of negotiation they were seriously working out. 

“What?” Mike was very confused. 

“Come with me to the Sandlot and I’ll make sure no one jumps you,” Harvey offered. 

“I’m sorry. Is this some Californian slang I’m not familiar with?” Were they gangsters or something? Or was this some sort of Soviet thing?

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” Harvey said. “If you can still stand up straight. Do we have a deal?”

“I’m not sure I should agree without knowing what I’m getting into first.”

“No wonder you get beat up,” Harvey muttered. 

Anger and shame flooded Mike’s cheeks and he tried to imagine Trevor leaping to his defense, but he couldn’t. Trevor probably wouldn’t have been interested in talking to Harvey at all unless he had some money they could spend on candy or other more illicit materials. Mike was really alone here. He huffed, but he nodded, then winced at the pain the motion caused. “Fine. Deal.”

“Boys, dinner is ready! Harvey, will you help Mike to the table?” Lily called. 

Heat flooded Mike’s cheeks at the thought of having to be helped. He tried to quickly get to his feet on his own and he ignored the aching of bruised knees as he tried to get the room to stop spinning. When he took a step, he felt the floor lurching up at him. 

And then it was falling away again, a strong hand around his arm and wrapping around his waist. “Very impressive,” Harvey whispered with a smirk like he knew it would make Mike’s cheeks heat in embarrassment. 

“I had it under control,” Mike insisted, though it was very clear he did not have it under control. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you wanted to be on the floor and I’ve now ruined your plans.”

“Thanks for the help,” Mike finally said, giving up the fight. 

Harvey guided him to the table. He made sure Mike sat down properly before pulling back to take his own seat, and just before he did, he said, “You’re welcome,” so softly that no one else could have heard it. 

“I hope you like lasagna, Mike,” Lily said with a broad smile. 

….

A roughly cleared throat finally disturbed Mike from idly pushing around the scrambled eggs on his plate. He looked up to find Grammy staring at him. 

“Michael, are you going to eat those or just push them around?”

“I’m not hungry,” Mike said sourly and dropped his fork. He knew that Grammy had put in effort to make him breakfast, that he could have just been left with a bowl of cereal every morning. But her attention made him feel uncomfortable, and he was already feeling out of place in this new town as it was. And after the humiliating experience of the day before, Mike didn’t need help feeling uncomfortable around here. 

His Grammy sighed and put down her coffee mug. “Michael, I know it’s hard,” she started to say, her voice wavering like she was holding back tears. 

That only made Mike feel guilty. “I’m fine, Grammy,” he lied. “I’m just not hungry. I’m gonna go for a walk.” He slid out of his chair before she could protest and grabbed his Dodgers hat before heading outside. He only made it as far as the mailbox before he saw Harvey. 

“What are you doing here?” Mike asked, confused. 

“We had a deal, or did you hit your head harder than I thought?” Harvey smirked, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He had something tucked under his arm, but it was concealed enough by the open, blue button-down he was wearing that Mike couldn’t quite tell what it was. 

Oh, right, Mike remembered. Something weird and ominous about Harvey taking him to some sandy lot, whatever that meant.

“Well, you look like you can stand up straight. Think you can run like you did yesterday?” 

Mike glanced back at the house and wished he could run away from the reality of his life. “Yeah. My knees are a bit bruised, but they’re alright.”

“Good.” Harvey pushed the thing he had tucked under his arm into Mike’s chest. “Here, you can borrow my old one.”

With a slight “oof”, Mike grabbed at the well-worn baseball glove that Harvey had shoved at him. Bad memories of his dad trying to get Mike to play catch with him played quickly through his head and he blushed. “Oh, uh, I don’t play baseball.”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Look, we’re short a player after one of the kids moved away a month ago. And you’re quick on your feet. It’s not rocket science, Mike. Now come on. We’re going to be late.” He turned and started walking down the street, a baseball glove tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. 

For a few long seconds, Mike just watched Harvey walk away from him, until he found his feet moving to catch up. He wanted to protest further, to tell him that he wasn’t good at sports, especially anything where other kids relied on him to not make a mess of things. But then he would have to admit to being even more embarrassingly inept than he already had come across yesterday, and worse, Harvey might ask about his past experiences. Mike really did not feel up to telling him about his dad’s obsession with getting Mike to be like a normal kid instead of the uncoordinated square he really was. 

“There’s an open spot in right field. That was Daniel’s position,” Harvey explained as they walked at a quick pace through the neighborhood, rotely returning the waves from the people they passed on the street. 

“Daniel?” Mike asked, confused. 

“Daniel Hardman. The kid who moved away at the end of the school year. Pay attention,” Harvey said as though he found Mike insufferably slow in the head. But a glance at his face showed a small smirk and a gleam in his eye like he was just teasing Mike a bit. 

“Oh, right. Won’t the rest of the team get mad about me replacing him? I don’t know them.” Other kids typically did not like Mike Ross. He wasn’t looking forward to having to deal with Harvey all day, let alone seven other kids who would probably all hate him. 

“They won’t care as long as you make a good impression,” Harvey said with a shrug, as if he simply expected Mike to do just that and had no doubts about it at all. 

Before Mike could ask any other questions, Harvey turned abruptly down an alley behind some houses, much like the one in which Mike had found himself running for his life the previous day. The alley’s poorly laid asphalt faded into hard-packed dirt and grass to reveal a large field with a rough baseball diamond. Mike mentally compared it to climbing through the wardrobe into Narnia, the fence of the backstop a substitute for the iconic lamppost. In the diamond were kids wearing typical summer clothes, but with what Mike was beginning to see as a distinct laid-back California style to them, tossing a baseball around and cracking jokes and trading good-natured barbs. 

“Welcome to the Sandlot,” Harvey said, giving Mike a thump on the shoulder. At Mike’s distinct lack of response, he pointed out right field and said, “Go out there and cover right center. We rotate batters and cover the missing positions. You’ll see.”

When Mike didn’t start moving, Harvey gave him a light shove and then Mike found himself trotting awkwardly around first base and pointedly avoiding any and all eye contact with the intimidatingly tall girl standing by the bag. He stepped out into the dirt and weedy grass of the outfield and backed up when he saw Harvey subtly gesturing at him to keep moving. 

“What the heck, Harvey?” the catcher yelled. He was a boyish, dark-haired kid with large white teeth and a baby face, but Mike had a feeling that his looks made him seem a lot less intimidating than he actually was. “You’re just going to replace Daniel with some nobody without even consulting us?”

“Kid looks like a square,” the second baseman said, shoving the end of her blonde ponytail over her shoulder as she eyed Mike disapprovingly. 

The tall first baseman shook her head and crossed her arms. “I thought we agreed we would vote on who we were bringing in.” It didn’t sound like a question coming from her; she had an imposing way of talking. Or maybe it was just that she was almost a half head taller than everyone else. 

“Are we going to play or not?” Harvey only sounded mildly annoyed, but he stepped up to the pitcher’s mound and waited for the first baseman to throw him the ball. 

With a huff, she tossed it at him sideways. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I always know what I’m doing,” Harvey said and was that a wink he just gave to Mike? 

Mike felt himself blush and turned to look around the rest of the diamond to find disapproving and unwelcoming glances in his direction. That was if he was lucky. Some of the other kids didn’t even look over at him at all. 

“Harold, you’re up first!” Harvey yelled to the center fielder. 

The pale, curly-haired blonde jogged through the infield, dropped his glove, and picked up one of the bats lying behind the backstop. With a deep breath, he stepped up to the plate and set his feet, then pointed at the outfield in a move even Mike recognized as overly ambitious. 

The other kids all started to laugh hysterically at him. For a moment, Mike felt grateful that no one’s attention was on him. Then he felt guilty for being glad some other kid was getting made fun of. 

Harold seemed to grow almost as red as the shirt he was wearing. 

“Oh for God’s sake, Harvey, just throw already so he can stop humiliating himself and strike out,” the catcher said. 

“Shut up, Louis!” Harold yelled, not taking his eyes off Center field, near where Mike was standing. “I’m not going to strike out.”

Panic swelled in Mike’s chest as he watched Harvey wind up for the pitch. Please don’t hit it to me , Mike thought. Please don’t hit it to me!

A resounding thud sounded through the diamond as Harold swung and Louis threw the ball back to Harvey. “And that’s what, failed attempt number twenty-seven?”

“You’re not supposed to heckle your own teammate!” Harold argued. 

“You’re at bat, genius. You’re the enemy right now, not my teammate.”

Harvey put his hands on his hips. “If you girls are done arguing--”

“What did you say?” the brown-haired shortstop yelled, hands on her hips. Mike thought she had the same cherubic cheeks as the catcher, but otherwise she was much more aesthetically pleasing. 

“If the heel fits,” the blonde second baseman shrugged. 

Harvey turned to grin at them. “My apologies, ladies.”

The shortstop smiled, but the second baseman rolled her eyes. 

“Harvey,” the first baseman interrupted, as though this kind of thing happened all the time. 

Eventually, they all fell silent long enough for Harvey to throw another pitch, this time Harold swinging and connecting. The ball rolled through the infield near the third baseman - a short, wide-set kid with dark features who was wearing slacks and suspenders of all things - who threw it easily to first base. 

“Out!” several of the kids called as Harold ran through first base a moment later. 

The game continued, with the batters rotating through and their positions being covered by the nearby fielder. So far, no one had hit anywhere near Mike, and he felt a deep sense of dread at the very idea of having to participate in this seemingly endless game. As far as he could tell, no one even kept score. There appeared to be some sort of method to the order in which they batted, but Mike wasn’t sure if everyone knew or if Harvey just randomly called out the person he wanted to throw to. 

As Mike grew lost in his study of the mechanics of the game and its mysterious participants, he lost track of what was actually occurring at home plate. A loud thwack and shouting caught his attention and he saw a ball arc up into the sky towards him. Oh no. Panic overwhelmed him. He held out his glove as he tried to move under the ball like his dad had tried to teach him. Please don’t mess up, he prayed. 

He should have prayed harder, he decided miserably as the ball landed with a soft bounce in the scatterings of grass by his feet. He had somehow managed to grossly miscalculate where the ball would land. Worse, his horror grew as he heard the others shouting at him to pick it up and throw it. He grabbed it, noting that the pretty blonde second baseman who had hit the ball was now nearing third base, and Mike tried to throw it to the first baseman, who was practically ordering him to do so. 

The throw rolled pathetically to a stop just shy of the infield and the blonde girl crossed home plate with a shout. 

“Wow, good going, Harvey!”

“Told you! He’s a square.”

“That was literally the most pathetic thing I have ever seen in my life.”

“Even Harold isn’t that bad!”

“Even I’m not that bad!”

Mike’s blood pounded in his ears as he flushed in pure humiliation and shame. This was even worse than the last time his dad had tried to get him to play catch. His eyes caught sight of Harvey on the pitcher’s mound, staring blankly at him, a slight downward pull to his lips the only visible sign of his anger. 

Afraid he would make things worse for himself and burst into tears in front of these kids, Mike let his panic take over. “I… I’m sorry. Sorry.” He dropped the glove Harvey had given him and ran. He took a wide berth back around the first base line and the backstop and out the way he and Harvey had come in. 

He only stopped when he got through the doors to his house and into his room, where he threw himself on his bed and stuffed his pillow over his head. 

“Michael?” he heard Grammy call in concern just after he had slammed both the front door and the one to his bedroom. 

“Go away!” he shouted at her. “Just go away!”

“Michael, what’s the matter?” Grammy did not go away, but instead pushed open his door. He didn’t have to look to know she was frowning at him in worry and compassion. 

“I hate this place!” he yelled at her. “Why did we have to move here? Why did you have to take away the only family I had left?!” She didn’t deserve that. Grammy was his family, of course, but so was Trevor. Trevor had always stuck up for him, had made him feel better when his dad had made him feel inadequate for not being good at sports. Trevor made fun of him, too, but like a brother would. He would have yelled at all those kids at the Sandlot, Mike told himself. He would have fought them all off, told them to get lost and leave Mike alone. 

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Grammy said softly, and he was startled to hear her voice wavering. “I didn’t mean to take you from your friends. But you’re not alone. I’m here with you. And things will get better.”

Mike sniffled into his pillow and held onto his anger, his shame. “All they’ve done is get worse.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” She put a hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. 

But Mike pulled away from her. “No! I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.” He sat up, wiping his face quickly. “I just want to be alone.”

“Michael…”

“I don’t want new friends, Grammy. I want to go home.”

She sighed and said, “You don’t have to go out if you don’t want to. But Michael, home might not be here. But it doesn’t mean you didn’t take it with you when we moved. Do you understand?”

Mike gave her a glare, even though guilt flared through him at knowingly hurting Grammy. “I won’t ever be home here.” He wrapped his arms around his knees and turned to face the wall of his bedroom, signaling that he was done talking to her. 

Grammy patted his arm and left him alone. Mike hated being alone, but it was better than being back out there with all those kids to make him feel worse. Or being with Grammy, who only reminded him of the things he no longer had. 

….

Mike washed his now empty cereal bowl before leaving it out to dry and then headed for his bedroom. 

“Michael?” Grammy called to him. “Are you going to be alright by yourself here?”

He gave her a shrug without meeting her eyes. “Yeah, fine.”

“I’m going to the local bridge club. They’re having a tournament, apparently. And if I can get a decent enough partner I hear there’s a nice new toaster for the grand prize. Sure you don’t want to come with?”

“I don’t want to play cards with old people, Grammy,” Mike muttered at her before he could stop himself. 

“No one likes a sore loser, Michael,” she smiled at him. Grammy was always going too easy on him. 

For a moment, Mike put aside all the things bothering him and he threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you, Grammy.”

“I love you, too.” Her hold was just as tight as his, something deeper than just a simple platitude being shared between them. “I’ll be back for dinner. I’ve left you a sandwich in the fridge if you’re hungry.” She waved at him and then headed out. 

Mike had thought he would like to be alone in the house without Grammy trying to get him to talk about his feelings or encourage him to go out and make new friends. But instead the new house felt alien and cold. There weren’t any memories here for him to feel like he was safe or that he belonged. He thought briefly of Harvey’s house - it had been worn, cozy, stuffed with stacks of sheet music books and record sleeves, framed photographs covering almost every free inch of the walls. 

With a shudder, Mike stepped outside and sat on the front step with a book he had pulled from the box of his mom’s collection. It made him feel the tiniest bit close to her as he enjoyed the cool Southern California morning. 

“For someone with a Dodgers cap, you really suck at baseball,” the familiar warm tone of Harvey’s voice interrupted, stalling Mike’s progress through The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit . 

Trying not to let Harvey see how embarrassed he still was about the disaster of an experience the day before had been, Mike pointedly did not look up from his page. “It was my dad’s,” he said by way of explanation. James Ross had quickly given up on his hopes of getting Mike to play baseball, though he hadn’t given up on other athletic activities. But he had worn that cap proudly to many games with Mike until the team had up and left. The hat was all Mike had left of his dad that still made him feel like his father had truly enjoyed spending time with him. Especially after his dad had discovered Mike’s love of statistics and facts.

A familiar worn baseball glove landed in Mike’s lap, and he put his book down in irritation. “What are you doing?”

“You left it behind yesterday,” Harvey answered as if Mike had asked a stupid question. 

“No, I mean why are you here, giving me this? There is no way I’m going back there.” Mike held out the glove to him. 

Harvey crossed his arms. “Of course you are. I told you, we’re down a player and you make nine.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “I think a bucket would do a better job than I did yesterday.”

“Probably,” Harvey agreed with a smirk. 

Anger flared in Mike and he got to his feet. “Look, I’m not going. I don’t particularly enjoy being humiliated, so please just go away and leave me alone!” He shoved the glove at Harvey’s chest. 

Harvey grabbed his wrist. “We had a deal.”

Was this kid for real? “You have to be kidding me! You heard what everyone said!”

“They say that stuff all the time,” Harvey shrugged. “Don’t be such a--”

“Square?” Mike supplied, pulling his hand free of both Harvey and the baseball glove. “I told you I don’t play baseball.”

Harvey crossed his arms, wrapping them over the glove and studying Mike like he was a particularly difficult math problem. “Fine. New deal. I teach you to not be completely incompetent and you show up.”

“No.” 

It was a little satisfying to see that Harvey was genuinely surprised by Mike’s refusal, as if he had turned down a million dollars. “No?”

“No,” Mike repeated. “I’m not going to humiliate myself for you and your friends’ summer entertainment.

“Oh please, if we needed humiliation as entertainment we would just keep putting Harold up at bat.”

“No one wants me there.” No one except Harvey, apparently. He didn’t know why Harvey was pushing so hard. Maybe they really were desperate to have nine players, but surely the other kids had friends or siblings they could bring in. 

“No one wants you there yet .”

“What will it take to make you go away?” 

“Oh I’m prepared to go all the way to your Grammy ,” Harvey grinned at him. At Mike’s flush, Harvey stepped up beside him on the porch. “Come on. We can practice in the backyard where no one will see how terrible you are.”

Before Mike could stop him, Harvey had stepped into his house and made his way through to the fairly spacious yard. He looked around and nodded like he was satisfied with the space. 

“You can’t just go into people’s houses!” Mike hissed at him. 

“You’ve been in mine,” Harvey shrugged. “Catch.” He tossed the glove at Mike, who managed to catch the large object while still giving Harvey a sour glare. 

“Look, you don’t get it. I’m unteachable. My dad knows better than anyone…” There it was again, that horrible wrong tense. Mike pushed down the swell of emotions he felt as he brushed again at the open sore of his heart and forced himself to continue. “My dad tried to teach me. It only took one game of catch for him to realize I’m no good.”

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Harvey said and he grabbed Mike’s wrist and pulled him out into the open space of the yard. 

With a resigned expression, Mike stuffed the worn glove onto his hand and set his feet, trying to brace himself for Harvey’s powerful throw. 

Instead, Harvey chuckled at him. “I’m not going to throw a pitch. Relax, Mike. Here, hold your glove out like this.”

He and Harvey tossed the ball to each other underhanded for a few throws, Harvey stepping back a few feet before continuing. 

“So you’re not a Dodgers fan?” Harvey asked, tossing the ball into Mike’s open glove. 

Mike lobbed it back easily, shoulders relaxing a bit now he was feeling more comfortable with the game. “I guess I am. At least, I was when they were in Brooklyn. My dad used to take me to games and we talked about the players and statistics and stuff. I’m, uh, good at remembering all those.”

“Wow, you are a square,” Harvey grinned. 

Mike blushed, but a smile formed easily on his face. “Shut up.” 

Without warning, Harvey tossed the ball overhand but just as lazily as they had been underhanding it. Mike didn’t think, just moved his glove up to catch it and the ball nestled in the pocket.

“Nice catch,” Harvey nodded. He held out his glove low, expecting Mike to lob it as he had again. 

“I… Yeah. I guess,” Mike smiled as he looked at the ball in his glove in wonder. He had held out his glove and it had been where the ball had been. That had never happened before. He gave a gentle toss back to Harvey. 

“I should be glad you’re not a Yankees fan. Though, fair warning, everyone else has very strong opinions about that.” Harvey started to mix up his throws now, tossing some over, some under. Mike caught them all easily. 

“I only cared because my dad did, really. But I do know most of the statistics for the other teams too, at least until…” Until this year, when his dad had died and Mike hadn’t been able to bear looking at them without him. It was the one activity they had genuinely enjoyed together. 

“I recommend avoiding long conversations with Jimmy, then. He thinks he knows all of the facts, but he’s always wrong. Harold actually knows a lot, but he’s pretty quiet most of the time.”

That seemed odd to Mike based on the exchange he remembered at the plate from yesterday. “Harold?”

Harvey seemed to read his mind. “Oh, he and Louis hate each other. I think. Who knows.” He was grinning, though, so Mike wasn’t sure if he was serious. 

Harvey had moved further away now and was only throwing overhand. A few of them were to the side, poorly thrown, and Mike had to step out of position to catch them. He found himself easily chasing them down, his focus on the conversation. “Who’s the terrifying first baseman?”

“That’s Jessica. If anyone has a problem with anyone else, Jessica is our judge. What she says goes.”

Considering the terrifyingly fierce expression she had worn the entire time Mike had seen her, he understood why no one would want to argue with any of her decisions. He didn’t think he wanted to find out what her bad side was like. 

“Hey, look at that, you don’t suck at this, after all,” Harvey smirked as Mike caught one he had to really lunge for, landing on a knee. 

As he got to his feet, Mike grumbled, “You tricked me.”

Harvey moved closer and took his glove off, stuffing it in his back pocket again. “You let me trick you.” He grabbed Mike’s hand, which was now holding the baseball. 

“Um, what are you doing?” Mike swallowed nervously. 

“Teaching you to throw. Here, bend your arm like this, then come over.” He demonstrated, moving Mike’s arm as if he was a doll. He mimed the motion himself. “Let the ball roll off your fingers when you let go, then follow through.” He made Mike copy him a few times before walking back, staying in close range again. 

With an anxious roll of his shoulders, Mike attempted to do as Harvey had instructed and the ball sailed over Harvey’s head and rolled under the shade of the orange tree in the yard. “Sorry!”

Harvey chased after the ball and came back in close instead of throwing it. “Try again.” He lobbed it at Mike, who missed it. 

“Oops!” Mike chased after it and then tried to throw it and it smacked the ground and rolled over to Harvey slowly. Oh no. The humiliation was back. He apologized quickly and glanced at Harvey, expecting to see anger and disappointment on his face. It was an expression Mike was familiar with since it was the one his dad had worn each time Mike had failed at something physical. 

But Harvey just shrugged and picked up the ball. “The second baseman is Katrina. She’s… Well, she’s Louis’s… I’m not sure friend is the right word. And our shortstop is Esther, Louis’s sister.”

Mike had been panicking about trying to catch the next throw, but as Harvey continued talking, Mike found himself relaxing again and he easily snatched the ball out of the air. “Wait,” he said, “ She’s Louis’s sister?” He aimed the ball, elbow out as Harvey had taught. “She’s Louis’s sister?!” He released it and it went straight to Harvey’s chest and into his glove. 

“I know, right? He tells everyone she’s ugly, so she and Katrina are always looking for new insults to spread around town about him.”

“You’ve helped, haven’t you?” Mike asked, not realizing that he was throwing and catching perfectly now. 

Harvey’s grin was answer enough. “And our third baseman is Stu.”

Mike paused before throwing back. “That’s it?” he asked when Harvey didn’t offer anything else. 

“Everyone likes Stu,” Harvey shrugged. 

Mike threw the baseball, shaking his head as he did so. This one felt good as it rolled off his fingertips, exhilarating. 

“Well, I think you’re ready,” Harvey said. “Unless you also don’t know how to bat? And let me guess…”

Mike blushed, but he shook his head. “I can bat. Just… The last time I did, I may have broken someone’s window.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow but he shrugged, letting it go. “We don’t have time or a bat, anyway. We’re already late as it is.”

“Late?” 

“I told you. We play every day. Come on, let’s go.”

….

The Sandlot was quiet when Mike and Harvey arrived. The other kids were all sitting in the paltry shade of the backstop, talking and exchanging snacks or baseball cards. 

“It’s about time, Harvey. My clothes are going out of style,” Esther complained, one hand on her hip. 

“They already are,” Louis sniped. 

“Shut up,” Esther said, but there was no heat in her voice. 

“Oh, Harvey, did you have to bring the poindexter back?” Jimmy asked, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. 

“Do we have to be so mean to--” Harold started. 

“Shut up, Harold,” Louis snapped. “You wouldn’t know mean if it bit you. Harvey, what are you, insane? The kid can’t catch, can’t throw, probably can’t bat, either.” 

Mike supposed he should be grateful that Louis had lowered his voice like he was trying to be discreet, except that he was still saying all of this right out in the open in front of Mike. His earlier confidence from playing catch with Harvey was gone now and he just wanted a sinkhole to swallow him up to end this torment. 

“I say let him stay,” Katrina offered with a smirk. “I’ll just hit it to him and get a homerun every time. Sounds good to me.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Harvey said. “Let’s play already.”

“You’re the one who was late,” Harold whispered loudly. 

Louis, Esther, and Jimmy looked over to Jessica, who shrugged. “Play ball.”

Harvey gave Mike a lazy grin and then stepped to the pitcher’s mound. 

“Are you lost?” Louis said, as Mike didn’t move despite the others taking their positions. “Right field is to the right.”

“No, I know where--”

“Then get going,” Louis said to him impatiently, pulling his mask over his face. “Play ball!” he shouted dramatically. 

Mike ignored the feelings of misery and jogged past Harvey this time, through the infield, and out to right field. He looked at where the others were and then watched as Harvey called Katrina up to bat. His stomach fell. 

She stepped up to the plate, pointed straight at Mike, and then took her stance. 

Harvey turned to look at Mike and nodded at him, then gave Katrina a pitch. She swung and the ball arced up past Jessica and almost right to Mike. He wouldn’t have to even move to catch it. The earlier game of catch came back to him as he recalled what Harvey had said about the blonde. She and Louis were friends? That explained her sharp attitude, he guessed, and her friendship with the boy’s sister. 

He caught the ball, feeling it land snugly in the pocket of his glove. He stared at it for a moment, then realized he had caught it and that Katrina was out. He had to give the ball back to the pitcher now. Jessica was standing between him and Harvey, glove open, offering a shorter route if he wanted one. Mike looked at Harvey, and then at Jessica. The ball landed directly in her mitt. 

The tall girl studied the ball for a moment, mirroring Mike’s own pause of disbelief, and then smiled before tossing the ball at Harvey. “Okay.”

“Nice catch,” Harold called to him from center field, and Jimmy waved in agreement. 

Mike watched as Katrina jogged back to her position and he braced himself for her ire. But she just gave him a steady appraising look before nodding at him and turning back to focus on the next batter, who appeared to be Stu. 

After that, the game seemed to go smoothly. No one yelled at Mike or called him names or made fun of him. There was some good-natured teasing amongst everyone else, but they left Mike alone for the moment, as though they just were not yet familiar enough with him to be able to incorporate him into their normal dialogue. 

“Mike.”

The sudden use of his name stirred him from the comfortable trance he had relaxed into, and he realized that Harvey had called him up to bat. There was a curious gleam in Harvey’s eye as he watched Mike jog past him. 

Things had not gone well the last time he had swung a bat. That had been Trevor’s fault, really, though. Mike had just wanted to learn something to surprise his dad with. Trevor had been the one who had chosen the location of where to practice. He had told Mike he hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it, though. 

Still, that had been Trevor tossing a ball easily for him. This was Harvey throwing fast-a pitch fast. Mike just didn’t want to embarrass himself. Not that no one ever struck out at all. In fact, Harvey seemed to be really good from what Mike could tell. It was probably only that everyone here was so familiar with his pitches that they were able to hit so well off him. 

“What are you waiting for, permission?” Louis said. “Get in the box and let’s go already. My mom’s making matzo ball soup for dinner so I don’t have all night here.”

Mike frowned at Louis and then stepped into the batter’s box. He looked up at the pitcher and Harvey gave him a smirk. Then he was pulling back and Mike focused on the ball as it released from Harvey’s fingers. 

Mike swung. 

The ball flew straight over Harvey’s head hard, sailing evenly between Katrina and Esther and landing just past the edge of the infield, where Jimmy and Harold were racing from opposite ends of the outfield to recover the ball. 

Mike had only seen all of that for a second, however, as he had taken off for first base the second he could. He rounded the base and was close to second as he saw Harold reach the ball. But he was already stepping on the bag, now, so he kept going. 

Harold threw to second, to Katrina, thinking that Mike would have stayed there. But Mike was halfway to third base when Katrina got the ball. She threw it lightning quick to Stu and Mike skidded before being caught by his glove. Evading bullies was Mike’s specialty. 

“Pickle!” someone yelled, maybe Louis. Mike couldn’t focus on it. He was heading back to second, but planted his foot and shifted his weight, knowing Stu would throw it to Esther, who was closest to him. He dove into third base and a half second later a glove slapped at him. 

“Safe!” Jessica’s voice yelled. 

“Seconded,” Harvey said. 

Mike panted and looked up at Stu, who had been the one to hit him with his glove. 

“You need help up, poindexter?” Stu apparently had a New York accent, and Mike realized it was the first time he had heard him speak. The name should have upset him, but somehow coming from Stu it sounded like a term of endearment, like pal or buddy, except made just for Mike. 

“Uh, no, I’m good. Thanks, though,” Mike said, and pushed himself to his feet. His whole front was covered in dirt, his pants shredded and his shirt stained likely permanently.

“Don’t mention it,” Stu said, and slapped Mike hard on the back. “What a pickle! You’re quick. Third base on that hit. And what a hit it was.” He whistled and slung an arm over Mike’s shoulders in a half hug and shook him before letting go and going back to position. 

Mike found Stu to be completely irritating and over the top; he instantly liked him. His eyes found Harvey’s while he attempted to dust himself off again to no avail. The pitcher was grinning at him with a look of smug satisfaction. 

When Mike headed home that night, when it got too dark for them to be able to play, Harvey walked with him until they neared the block where their paths parted ways. “Be at the Sandlot tomorrow at ten,” he told Mike.

“Oh, uh, your glove,” Mike said, holding it out for him. 

Harvey stared at it for a moment before smiling. “Keep it. And Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe wear some jeans next time.” He laughed at the state of Mike’s poor torn pants, still covered in dirt stains. 

Mike blushed but nodded. “Right. Uh, see you tomorrow.” It wasn’t until he was inside that Mike realized he had not only not embarrassed himself all day, but that he really was being invited back tomorrow. Not as a replacement for a kid who had moved away, but as one of the team. He squeezed the glove Harvey had given him to his chest and allowed himself a small smile. 

“You look happy,” Grammy said, startling Mike out of his thoughts when he entered the kitchen. 

Mike looked up to find her rearranging things on the countertop, jars of spices and preserves being shoved out of the way. “Grammy, what are you doing?”

“Well, turns out my partner at the bridge club wasn’t a dummy after all. We have a brand new toaster!” She grinned at him and showed off the large silver contraption that took up most of the space on the countertop. “What do you think?”

Mike laughed and sat down at the table. “I think you’re going to get kicked out of the bridge club soon.” His Grammy was even better at cards than he was, and he usually just won because of his ability to remember them and calculate the odds like it was as simple as breathing. 

Grammy gave a chuckle and sat down across from him. “Better not bring you with me, then. Although they might get distracted by how adorable you are.”

“Grammy,” Mike rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, a baseball glove?” she said, finally noticing the thing in his hands. 

Mike’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh, yeah. I sort of joined a team. I think.”

“Not to rain on your parade, but do they take payments in the form of toasters?” she asked, only slightly disguising the worry in her voice. 

“No,” Mike laughed at her. It was strange how easy it felt suddenly to laugh when lately it had felt impossible to do anything but frown. “It’s not official or anything. Just some neighborhood kids. They don’t even keep score. Although, I could, I guess, if I wanted to.” Mike’s memory was more than capable of tracking all of that data. 

“It sounds wonderful. Is one of these neighborhood kids Harvey Specter?” Grammy asked him with a smile. 

“Maybe,” Mike said, the pink in his cheeks spreading to his ears now. “It was kind of awesome, Grammy. I… I was really good today. I think maybe,” he trailed off, almost afraid to say what he was thinking. 

But Grammy seemed to read what was on his mind. “Of course he would have been proud of you, Michael.” She put her hand on his and squeezed. “I know he pushed you at times, but he just wanted so badly to find a way to connect with you. He wasn’t perfect. But he loved you.”

Mike wiped at his eyes and nodded. “I miss them,” he said softly. 

The hand on his squeezed harder for a moment and Grammy inhaled sharply like she was holding back tears. “I miss them too.” 

The sound of Mike’s stomach rumbling broke the silent tension of the moment and Grammy laughed. “I noticed you didn’t eat that sandwich I left for you. Now, let’s have some of that dinner and overeat on the cookies I pocketed from the bridge club.”

“Grammy!” Mike chided, his eyes wide with laughter. 

It had been a good day. 

…..

The Sandlot became Mike’s haven for the next few days as he settled in. The other kids seemed to accept him readily now, cheering him when he succeeded, chiding him good-naturedly when he flubbed. Even the jokes seemed to be in good fun and they reminded Mike of the way he and Trevor had used to call one another names. 

The best part, however, was when Mike met Harvey in the morning to walk the rest of the way to the Sandlot. Harvey had told him to meet him there, but he was always waiting for Mike at the end of the street and they would walk in together. The few minutes they spent in this time taught Mike a great deal about Harvey’s personal interests and home life. 

For example, Harvey’s dad was a saxophone player for a bunch of jazz clubs all over Los Angeles, and Harvey really liked jazz as a result. He liked to tease his little brother, but he was fiercely protective of him as he was with the rest of the kids at the Sandlot. Harvey didn’t talk a lot about his family, but he never hid anything about them. 

On the other hand, Mike avoided the topic completely. Harvey already knew too much, as far as he was concerned, and Mike was happy to have him not learn more ways that Mike Ross was a pathetic kid. 

Almost a week since the first time he had been to the Sandlot, Mike and Harvey arrived only to find the other kids huddled against the backstop in the only shaded spot. The sun beat down upon them and while it wasn’t the thick humid air of New York, the intense heat did seem to strip any moisture from Mike’s body. 

“It’s too hot to play,” Katrina whined, pushing her ponytail over her shoulder. Mike had never seen her look so out of sorts before. 

Harold fanned himself with his glove. Of all of them, he looked the most likely to pass out completely. Jimmy had a hand wrapped around a half-empty bottle of coke and was trying to keep it from Esther’s clutches. 

“Come on, this is nothing,” Harvey said, shrugging at the scorching weather. 

They all glared at him. Mike silently agreed, but he wasn’t about to betray Harvey in front of everyone. “Yeah, we can still play. This is nothing compared to the summers in New York.”

“We get it, you’re from New York,” Louis said dismissively. “I’m not wearing my gear in this.”

“I’m with Mike on this. Humidity is no joke,” Stu said with a shrug. 

Everyone grumbled but no one moved. Harvey looked to Jessica, who was standing with her arms crossed, glove tucked under one armpit. She had braided her long hair, but it somehow made her look older instead of younger. “It’s too hot, Harvey. We’re a team. If it’s too hot for them…”

Harvey sighed, but he seemed to give in to the mood. “Well, what are we gonna do, then?”

“Rachel,” Harold said in a dreamy whisper. 

“Oh no,” Jimmy groaned. “You are crazy.”

“Who’s Rachel?” Mike asked, completely lost as to why the rest of the kids seemed to be rolling their eyes at Harold. 

“Harold is an idiot, but it’s not a completely terrible idea,” said Louis, getting to his feet. He straightened his backwards baseball cap. 

Jessica grinned. “It is a hot day. Come on, Harvey. It’ll be fun.”

Harvey groaned, but it seemed popular opinion had won out. The others were now on their feet and already moving out of the cool shade. 

“Harvey, what’s going on?” Mike asked as they trailed behind. “Where are we going?”

Harvey looked him up and down. “Do you have any swim shorts?”

…

Of all the things that Brooklyn had to offer, Mike finally understood the appeal of California. The swimming pool not only held refreshingly cool water for escaping the oppressive heat, but it held another appeal: Rachel Zane. 

“Wow, she’s the lifeguard?” Mike gaped at the beautiful teenager who was applying sunscreen to her legs in the lifeguard chair. She was beautiful and he could easily understand Harold’s crush. 

“Yeah. And Harold is obsessed,” Jimmy complained. They were mostly in the shallower end of the pool, where it was easier to play around in the cool water. Only a few of them wanted to dive, or cannonball, as was the case with Louis, and Mike didn’t particularly find his own swimming ability quite robust enough to want to test the deeper waters. Harold apparently couldn’t swim at all, but he had braved the steps and nearby edge for safety. 

“I’m not obsessed,” Harold defended. “I’m in love.”

“Oh please,” Katrina rolled her eyes, splashing water at him mockingly. 

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” Esther said, much to Katrina’s surprise. “I saw that card you made for her last school year. It was really sweet, Harold.”

From the corner of his eye, Mike saw Louis attempting and failing to attract the attention of a girl their age, and saw Harvey and Jessica huddled up laughing at him. Louis glared at them and jumped in hard enough to splash them and anyone else who happened to be nearby. Mike chuckled at the scene, earning a distant glare from Harvey. 

Water splashed into his eyes, and Mike realized he had stopped paying attention. “Hey!”

“What, did you fall asleep, Brooklyn?” Stu laughed at him. 

“I was just worried about Louis knocking all of the water out of the pool with his cannonballs.”

“Oh,” Jimmy whistled. “Yeah, he’s real good at that. Especially if he can hit Harvey with the wave.”

“You really want to have some fairytale life?” Katrina asked, drawing Mike's attention again. 

“I’m not saying I do, but I’m not going to tell it to get lost if it appears, either,” Esther argued back. “You know that. And there’s nothing wrong with it, either.”

“Ladies,” Stu interrupted. “I think you’re missing something.”

“Not now, Stu,” Katrina said, putting a hand up and not even looking at him. 

Stu’s eyes met Mike’s and a sense of wrongness hit him suddenly. “Uh, guys? Where’s Harold?” Mike asked. 

“He’s right--” Jimmy pointed to the steps, but they only had younger kids on them. No Harold. 

“Oh no,” Katrina cursed. “That idiot is actually doing it.”

“Okay, there’s romantic and then there’s stupid,” Esther said. 

“Harold!” Mike and Jimmy yelled. 

Harvey and Jessica looked over at the noise and then saw Harold standing at the deep end of the pool. His eyes were trained on Rachel, who had spotted him standing awkwardly there, waiting for his turn to dive. Harold gave a horribly awkward wave and stepped up to the edge. 

“Harold, what in God’s name are you doing?” Louis called out. 

Rachel Zane, impossibly beautiful lifeguard, actually waved back at Harold with a little smile. And that was all it took for Harold to commit to his plan. He dove in and that was when the other kids from the Sandlot all started to scream. 

“Harold!”

“Help! He can’t swim!”

“Harold, you idiot!”

Rachel hesitated only for a moment before realizing what had happened. Then she had thrown off her sunglasses and dove into the pool straight for Harold. She pulled him up and out and they all gathered around him, and before Rachel could even attempt to do anything else, Louis shoved his way in. 

“I know CPR!” he said and began to administer a breath followed by chest compressions. 

Mike’s heart pounded as he watched the scene unfold and it felt like everything faded to the background for an eternity as he waited for Harold to start breathing again. He looked pale and still, and a deep panic filled Mike’s chest. 

A spluttering cough sounded and then Harold was spitting up water and looking hopefully up at Rachel. “You saved me,” he smiled dreamily at her. 

She pushed his wet hair back from his face and said, “Actually, your friend here did. I just pulled you out of the pool. It’s a miracle you’re alright. Why did you dive in if you can’t swim?”

Harold’s face went even whiter than it had been. “What? L-Louis?” He looked up at the catcher, who had saved his life and then back at Rachel. “But… But it was supposed to be you.”

Rachel’s relieved expression turned to anger in a flash. “Wait, what? You did that on purpose? You little… conniving…”

“Run, Harold!” Jimmy shouted, and Rachel grabbed the pale boy’s arm, hauling him out of the pool area herself.

“You are banned. And your friends too!” She shook her head at them as they fled, their belongings clutched to their chests as they ran. 

As they left, Mike thought he spied the hint of a smile on her lips as she looked at them. He doubted she returned Harold’s feelings now, but maybe she respected his bravery a bit. That was worth something. Mike certainly hadn’t thought Harold could ever be that brave. Or stupid. 

“You are an idiot,” Jimmy told Harold. 

“Harold, I gotta say,” Harvey said, hand on Harold’s shoulder, “that was the best thing you have ever done.” He laughed and then put his hand on Louis’s arm. “Same goes for you. Well done, Louis.”

“Thank you, Harvey,” Louis replied in complete seriousness and a total lack of awareness of the concept of sarcasm or mockery. “Harold, are you okay?”

“Don’t talk to me right now, Louis,” Harold said, bitterness in his voice. “You’ve ruined my life.”

“Oh please, I saved you!”

“Boys,” Jessica warned. 

Mike paused as they all started down the street back to the Sandlot. The day had ended in laughter, and everyone seemed in much higher spirits now, the scare of Harold’s drowning gone. Only, for Mike, that pit of anxiousness in his stomach hadn’t left yet. He still felt stuck in that moment, that eternal moment, where Harold wasn’t breathing. That moment when Grammy told him his parents weren’t coming back home. That moment when Mike had learned that he was utterly and completely alone.

“Mike?” Harvey stood on the sidewalk, staring at him. The rest of the team had gone off ahead, laughing and cajoling one another. It was just the two of them straggling behind now. 

The terror of Harvey finding out just how pathetic he was, of embarrassing himself in front of him, enabled Mike to push down his feelings and shove a smile on his face. He wouldn’t risk his new friends, but especially Harvey, finding out how weak he was; that he had actually been nearly paralyzed by Harold’s near-death. “Sorry, I thought I left my hat back at the pool, but--” he pulled the worn blue cap onto his head and grinned. 

Harvey rolled his eyes at him. “Come on, genius. We have to catch up to the others now.” 

Mike forced himself to jog up to Harvey, the movement helping to make him feel more normal, more in control of himself. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m faster than you.” He sprinted ahead. 

“I’ve created a monster,” Harvey chuckled as he attempted to keep up. 

…..

“Michael?” Grammy’s voice called from the front of the house. “There’s a few of your friends here to see you!”

Before Mike had time to wonder who in the world Grammy could mean, his door flew open and Harvey, Stu, and Jessica strode inside and began touching things. 

“Wow, your room is messier than Harvey’s house,” Jessica snorted as she eyed a pile of laundry.

“That’s clean,” Mike defended. “I just didn’t have time to sort it.”

“Really? The Dodgers? Now, the Yankees is where it’s at!” Stu said, tossing a baseball around casually as he scoffed at the posters Mike had pinned up on his wall. They had been some of his dad’s favorite players, and while Mike hadn’t cared before, he was starting to now that he was at the Sandlot most days. 

“Oh please, the Red Sox are much better.” Harvey picked up the book Mike had been trying to hide under his pillow. “ Curious George ?”

Mike resisted the urge to snatch the book from Harvey’s hands and instead shrugged like it didn’t mean anything to him. “I was sorting through books Grammy kept. You know, to see what I should get rid of.” He dared a glance at Harvey’s eyes, but the boy’s expression was unreadable to Mike. 

Harvey frowned at the book and put it on the bookcase in Mike’s room. “Everyone has Curious George already.” 

A stack of books collapsed to the floor as Stu accidentally knocked into them while trying to investigate something on Mike’s dresser. “I’m so sorry,” he said, but he still snatched the papers he had been eyeing like he didn’t give one whit about Mike’s privacy. 

“Ooh, something good?” Jessica asked interestedly. 

“Alright,” Stu grinned around the large wad of gum he seemed to always be chewing. “You are a geek. But a cool geek.”

Jessica pried a few of the pages from Stu’s hands, despite Mike’s pleas for them to put the papers back. “You’re into this stuff?” The "stuff" was handwritten statistics Mike and his dad had copied down from various games they had been to. 

Again, Mike looked over at Harvey, worried the kid found him too much of a square now. But Harvey just sank onto the bed and was perusing Mike’s bookshelf, completely ignoring the rest of the conversation. “Uh, yeah. I used to be.”

The tall scary first baseman gave a shrug and put the papers down. “Guess we know who to ask to settle fights between you and Louis from now on.” She raised an eyebrow at Stu. 

Stu laughed and said, “Harold will be so disappointed to have competition.”

“What are these books? None of these seem like they’re from school.” Harvey’s voice startled Mike, who had somehow managed to forget he was sitting right beside him on the bed. 

“They’re my mom's,” Mike answered before he could even think about it. “I mean, they were.”

Harvey frowned, but he was still studying the books and not looking at Mike. Jessica and Stu seemed to be looking awkwardly at anything but Mike, and the silence just seemed to stretch on painfully into eternity. 

Grammy’s interruption was just what Mike needed. She pushed the door open. “Does anyone need any snacks? I have a nice new toaster now that I won at cards.”

“Grammy, don’t say you won it at cards! It sounds like you were playing poker at a saloon in the Wild West.”

“Oh, I would definitely win there,” Grammy grinned at him mischievously. “Especially with you to help.”

“Grammy,” Mike blushed, feeling like she was embarrassing him in front of the other kids. His friends. And it clicked suddenly for Mike, that these other kids really were his friends. They had come over to see him, to hang out with him. 

“Are you admitting to cheating at cards, Mrs. Ross?” Harvey smirked at her. 

“Of course not! I don’t need to cheat to beat anyone. Michael certainly doesn’t, either, with his memory. Well, unless he’s trying to beat me. Then he probably would have to resort to cheating.”

“Grammy!” Mike was mortified. “I think we’re okay on snacks. Thank you!” He got up and practically forced her out of his room, slamming the door shut behind him as he pressed his back against it. 

Jessica was smiling at him. “I like your grandma. She’s funny.”

“Makes me miss home, eh, Brooklyn?” Stu bumped Mike’s shoulder with a soft punch. 

Harvey picked up the copy of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit that Mike had been reading. “Mind if I borrow this?”

Had it been anyone else, Mike knew he would have said no. But it was Harvey asking him and for some reason it made all the difference. “Sure. Just… you know, be careful with it.”

Harvey nodded and leaned back against the wall and made himself comfortable on the bed as he started to read. 

Jessica and Stu sank down on the floor and started to debate over their favorite teams and which players were best, asking Mike if he knew the statistics for them. Mike eventually joined them and after a little while, he found himself just enjoying the moment. So this was what it was like just being a normal kid and hanging out with friends. Even with Trevor, it had never felt like this. 

After a few minutes he checked on Harvey with a glance and found the boy looking over at him with a small smirk. Mike smiled back. For the first time since his parents had been taken from him, he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

…..

“I’ve got it!” Harold yelled, even as Mike and Jimmy ran towards him. 

Harvey had hit the ball hard and Mike was sure it was on its way over the neighbor’s fence. He tried to warn Harold about the ball’s trajectory, but the blonde boy was too focused. 

“I’ve got--” With a loud thunk , Harold slammed into the wooden fence of the yard that abutted center field. He took a couple steps back and then fell hard onto his butt. 

Mike and Jimmy arrived and stood over him, the dark-skinned boy looking more entertained than he was concerned. “Harold. That was amazing.”

“Harold, are you okay?” Mike asked, shooting a look at Jimmy that maybe he should be a little bit more interested in Harold’s well-being. 

“Oh, yeah,” Harold said, looking up at them with a smile. “Hey, did I catch it?”

Jimmy frowned and put a hand on Harold’s shoulder. “No, buddy. You didn’t. The Beast has that one now.”

“The Beast?” Mike asked. 

“Great job, Harvey!” Katrina yelled, and Mike didn’t think she sounded happy. 

“Yeah!” Esther joined in. “Now we can’t play!”

“Don’t be such a downer,” Harvey said as they all jogged up to the fenceline. 

“Harold, you’re an idiot,” Louis said. “How many times do I have to tell you to look at where you’re going? You can’t see a whole fence?”

Harold looked up at Louis with a frown. “Why are you being mean to me?”

“Okay, this is ridiculous,” Mike said, pulling Harold up to his feet with Jimmy’s help. “Why don’t we just go over to the neighbor and ask for the ball back?”

“Really? Tell the scary old guy that we constantly hit baseballs into his yard? No way! He’ll get us kicked out of the Sandlot!” Katrina said, crossing her arms. 

“And even if he didn’t, he’d just sic the Beast on us!” Harold added, finally managing to join the conversation coherently. 

“Anyone got any change?” Jessica asked, clearly intent on just buying another ball. 

“Okay, can someone please explain what the Beast is?”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “It’s a big dog. And the last kid who went to get the ball back from there was Daniel and he almost got bit. Forget it, Mike. We’ll just buy a new one.”

Mike glanced at each of them as they dug through their pockets and produced little more than a nickel, some chewing gum, and a pile of lint. His eyes met Stu’s, and then Harvey’s. “This is ridiculous.” He didn’t know what had gotten into him. Normally it was the kind of thing that Trevor would have done and Mike would have begged him not to. But these were his friends now, and he was determined to repay their kindness to him somehow. Besides, it was just a dog, right?

As the others discussed where to get the remaining change needed to buy a new baseball, Mike sneaked off and began to climb the fence. 

“Mike, what are you doing?” Louis asked, reaching to pull him down. He only managed to snag Mike’s ankle for a second before Mike pulled it free. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promised them. 

“Mike!” they shouted at him and rushed over to the fence, trying to stop him, trying to find a hole in the slats so they could watch. 

With a soft thud, Mike landed in the dirt-filled backyard of the neighbor’s house. It was full of scattered piles of junk and a hoard of baseballs, all in various stages of decay. The Beast lay huddled by a large pile of scrap, the fresh baseball beside him and already covered in a thin layer of slobber. 

Slowly, Mike edged his way forward, hand outstretched, prepared to grab the baseball. 

A large eye looked up at him and Mike’s heart stopped. He snatched the baseball and ran as fast as he could, the dog chasing after him. The Beast was nearly half his size and entirely made of muscle. It leapt after Mike and he scrambled over the fence and back into the Sandlot only to see the dog sailing over after him. 

“Run, Mike!” Harvey screamed. 

Mike clambered to his feet and ran. It was just like that first day in town, when he had met Harvey, only this time he had the baseball, his prize, clutched in his fist. This time he had more on the line than just his skin. His friends were counting on him! 

He ran through the street until he got to a back alley, stumbling into a trash can as he rounded the corner. It clattered to the ground behind him, the lid rolling off into the distance. It didn't even slow the Beast. The great big dog just leapt over it and continued the hunt. 

Mike angled out of the alleyway and towards the road that lead to the pool. He ducked past some older teens, who screamed as the Beast tore past them. Mike was pretty sure he saw Rachel sitting in the lifeguard tower again, but he didn't have much more time to look than that. He had to keep running. 

He decided that he needed to get back to the Sandlot. Maybe he could somehow at least get the ball to another kid and they could tire out the Beast. Maybe. If he could get back. So he headed around the next alley and back towards where it had all begun. 

Finally, he came back into the Sandlot, prepared to do another circle, when he glanced behind him and saw the dog tiring. They both stopped and stared at each other. The dog panted and leapt. Mike staggered back as the large dog barreled at him, knocking him to the ground. 

“Mike!” the others cried. 

“Wait!” Mike yelled at them, and he began to laugh at the ticklish sensation of the warm wet dog tongue lapping at his face. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Esther laughed. 

“I hate dogs,” Louis sighed. “This is why cats are the superior animal.”

“Shut up, Louis,” Jessica said. 

“Achoo!” sneezed Harold. 

“Alright, good boy.” Harvey pushed the dog gently off of Mike, who sat up and started to pet the large dog. The dog’s tail began to wag happily at the attention. 

“So much for the Beast,” Mike grinned up at them all.

“Yeah, yeah, you were terrified of this thing,” Harvey said and held up a hand to help him up. 

Mike held up the baseball triumphantly. “But I did get the ball. We should probably return this guy, though.”

“I’m not doing it,” Esther said. Jimmy nodded as well, looking scared. 

“Harvey, you should go with him. You’re the one who hit it over the fence in the first place. We’ll wait here.”

Harvey and Mike started the walk to the neighbor’s house. “That was incredibly stupid of you, you know. Imagine your grandmother finding out you’d been killed by a dog.”

Mike frowned and stopped walking. “Harvey…”

The older boy winced and faced him. “I was just joking, Mike. I didn’t mean--”

“You’re right. I just wanted to prove,” he began, but trailed off, not sure how to finish that thought. 

Harvey studied him for a long moment and finally put a hand on his shoulder. “Next time, you tell us what you’re planning first. That way we can help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah, you know. That’s what friends are for.”

Friends helped each other, Mike thought. Was that true? He had helped Trevor all the time. In return, Trevor had kept him safe. It had been a mutually beneficial relationship, but had it been more than transactional? “Thanks, Harvey.”

“Now, let’s get this guy home. We have lots more daylight left to play.”

…..

“We showed those jerks!” Jimmy cheered and hung an arm around Mike and Harold’s necks. “I say we celebrate!”

“Celebrate?” Jessica laughed. “How, Jimmy? You planning on treating us somehow?”

“Uh, no. I meant, uh.”

“Enjoy the victory. But it doesn’t mean anything. Those guys are idiots.”

“Pfft, a bunch of rich wannabe losers,” Louis growled. 

“Louis, we won. Let it go,” Esther pleaded with him. 

“That’s right!” Katrina said. “You tell it like it is, Louis!”

Harvey rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we call it a night. It’s getting too dark to play, anyway.”

“Sounds good,” Stu agreed. He patted Mike’s shoulder. “Good hitting today, Brooklyn! You might be going places someday.”

Mike shook his head. “Goodnight, Stu. Goodnight, everyone.”

They parted ways and Mike fell into step beside Harvey as they made their way along their usual route. 

“Hey, Mike, want to eat dinner at my place tonight?” Harvey asked him, sounding almost too casual about it. Mike got the feeling that Harvey might actually be nervous. 

“Yeah! I’d love to!” Oh no, that sounded too eager. He blushed and said, “Um, I mean, sure. Yeah, I guess.”

Harvey smirked at him, clearly not convinced by Mike’s attempt at hiding his excitement. “We’d better tell Grammy first. Then we can head to my place.”

“You’re calling her Grammy, now?” Mike laughed. 

“She insisted,” Harvey shrugged. Mike could swear he saw a faint blush in Harvey’s cheeks. 

“Sure.”

Grammy wasn’t home when Mike and Harvey walked in, but she had left a note telling him she had gone to bridge and would be back late and that dinner was in the fridge if he was hungry. Mike was happy that she had found some friends, too. He just hoped they were as good as the ones he had found. 

After leaving a note of his own for Grammy, Mike walked with Harvey over to the Specter house. 

“My dad might be home late tonight. He said he might have a show to play. But my mom was going to make chicken parm for dinner and it’s my favorite.” Harvey tried to say all of this as casually as possible, but Mike got the feeling that he was excited or maybe even nervous. Harvey, nervous? That was an impossible concept to him. The older kid had always been cool and confident. 

“If it’s as good as my Grammy’s spaghetti, then I’m already planning on seconds,” Mike grinned at him, feeling a nervous excitement of his own at the prospect of spending more time with Harvey. 

“Knowing you, you’ll want thirds,” Harvey rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. 

Harvey made to pull open the front door and frowned when it was locked. He dug around under the planters on the front porch for a moment before pulling out a spare key and unlocking the door. “That’s weird. Maybe my mom had to go to the store for something.”

Mike shrugged, not sure if Harvey was overreacting or underreacting. Back in Brooklyn, if you didn’t lock your door then you were inviting trouble. But here in California, it just seemed that everyone left their door unlocked if they were home and even sometimes if they weren’t! 

They stepped inside and set their hats and baseball gloves down on a stack of records scattered on a side table. “You want something to drink?” Harvey asked, still sporting an uneasy frown. 

“I’m good,” Mike said, wanting to see Harvey’s room. After all, it was only fair. Harvey had invaded his own room with Jessica and Stu and they had made themselves at home. Mike wished he had the confidence to do the same. 

“Alright, well, I guess my mom and Marcus aren’t home. Dad must have gone to that show, too. We can hang out in my room for now. There’s too much clutter out here.” He gestured to the stacks of records lying around. 

Mike suppressed a grin and followed Harvey down the hall to the bedrooms where they heard noise. It sounded like someone laughing. “Do you hear that?” 

They crept forward, Harvey grabbing a baseball bat from his room. They exchanged anxious glances before Harvey pushed open the door to the back bedroom and hefted the bat, ready to swing. 

“Ah!” Mrs. Specter screamed in surprise as the door burst open to reveal the threatening form of Harvey and the bat. 

“Mom?” Harvey asked, lowering the bat to his shoulder. 

“What is it?” a deep male voice asked, appearing suddenly in view. He was only half dressed, his shirt missing and revealing a muscled chest covered in hair, and trousers not fully closed. As he caught sight of Harvey wielding the bat, his eyes narrowed and he put up his fists. “Get out of here you little punks!”

“Tony!” Lily said, moving forward and wrapping a hand around his bicep. “It’s okay, it’s just Harvey and… and his friend. Harvey, this is Tony. You remember your cousin Tony, right?”

Harvey frowned as he stared at them and Mike noticed that he hadn’t lowered the bat and Tony hadn’t lowered his fists. “What’s he doing here?”

“He was just visiting and--”

“Fixing the bathroom sink,” Tony said, dropping his fists. “My shirt got wet. Put the bat down, kid. You’re scaring your mom.”

Harvey gave him a dark look but dropped the bat to his side. “Where’s Marcus?”

Lily smiled at him and handed Tony his shirt, which Mike noticed was dry as a bone. “He went with your father to his show. He wanted to watch him play. Thanks for fixing the sink, Tony.”

“Sure thing, Lily. Call me if it needs a little tweaking,” he said and winked at her. He pushed past Harvey and Mike and said, “Little punks.” They heard the front door open and close. 

“Now, is anyone hungry or thirsty?” Lily asked. When neither of them responded, she moved to walk past them. “How about I whip you up some snacks before I start on dinner. And Harvey, let’s not tell your father about Tony fixing the sink, okay? They don’t get along and your dad would get upset.” 

She walked down the hall and into the kitchen, brushing back her hair and tugging on her dress to smooth it down. 

They both just stood there for a long moment, the silence stretched and awkward. Mike had no idea what to do or say, but he was terrified that whatever it was would be the wrong thing. And then he thought about how he felt when he heard his parents had died. How alone he had felt, how angry and upset. He looked at Harvey and he had no idea what the other boy was feeling or thinking, but Mike knew what he wanted to do. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, praying that Harvey wouldn’t push him away. 

The bat made a soft thud on the carpeted hallway floor and then Harvey’s strong arms returned Mike’s embrace. His hold was hesitant and Mike could feel him trembling a little. They stood like that for a long moment before Harvey gave a shuddering breath and stepped back. He looked more like he did the first time Mike had ever met him; calm, cool, but a bit walled off. 

“Want to see my baseball card collection?” Harvey asked casually, like they hadn’t just witnessed something monumentally traumatic seconds ago. 

Mike nodded at him. “Okay.” He wouldn’t leave Harvey alone now. Mike knew how it felt to be alone after a loss. He wouldn’t do that to Harvey. If a bit of forced normalcy was what made Harvey feel better, then Mike would give it to him. 

…..

After the awkward night at Harvey’s, Mike made an effort to stick by him, despite the boy’s best efforts to remain distant. Harvey never outright told him he wanted to be alone, and until he did, Mike felt a need to keep close to him. There was a strong feeling of protectiveness growing in him whenever he looked at Harvey now, like all he wanted in the world was to make the other boy feel better. 

The others at the Sandlot acted like nothing was different. Like nothing odd had happened a few days ago at Harvey’s that made him change in subtle ways. Harvey still made jokes, still played baseball just as well, but he seemed a tiny bit colder, more distant, than he used to be. And when no one was paying attention to him, there was a sad, blank look to his face. Mike didn’t know if the others noticed or suspected anything, if they were just being polite or if they were completely ignorant. He wasn’t going to say anything, though. If Harvey didn’t want to talk about it with them, that was fine. 

One night, as the sun began to set and they all dispersed for the evening, Mike joined Harvey for their usual walk home. 

“You know, we don’t have to walk together all the time,” Harvey said. His voice was flat as though he didn’t care about Mike’s answer or if he responded at all. 

“I like walking with you,” Mike told him, and just dug his hand into his pocket and continued his pace by Harvey’s side. “You know you can come over whenever you want, right? Grammy might actually like you more than she likes me.”

“What’s not to like?”  Harvey grinned, but it didn’t light up his eyes the way it normally did.

“And so humble,” Mike laughed. 

“The most,” Harvey agreed. 

“Hey, buttface!” a voice called and they stopped abruptly to look at who had shouted at them. 

Mike felt a weird knot begin to form in the pit of his stomach as he saw Trevor jogging out to meet him. “Trevor?” But that didn’t make sense. Trevor was back in New York. Trevor couldn’t be here. 

The dark haired boy he had grown up with punched him hard on the shoulder and then pulled him forcibly in for a hug. “Mikey! You alright? You need help or something?” He eyed Harvey suspiciously, looking ready to fight. 

Harvey gave him an appraising look and Mike got the feeling that the two boys instantly disliked one another. 

“No, Trev. This is Harvey. He’s my friend. Harvey, this is--”

“Trevor.” Harvey crossed his arms and glared at the dark-haired boy. 

Trevor didn’t seem fazed at all and wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulders. “Friend?” He mussed Mike’s hair with a strong grip as he chuckled. “Good job, Mikey! I’m impressed! So what do you do for him, huh? It’s summer. He got some summer homework or something?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Mike defended, trying to free himself unsuccessfully. He felt embarrassed by the way Trevor was treating him, though it had never bothered him before. But he didn’t want Harvey to think less of him. 

“We play baseball,” Harvey said.

This only made things worse as Trevor burst out laughing. “ Baseball ? Mike?! What do you do, Michael? Pick up the bats? Rake the field?”

Mike blushed in deep embarrassment. Trevor certainly knew about all of Mike’s dad's failed attempts to get him to be more athletic. “I can play,” he tried. 

“I’ve gotta see this,” Trevor said. “Tomorrow you can show me. Nice meeting you, Harrison.”

“It’s Harvey,” Mike corrected.

“Mike,” Harvey began. 

Mike resisted Trevor tugging on him and turned to face his friend. “Yeah?”

Harvey seemed to go cold suddenly. “Have fun with your friend. See you around.” He turned and left before Mike could stop him. 

“Harvey, wait!”

But Trevor was pulling on him. “C’mon, Mike. Your grammy’s making dinner and I’m starving. Plus, I wanna hear about how you’re cheating at sports.”

“I’m not cheating!” Mike insisted, but he glanced back at the retreating form of Harvey. “What are you doing here, Trevor?”

“Visiting you! Well, okay, so my dad had a thing he had to do in California, and I pretty much begged him to take me with so I could see you. I got to go on a plane and everything. First class, too.” Trevor walked up to Mike’s house, but there was no extra, unfamiliar car in the driveway or parked on the street outside. 

“Oh. Cool. So, how long are you here for?” 

“The summer,” Trevor said. 

“Oh! Wow,” Mike said, taken aback. He should be happy at that news. His best friend staying all summer? So why was he not excited? If anything, he thought he felt angry. 

Trevor narrowed his eyes at Mike for a moment before pulling open the front door. 

“Hi Mrs. Ross,” Trevor said as he stepped inside. 

“Hello Trevor,” Grammy said from the kitchen. She was making one of Mike’s favorites - spaghetti. The aroma filled the whole house and Mike immediately forgot about his strange feelings and put his glove down on the table.

“Michael, you better not have put that filthy baseball glove down on my nice clean table,” Grammy said, her face never leaving the stove.

Mike snapped up the glove and stuffed it behind him as he sat on a chair. “Sorry, Grammy.” 

“Smells amazing, Mrs. Ross,” Trevor said as he sat down as well. Mike realized that Trevor might refer to ‘Grammy’ now and then, but when he spoke to her, he never used that term. It was always ‘Mrs. Ross’. But Harvey used ‘Grammy’. Harvey. Mike wondered if Harvey was okay on his own every night at that house. It must be awful to sit there and pretend like nothing was wrong. They were just kids, and admittedly, it had taken Mike a bit to really realize what he and Harvey had seen that night, but he knew. And if Mike knew, Harvey did too. 

“Right Mike?” Trevor was asking. “Hello? Anyone in there?” He tapped on Mike’s head. 

“Ow! Trev!” Mike batted at his hand. 

“Boys, you had better behave in my house,” Grammy warned. She gave Trevor a disapproving glare. She handed them each a plate of dinner. “I’m sure Michael is very happy you’re here for a few days, Trevor.”

“No, you’re here for the summer,” Mike said, confused. 

“That’s a great idea, Mikey! What do you say, Mrs. Ross? Can I stay for the rest of the summer? For Mike!” Trevor gave her an innocent and charming smile. 

Grammy frowned and looked at Mike, who was completely shocked somehow by Trevor’s stunt. “I think I’ll have to talk to your father and see what his plans are.”

“He won’t care,” Trevor said dismissively. “Alright! Now, you have to show me this baseball stuff. I can’t believe you’re actually trying to play. There must be something else going on, right?”

Grammy was quiet as she poured her signature spaghetti sauce on everyone’s pasta. 

“I mean, everyone knows you suck at sports.”

Mike picked up his fork and started to play with the pasta rather than eating it. “I’m pretty good, actually.”

Trevor burst out laughing. “Okay, this I’ve gotta see.”

…..

When Mike headed for the Sandlot the next day, he had Trevor with him. He didn’t see Harvey on his way there, and worry started to make the knot in his stomach grow tighter. 

“Hang back for a minute, okay? I have to make sure it’s okay you’re here.”

Trevor frowned and snorted in derision. “C’mon, Mikey. It’s me.”

“It’s just… It’s a thing, okay? Trust me.” Mike made sure Trevor waited before heading into the Sandlot. 

Everyone else was there or just arriving. Everyone except Harvey. 

“Where’s Harvey? He’s usually here with you,” Stu said, looking around for their missing pitcher. 

“He wasn’t waiting for me like usual,” Mike said, the worry growing. 

“Great! Now we can’t play!” Jimmy said and Harold added a melodramatic groan. 

Mike cleared his throat. “Actually… I was wondering if it was okay to have my friend come watch us play for a bit. He’s visiting me from New York--”

“Alright!” Stu interrupted. 

“--and I wanted to make sure it was okay with everyone else first.”

They all stared at him for a long moment. Finally, Jessica smiled and put her hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Mike, you’re a good guy. He’s your friend, so he can come.” She looked around again, clearly hoping to see Harvey. When he didn’t appear, she added, “He happen to know how to pitch?” 

A few minutes later and some reshuffling of their usual positions, Mike brought Trevor over to meet everyone. Unlike with Harvey the night before, Trevor was his most charming self. There was a reason the boy was popular at school. Esther seemed especially interested in him, which meant that Louis seemed to hate him instantly. For some reason, that made Mike feel better. 

“Alright, enough chitchat. Let’s play ball!” Louis groused. 

“Whoa, what’s with him?” Trevor asked, snorting at Louis’s obvious anger. 

Mike shrugged and said, “He’s not wrong. Let’s go already.” And then added a phrase that Harvey usually said. “Come on, everyone, we’re wasting daylight!”

Louis frowned, gave Mike a completely confused expression, and then nodded at him finally, like he had come to some satisfying conclusion. 

Normally, Harvey would be their pitcher. But since he was absent, and Trevor did not know how to pitch, Harold was apparently their next best option. The only problem was that Harold was wary of Louis. 

“Hurry up, Harold! My twenty-year old blind cat moves faster than you.”

Esther rolled her eyes. “Honeypot is really sweet. But she is blind.”

Harold swallowed nervously and let out a long breath before finally throwing his first pitch. It thudded into Louis’s mitt. The catcher frowned at it for a moment before nodding. “I guess that’ll do. Again!”

Harold glared at him and then wound up and threw again. His pitches got faster each time, until Louis held onto the ball and declared that the new kid was up first. 

Trevor grinned and sauntered over to the plate. He let the first pitch go by, then the second. The third, he hit out past Katrina to roll on the grass near Jimmy and Mike, who was covering Harold’s position at Center. 

“Not bad,” Jessica said to Trevor as he stood at first base. 

Trevor grinned and gave Mike a wave. 

“Mike!” Louis called. 

Mike started to jog over and Trevor called out to him as he passed him. “Go get ‘em, Mikey!”

It was wrong, Mike thought. Trevor shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be the one calling out to him. Harvey normally did that. It shouldn’t be Harold on the pitcher’s mound, but Harvey. Mike gripped the bat in his hands, the woodgrain feeling sleek and worn under his tense hold. 

Louis lifted his mask and frowned at him. “You okay?”

Words of comfort from Louis ? Mike must be losing it, he thought. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” No, I’m not. Trevor is here. Trevor, who only ever saw me be a loser at sports. Trevor, who tried to help me prove myself to my dad. Trevor, who doesn’t call Grammy by her nickname. Not like Harvey. 

Smack! Pain exploded in Mike’s head and he vaguely realized he was lying against the dirt of the Sandlot. 

“Mike!” That voice sounded familiar. Harsh and concerned, which was right and wrong somehow. Louis. “You okay?”

“Oh no,” Harold cried. “I killed Mike!”

“Ow,” Mike said, and rubbed at the spot where the ball had hit him. “Maybe we should invest in helmets.”

“He’s talking sense. Must have hit him hard,” Stu said, slapping Harold on the back. 

The poor blond boy had tears streaming down his face. 

“Harold, he’s fine!”

Both Esther and Katrina were too busy comforting Harold to pay any attention to Mike, and Jessica frowned, like she was considering the suggestion Mike had made. “Helmets,” she repeated quietly. 

Someone whistled and Mike looked up to see Trevor grinning at him. “Wow, that’s a nice bruise. Guess your curse continues, huh?”

Mike frowned and got to his feet. “I’m good. Let’s get back to playing.”

“Mike,” Louis started, clearly wanting to protest. 

“No,” Jessica said. “You got hit in the head, Mike. Hard. I think you should take it easy today. We’ll call it for now. Harvey’s not here anyway.”

“Mike, I am so sorry!” Harold started. 

“You and I are going to stay here and practice,” Louis growled. 

Normally, Jessica was the one who pitched for Harvey, but she didn’t like pitching for longer, so she had elected Harold. Maybe that was why she looked slightly guilty and added, “I’ll stay and help too.”

So they disbanded, with everyone else leaving and Jessica, Louis, and Harold staying behind to practice pitching. Mike started down his usual route with Trevor beside him this time. 

“Too bad you got hit. But maybe it was for the best, yeah? That way you wouldn’t have been embarrassed or nothing.” Trevor smiled at him like he was just joking. 

“I can play, Trev.”

“Sure you can, Mike.” 

“I can,” Mike said, voice getting defensive. “Harvey taught me. I’m actually pretty good.”

Trevor shrugged. “Well, I’m sure Harvey tells you that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, okay? It just seems like he’s maybe keeping you around for a reason, you know? I bet you told him how smart you are, right? Probably wants you to do his homework come school time.”

“Harvey wouldn’t do that!” Mike argued, anger flooding his voice. 

Trevor sighed. “They all do that, Michael. You’re smart. You’re not good at sports. It’s just the way it is.”

“I am good at baseball!” Mike shouted at him. 

Trevor looked sheepish for a moment and said, “I know you want to be, Mike. I get it. You know you don’t have to, though, right? You don’t have anything to prove to him anymore. He’s gone.”

And it was like an icy fist had clenched Mike’s heart, freezing all the air in his lungs. He’s gone. His dad. His mom. His parents were gone. It wasn’t like Mike had forgotten. He felt their loss every day. But the past few weeks in California, at the Sandlot, with his friends - with Harvey - had made that loss bearable. And now Trevor was here and it was all brought back again. “Shut up,” Mike told him, his voice now quiet but more on edge. 

Trevor stepped closer. “Mike. I’m sorry.” At last, the dark-haired boy seemed to sense he had gone too far. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t,” Mike warned. “Get away from me.” He turned and started walking away. He didn’t care which way he was going, but he wasn’t going home and he wasn’t staying near Trevor. 

“Michael. Please.” Trevor started to follow him. 

“Leave me alone!” Mike began to pick up the pace, trying to get away, but Trevor followed. 

“I’m not going to leave. Not until you talk to me,” Trevor insisted. 

Mike let out a frustrated yell and began to run. He was the fastest kid at the Sandlot. He had been faster than the Beast. And it turned out he was much faster than Trevor. 

By the time he stopped running, gasping for air as he stood in front of the library building, he couldn’t even see Trevor. The boy must have given up a few blocks back but Mike hadn’t noticed. His head was now pounding from where the baseball had hit him and the bright light of the sun was making him feel sick. He hurried up the few steps into the cool and quiet public library building. 

If there was any space that Mike loved more than the Sandlot, it was a library. So many books just waiting to be read. His mom had loved taking him with her. If there was a book she liked, she would go to the bookstore and buy a copy, then reread it before placing it on an esteemed shelf of Nina Ross approved literature. Mike had her whole collection now. Except for The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit . Harvey still had that one. “Harvey,” Mike sighed as he leaned against one of the stacks in the non-fiction section. 

“Mike?”

Mike jumped and nearly knocked a stack over as he leaned back in surprise. He hadn’t expected a response, certainly not from Harvey himself. “Harvey?”

“Shhh!” a distant voice scolded. 

“Over here,” Harvey whispered from the other side of the stack. Mike bent down and peered over the tops of the books in the stack and through the gap he saw his friend. 

Mike navigated his way to the other side of the aisle to join Harvey. “Where were you this morning?”

“Oh. Sorry. I needed to be alone.” Harvey looked behind Mike, as though he was looking for someone. “Your friend isn’t with you?”

“No,” Mike answered, his voice laced with anger as he thought of Trevor. “I wanted to be alone.”

Harvey nodded. 

Mike swallowed and realized Harvey had said the same thing and now Mike was here ruining his plan of solitude. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I’ll just… Uh, you know. Be in the next aisle.” He gestured stupidly behind him and beside him before just turning and walking to the row he had come from. 

At least he had found Harvey and it was good to see the boy was alright. Mike felt guilty for leaving him alone the night before but Trevor had shown up and he hadn’t known what to do. Trevor had just kind of taken over like he always did. And Mike tended to do what Trevor did. That was how they had always been. Maybe Mike was overreacting to his best friend’s words. If anyone knew first hand the emotional turmoil Mike had gone through in trying to please his dad, it was Trevor. Was it really wrong to be upset that Trevor was glad Mike didn’t have to try to please the man anymore? 

Yes, Mike thought. Because it meant that in some small way, Trevor was glad Mike’s dad was gone. It was better to be upset over not making his dad happy than to never have his dad at all. 

And then there was Harvey. What must he be feeling? What was he thinking about? If he told his dad what he saw, he would lose his parents being together. But they weren’t really together as it was, were they? Either way, Harvey had lost his parents. Maybe not like Mike had; they were still alive, after all. But the version of them that Harvey had known was gone. 

“Hey, Mike?” Harvey whispered. 

“Yeah?”

“You want to be alone…together?”

“Yeah,” Mike said. And before he could do more than turn around, Harvey was in the same row as him. He slid to the floor and leaned against the bottom shelves. Mike did the same. 

“I don’t know what to do.” Harvey stared across at the books opposite him, his gaze not wavering. 

Mike licked his lips as he thought carefully about what to say to his friend. “I don’t either,” Mike said. 

“I hate her for it.” Harvey’s hands clenched into tight fists, but he still kept his gaze focused on the books. Mike swallowed and wasn’t quite sure what to say. He wanted to tell Harvey that he had every right to hate her. But also she was his mom and she loved him. “But… She’s alive still. For me to hate her for it.”

Mike winced but he took a calming deep breath. “I think maybe instead of trying to please my dad, I should have just talked to him. Maybe he would still have been unhappy that I sucked at football or couldn’t throw a baseball or do anything else. But at least I could have tried to find some kind of compromise. I think we did, in the end. But we never actually talked about it. Maybe if we had, it could have happened sooner and I would have gotten to enjoy more of that time with him before he died.”

Harvey tilted his head back and let it rest against the shelf behind them. “I don’t want to know why she did it. I want…”

“You want things the way they were,” Mike finished for him. 

Harvey finally turned to look at him and Mike was surprised to find that he looked guilty. Then they widened before Harvey leaned in close and studied his face. “Who hit you? Was it Trevor?”

“What?” Mike asked, completely shocked. “No! It was Harold.”

That made Harvey blink at him in astonishment. “ Harold ? Harold Gunderson ? That Harold?”

“I guess. I didn’t know his last name, actually,” Mike admitted. “But yeah. Hit me with a pitch.”

“Oh no. I wasn’t there.” Harvey’s guilty expression only seemed to grow. 

“Really, we should just have helmets,” Mike said. “I told Jessica.”

Harvey groaned. “Mike, why didn’t you go home? That’s a huge bruise!”

“Shhhh!” an angry voice called again. 

Now it was Mike’s turn to look guilty. He crossed his arms and sighed. “I just wanted to be alone.”

“So Trevor did do something.” Harvey’s eyes appeared to shine with a deep anger that startled Mike and yet made him feel very pleased. 

“No! I mean, well, kind of. But it’s not like he hit me or anything. He just… We got into an argument. Or, actually, he was just being Trevor, I guess.” Usually Mike put up with it, but this time had been different. Because of Harvey. Harvey had taught him to play catch, had helped him be more confident in himself. Mike had needed to keep Trevor happy before because without him his life was miserable. Now he was happy and he had no need to please Trevor. 

Harvey let out an irritated sigh and said, “Well, you need some ice for your face.” He got to his feet and held out a hand to help Mike up. “Come on. I’ll ask Grammy for some for you and you can let me deal with Trevor.”

Mike smiled. “I should talk to him.”

“Maybe after you don’t have baseball stitch marks embedded into your skull.”

Mike laughed as they stepped out of the stacks. 

“Shhh!” an irate voice called out to them. 

“We’re leaving!” Harvey growled back and grabbed Mike’s hand to pull him quickly from the library. Only, when they were out on the street, Mike noticed that Harvey hadn’t let go. He wasn’t going to say anything, though, in case the boy realized it. Mike just smiled to himself at it. 

It felt good to feel alone together. 

….

“Hey,” Trevor said, getting to his feet the second he saw Mike and Harvey approach. 

Mike was surprised that the other boy didn’t even spare Harvey a glance. All of Trevor’s focus seemed to be on Mike. Still, he thought he could feel Harvey grow tense beside him. “Hey.”

“Can we talk?” Trevor asked, strangely contrite. 

“Yeah.” Mike told Harvey to meet him inside. 

Harvey gave Trevor a dark look as he passed him, then turned to look at Mike over his shoulder. Was that concern on his face or just Mike’s imagination?

“I didn’t mean to piss you off, Mike,” Trevor said. Again, it was startling how serious he was being. It was definitely not how he thought of him. 

“Well you did. I’m not helpless here without you, Trevor. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

Trevor's face darkened, but he gave a flippant shrug, as if he was changing tactics. "Yeah, maybe."

Mike frowned and crossed his arms. He wanted to get that ice for his head, which by now was really starting to pound, but he needed to do this. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Trevor gave another shrug. "Nothing. You're right, Mike. You're fine. You lost your parents and your best friend, moved away from the only place you ever knew, but you have new friends now, so it's all fine ." He stepped closer to Mike. "Just don't come crying to me when they ditch you later. When they beat you up and call you names for being the weird kid. When they ask you to do their homework for them."

Mike felt like Trevor had punched him in the gut. They wouldn't do that. The kids at the Sandlot, they were his friends. They wouldn't… But Mike felt his words dig into him, and he couldn't help but be afraid of the future Trevor presented. It had happened before. Kids cozying up to him, pretending to be his friend, only to pull a prank on him or to get him to do their work. Trevor might have begged an occasional homework copy from Mike, but he never hit him, never let anyone hurt Mike when he was around. "They're not like that," Mike said, trying to believe the words. Harvey wasn't like that, he told himself. 

Trevor shook his head. "Aren't you sick of trying to please people by pretending to be something you're not?"

His dad, Mike thought. Trevor was talking about his dad again. Anger flooded him, but he couldn't seem to wrestle his feelings into words. 

"You're not good at sports. You're not popular. You're. Not. Like. Them. You're a geek, Mike. I'm okay with that. Are they?" Trevor asked. 

Mike had known all of that, of course, but hearing Trevor say it so easily hurt. Trevor was supposed to be his best friend, was supposed to help Mike, be there for him, happy for him, not make him feel like this. "They're my friends," he said, his voice wavering more than he had intended. 

"You're fresh meat, that's all. As soon as the shine wears off of you, they'll figure out who you really are. Just like everyone else. Only, I can't be here to protect you." Trevor seemed to be angry, almost wounded, which was strange. He was saying such hurtful things, as though Mike had hurt him and initiated all this. 

But as Trevor spoke, something changed in Mike. 'You're not good at sports.' 'You're fresh meat…' Mike felt like something had snapped as he realized that Trevor was wrong. "I don't need you to protect me anymore."

Trevor sneered. "Because you have Harvey ?"

"No," Mike said. "Because I am good at sports. At least I'm good at baseball. I'm faster than anyone else at the Sandlot. And yeah, I was fresh meat. The first time I went to the Sandlot, I was a joke. But Harvey taught me how to play and I went back. And now I'm on the team . I don't need you anymore, Trevor. I'm doing great here."

"Harvey taught you. Harvey is so great!" Trevor whined in a mocking tone. 

Mike clenched his fists, his face flushing in anger. For some reason the idea that anyone would even think of harming or insulting Harvey made him unreasonably mad. "Yeah, he is. He's a hell of a lot better than you!"

Trevor gaped, stunned, and looked like he was about to cry. "Mikey," he said softly. 

"And if you say anything ever again about it being a good thing that my parents are gone, I'll beat the shit out of you," Mike growled, and walked past him and into the house. He closed the door and let out a shaking breath. He had not planned to say that last bit to Trevor, but he had been so angry at him earlier. He couldn't believe Trevor would say all that stuff to him. He was supposed to have Mike's back. He was supposed to make him feel less alone, not more. 

"You okay?" Harvey asked, looking at him with stunningly open concern. 

Mike swallowed and managed a nod. He didn't know if he was okay, but he wasn't alone. He didn't have Trevor anymore, but he wasn't alone. That thought was enough to steady him. "I could really use that ice."

"Come on," Harvey said, and took Mike’s hand again, much to Mike's delight, to lead him into the kitchen. 

"Michael, I thought you were getting better at baseball," Grammy said with a grin as she handed him a pack of frozen peas.

"It's my fault," Harvey said. "I was…somewhere else, and Harold had to pitch for me. His aim could use some work."

"Well, I'm sure it's not the last sport related loss of frozen vegetables we'll be having," Grammy said. "Where's Mr. Evans?" 

Mike sank into a chair and grumpily pushed the frozen peas against his head. "He's not allowed in."

"I had better go call his father to pick him up, then." She tried to give Mike a look of sympathy but he suspected she was elated. She had never much liked Trevor, though she did her best to hide it. She left to the other room where they had a telephone. 

"Harvey?" Mike asked, shifting the frozen peas to his other hand. "Do you…"

"What?" Harvey asked, distracted. He seemed lost in thought and he frowned down at Mike now. 

Mike had been about to ask something dumb, like, 'Do you think we'll still be friends when school starts?' Or maybe 'Do you think the others will want to beat me up and call me names when school starts?' But he changed his mind. He had to have faith that his friends were really his friends. 

Harvey looked like he was still twisted up inside about what they had seen at his house, and Mike wished he could help. He wished he knew the right thing to say, the proper course of action for Harvey to take. Instead, he asked, "Do you want me to go with you?"

Harvey stared at him for a long moment and then he reached out and took Mike's hand off the makeshift ice pack to hold it for him. It felt like a much more intimate gesture suddenly and Mike blushed. "I think I have to do this one alone."

"Oh. Okay," Mike said, upset that he couldn't help and afraid that Harvey would disappear again. 

"I don't want to know why," Harvey said, as he had in the library earlier. "But I think I need to." 

Mike put his hand on Harvey's wrist and bit his lip. He had realized something after his fight with Trevor and he desperately needed Harvey to know it. "It doesn't mean things can't get better." He could see from Harvey's frown that he didn't say it right. "When you lose something."

Harvey seemed to understand, because his expression softened. He put his free hand on Mike's, where it was wrapped around his wrist. "I'll see you at the Sandlot." He put Mike’s hand back on the peas and started to head for the door. 

"Tomorrow?" Mike asked, worried that Harvey wouldn't come back. That he would leave them. Leave him.

The older boy paused in the doorway of the kitchen and gave him his usual sharp grin. "Tomorrow. Don't be late."

…..

Mike paced anxiously at the third base line as he waited for everyone to arrive. He was early, which was unusual for him, but even more unusual was that he was alone. He had promised Harvey to meet him at the Sandlot, but he had this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wouldn't be there. 

"You're never here this early," Jessica said as she walked up and set down a couple bats and her glove. She had a thermos in her hand and took a sip from it before passing it over to Mike. "It's hot chocolate."

Mike gave her a thin smile and took a sip of the deliciously rich cocoa. "Thanks." The tall first baseman still scared him, though he had tried not to let her know that. "Yeah, I, uh, I was hoping to get some extra practice in."

Jessica raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything about his obvious lie. She was definitely smarter than the average kid her age. "Why don't you try some infield practice. You're quick enough for it." She picked up the bat and put her glove on before adjusting her hat.

"Oh, uh, do you think it's okay, though? I don't want to upset Esther or Katrina. Or Stu." Mike could hear Trevor's warning that these kids weren't really his friends tumbling around inside his head.

Jessica grinned and gave a small almost musical little laugh. "Maybe they will, maybe they won't. But change isn't always a bad thing, Mike."

"Yeah, but I just don't want to make anyone--"

"Just catch the ball, Mike," Jessica said, her voice getting more serious, though her eyes said she was still friendly.

Mike snapped his mouth shut and headed out to the infield over by the shortstop position. Jessica hit a grounder to him and he collected it and threw it back. After the first few, he found himself getting lost in the rhythm of the practice, enjoying it when Jessica hit more challenging grounders to either side, or ones that bounced awkwardly at him. He found his mind going clear as he dove for one near second base and managed to catch it. 

"Why are we letting Esther take up space in here when we could have Mike in the infield?" Louis's voice startled Mike out of his rhythm and he realized the other kids had mostly shown up by now. "Ow!" Louis rubbed at his arm where Esther must have smacked him. 

"Hey, you can't steal him! Mike's our guy," Jimmy said. 

"Yeah, Mike's one of us," Harold said, glaring at Louis. Mike still wasn't sure if those two were actually friends or not. 

"Technically, Mike's one of me," Stu said as he came up to join the discussion, adjusting his suspenders. He winked at Mike. "Ain't that right, Brooklyn?"

"What are we arguing about?" Katrina asked as she stood next to Mike and, to his surprise, gave him a rare smile. If there was anything Mike had learned about Katrina, it was that she rarely showed any of her emotions. Or maybe she just hadn't shown them around Mike…

"What's to argue?" Louis said, crossing his arms and loudly smacking his bubblegum as he spoke. "Mike is better than Esther."

"You are such a jerk!" Esther glared.

"Is he?" Katrina asked neutrally. 

"Are you taking his side?"

"Guys, I'm really okay just staying in the outfield," Mike said, but no one seemed to notice. They were all too busy arguing with each other now. Even Jessica had gotten into the mix. 

Mike watched them from the sidelines, left out as usual. Just like Trevor had predicted, he thought. 

"What the heck is going on?" 

The familiar voice of Harvey made everyone startle and they fell silent. Mike was so happy to see Harvey that he almost forgot he was upset about being left out. But there was a tension in the older boy that made him worried for him. 

"It seems Mike might be better suited to playing infield than out. There's some debate," Jessica's eyes flicked over to Louis and Harold and back, "about whether he should change positions."

Harvey looked tired and baffled, weary in the way only grown ups looked. "What does Mike want to do?"

Everyone turned to look at Mike, waiting for his answer. 

"I'm really okay anywhere," Mike said. "I just want to be able to play with you guys." Mike tried not to wince at how desperate that sounded. Trevor had warned him of this, that they weren't really interested in Mike, just in how useful he was. So Mike braced himself for the devastating letdown he expected. 

"If you want to try infield sometime, we can swap around. Might make the game more interesting, anyway," Katrina offered.

"And we can put Harold in as pitcher," Jessica grinned. "Harvey can cover for him. Penance for being late."

"What's my penance for?" Harold whined.

"Isn't being you enough?" Louis asked. "Ow!" Esther had punched him again. 

Mike stood staring at them in disbelief. They didn't seem to care where Mike played, just that he did. "You guys are sure? I don't want to mess up the way things are or anything."

Harvey slung an arm around Mike. "You're one of us, Mike. You'd only mess it up by leaving."

Jessica nodded and handed Mike her bat. "Don't go easy on Harold. You owe him for that," she pointed to Mike's obvious bruise on his head. 

With mild disbelief, Mike took the bat and then stared at Harvey. He had so many questions for him. What happened? Are you okay? What's going to happen now? But he couldn't ask any of them right now with everyone else waiting on them. "You're late," he said instead. I was worried about you. 

Harvey squeezed his shoulders for a moment before removing his arm from around him. "I'll make it up to you." 

Mike watched him trot past the pitcher's mound and into left field where he said something to a frantic looking Harold. The blond boy slowly made his way to Harvey's usual position while Harvey grinned and gave Mike a thumbs up. 

As Harold threw his first warmup pitches, Mike realized that Trevor had really been wrong this time. These were his friends. It had taken time for some of them to open up to him, but they had accepted him as one of the team. For the first time since Mike lost his parents, he thought he knew what it felt like to have a family.

…..

“She said she’s lonely.” Harvey’s face was carefully blank as they walked down the street. They hadn’t headed home after practice at the Sandlot, but they hadn’t exactly picked an alternative destination, either. 

“Well, your dad is gone a lot, right?” Mike knew that Harvey’s dad was constantly late for dinner if he was there at all, and if he did come home at night it was well past the hour when everyone would be sleeping. 

“You’re defending her?” Harvey asked, anger showing in his features before he wrestled it back into its blank state. 

“What? No! Harvey, I just…” Mike worried he had irreparably hurt his friend. He had just been thinking that he could understand why she was lonely. 

Harvey let out a small sigh, forcing down his emotions. “I know. Sorry, Mike.” He walked a little closer and their shoulders bumped. It felt like a gesture of reassurance. 

Swallowing down his own anxieties, Mike worked up his courage and asked, “So what’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know. That’s up to her.” Harvey’s face flashed that angry, hurt look again. “I told her she can’t do it again.”

Mike tried to imagine Harvey, who should have been a carefree kid, confronting his mother. He could picture Lily Specter crying as she explained how lonely she was and then agreeing, promising she wouldn’t ever break Harvey’s trust again. 

“But it doesn’t really solve anything, does it?” Harvey slowed and then stopped. He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet. It was so odd to see him like that, Mike thought. He always thought of Harvey as confident and in control. He was the kind of kid who always had everything figured out. 

“Harvey,” Mike said softly, wishing he knew how to help him. He hated feeling so helpless. 

“They’re both unhappy. They just don’t know it. It’s like that book you lent me. Everything is the way it should be on the surface, but underneath it all, they’re miserable. Only, it’s not from the war. It’s just who they are.”

Mike startled at the mention of the book. The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit . He had completely forgotten about Harvey borrowing it. He had never expected that he would actually read the thing!

“You read it,” Mike said, staring at Harvey in awe and affection. He had never had anyone else genuinely show interest in any of the “geeky” things he liked. 

Harvey shrugged and started walking again, keeping just slightly ahead of Mike now. It was like he was avoiding looking at him. “It was interesting.” 

They walked in silence for a few more minutes and Mike found himself smiling, despite the dark topic weighing on them. 

“It doesn’t mean it can’t get better,” Harvey mumbled softly and Mike almost didn’t hear it. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Harvey said. “Let’s get some ice cream or something. It’s boiling out here.”

As they finished up their ice creams, they finally headed towards their block. For a while, Mike had managed to forget about the worry that had been building inside of him for Harvey and his family, but now it threatened to overwhelm him. If something happened to Harvey’s family, what would happen to Harvey? Would he move away? Would they even still be friends?

“I can hear you thinking,” Harvey said and rolled his eyes. 

“I’m just worried,” Mike said, feeling bold enough to admit it. “I just lost one of my oldest friends, and it was okay, because I had you, but now--”

“Mike.” Harvey’s voice cut into Mike’s and he swallowed nervously as Harvey turned to face him. “I’m not going to leave you.”

Any attempt Mike had made at holding back his emotions failed and he started to cry. He had lost his parents, lost his home, lost Trevor, but Harvey… Harvey would stay. He wouldn’t leave him. The relief he felt was only ruined by the sudden flush of horror and embarrassment at crying in front of Harvey over simple words of assurance. “Oh God. I’m such a baby.”

Harvey smirked and gave a soft laugh. “Yeah. Crying, really?” But he pulled Mike into a hug. “Still not going anywhere.”

Mike laughed and gently pushed Harvey away when he had taken a few recovering breaths. He wiped at his eyes and smiled at the older boy. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Usual spot.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I promise.”

….

The sun was setting by the time Mike walked up to his house, and he was surprised to see a familiar face waiting for him. He felt the sensation of Deja Vu wash over him and he flushed with anger and anxiety as he walked up to Trevor. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, Mikey. I leave tomorrow. You really want to kick me out again?” Trevor’s eyes looked slightly red and Mike wondered if he had been crying. That brought up the memory of crying in front of Harvey and he blushed slightly in residual embarrassment. 

“I have nothing to say to you.” Mike tried to push past him, but Trevor was taller and stronger than him and he didn’t budge. 

“You left me!” Trevor blurted out. He looked almost wild. 

“What?” Mike asked, shocked, as the words echoed Harvey’s promise to him. 

“Your parents died, and I was there for you. And then you just… left.”

“I didn’t choose to leave, Trevor. Grammy--”

“I know.” Trevor looked down, his fist clenched. “But you didn’t call me or anything. I waited. I was worried about you, Mike. I always looked out for you, but I wouldn’t be around and I thought you were on your own, getting… I don’t know, getting beat up every day, or something. And then my dad had this trip and I had to beg him to let me go with and I get here and it’s like you forgot about me completely.”

Mike winced as he realized that Trevor, as horrible as he had been when he had arrived, was just as scared about losing his best friend as Mike was. “What you said to me wasn’t okay.”

“I know,” Trevor repeated, looking at Mike finally. “But you replaced me, Mike.”

“Trevor, you’re not replaceable.” Mike huffed out a small fond laugh, though he was still angry. “But I had to make new friends here.” In his own mind, Trevor hadn’t been worrying about him at all, but he obviously had been wrong. Trevor had apparently been expecting Mike to be getting beat up every day. And then Trevor would show up and step back into his role as Mike’s hero and defender. But instead he saw Mike doing just fine. It hurt that Trevor had wanted Mike to be in trouble, but he also understood what Trevor had felt. It didn’t make what he had said okay, but Mike had had enough of losing people he cared about. “Trev, you’re still my best friend. And I promise I haven’t replaced you. We just have to figure out how we’re going to hang out when we’re on opposite sides of the country.”

“So… We’re okay?”. 

Mike rolled his eyes. “Yes, obviously.”

Trevor grinned and gave Mike a mock punch to his shoulder. “I knew you would. You’re too good a person, Mikey. You shouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“I can take it back.”

“No! No, that’s okay. You can make an exception for me.” Trevor wrapped an arm around Mike’s shoulders. “I am sorry, though, Mike. Really.”

Mike nodded and gave a punch back to Trevor, prompting him to return another and they shared their secret handshake. “So, are you staying for dinner?”

Trevor looked at the house and then shook his head. “I don’t think your Grammy would be happy with that. Besides, my dad sort of expected me to be back by now.”

Mike chewed his lip for a moment. “Maybe I can have dinner with you and your dad?”

“Really? You’d want to?” Trevor asked, surprised.

“It’s your last night here, Trev. I’m not missing it.”

…..

EPILOGUE

Harvey waited anxiously on the porch for the door to open. He shifted his weight to his other foot as he waited, awkwardly holding a large casserole dish in his hands. “Maybe you should ring it again.”

“Maybe we can sing carols and deliver presents down chimneys,” Donna sniped back, staring straight ahead patiently. “It’s been ten seconds, Harvey. Give her a minute.”

Harvey swallowed back his reply and wished he had his hands free to adjust his coat or straighten his tie or do anything other than juggle a casserole. “What even is this?”

“Green bean casserole. You disparage it, you die.”

“Why do I pay you, again?”

“Because you’d be lost without me,” she smiled. 

The door opened, letting out the pleasant aroma of roasting turkey and sweet potatoes along with a faint hint of peppermint. A heavily ornamented pine tree sat in the living room and three stockings hung from the fireplace. Outside it was a warm winter night, but inside it felt just as festive as if there had been frost on the windows. 

“Hello, it’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Ross,” Donna said. “I’m Donna.” 

“Oh, call me Edith, please. Welcome. Come in, come in.” The aging grandmother stood to the side to let them by and gave Harvey a kiss on his cheek as he stepped in. “So good to see you, Harvey.”

“Hi Grammy,” he greeted and held out the casserole. “We brought a green bean casserole.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have! We have so much food!” But she happily took the dish and set it in what appeared to be a reserved place on the table for just such a thing. The place was set for six, to Harvey’s surprise, and he wondered who else might be joining them. 

“‘Grammy?’” Donna asked as they helped themselves to refreshments in the kitchen. 

Harvey kept silent, refusing to give away more information to his already much too well-informed secretary. 

“Grammy, who else is coming?”

“Oh! Yes, well, about that,” she started, looking a bit uncomfortable. But before she could answer, the doorbell rang and Harvey’s heart took on a blistering pace in anticipation. How long had it been now? Too long. Much too long. He ignored the way Donna studied him over her hot cider. He tried to resist the urge to rush to the front door, but found himself heading that way anyway. His disappointment was immeasurable when the expected guest turned out to be familiar in the worst kind of way. Harvey turned on his heel and stomped back into the kitchen, giving Donna a look that said she would regret asking. 

“Hi Mrs. Ross. It’s so nice to see you again. Thanks for having us. And this is my girlfriend, Jenny.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” a soft feminine voice said from the foyer. 

Harvey pulled the brandy stopper off with an audible pop and dosed his cider with a generous helping.

“Oof, I take it you don’t get along with our mystery guests?” Donna said, pouring a little more of the brandy into her own cup. 

Harvey made sure he always got along with Trevor. When Mike was around. He could be civil. 

“Oh, hi,” the soft voice greeted and Harvey turned to see its owner was a very beautiful blonde woman who had clearly embraced the whole counterculture aesthetic and was determined to never let go. “I’m Jenny.” Of course Trevor would bring some hippie drug-user as his date.

“I’m Donna. This is Harvey,” the redhead greeted politely. “I love your outfit.” Harvey almost snorted, which earned him a subtle look of warning from his secretary. 

“Oh, thanks. It’s… It’s not really… This is embarrassing. I don’t really wear this stuff usually. But I got this role in a production and we were supposed to dress like this. I didn’t have time to change. Trevor said it wouldn’t be a problem.” She looked mildly panicked and Harvey found himself reluctantly changing his mind about this girl. Although, she was here with Trevor, so he wasn’t ready to be won over yet. 

“Ooh, what studio?” Donna asked, interestedly. 

“Oh, are you an actress too?” Jenny grinned and stepped closer to grab herself a drink and Harvey instantly tuned out their conversation. He decided to wander back to the dining area and found Grammy and Trevor actually laughing together. Had he walked into an alternate dimension? Maybe he should have skipped the cider and just brought the brandy.

“Oh that’s so good to hear, Trevor!” Grammy said and smiled up at Harvey. “Harvey, how is your work going?”

Harvey was doing quite well, actually. He was the only junior prosecutor with his own secretary - most of the others had to share or use the temps. And he was quickly building a reputation for himself. He suspected part of his upward trend had to do with being so lucky as to have found Donna, or as she put it, being found by Donna. “It’s alright,” he said. 

“Oh, don’t be so modest. It’s not like you,” Grammy said, a twinkle in her eyes. “And what about your parents? I spoke with your mother the other day and she said Bobby was helping Marcus open his own restaurant!”

Harvey shifted uncomfortably. He always felt awkward talking about anything private in front of Trevor. He had thought Grammy didn’t like the man, but here she was being friendly to him. 

“Wow, slammin’, Harvey! Me and Jenny will definitely eat there. I mean, if we can afford it,” Trevor laughed. “And Jenny is a huge fan of your dad’s music, by the way. She’s been to a few of his shows.”

“What are you doing here?” Harvey asked sharply, letting his irritation and anxiety get the better of him. 

“Harvey!” Grammy scolded. 

But Trevor just smiled at him. “Well, Jenny got an agent and they said she’s really talented and we should move to California for her career. And I’m getting really into computers. You know there’s a huge industry here for that--”

“You’re moving here?” Harvey asked, growing more annoyed. 

“Yeah, man.” Trevor sipped at the water in front of him. Harvey had heard from Mike that he apparently stopped drinking a couple years ago. Mike always defended Trevor, even when it seemed like the man had finally gone too far. “I get it. But I’m working on it. And, it helps to have family close. You know? Support network and all that.”

Harvey stared at him and tried to decide what to do with his irritation at Trevor. He had promised himself he would be civil, and Trevor was clearly trying to not be his usual disaster of a person.

“Everything okay in here?” Jenny asked, clearly worried and trying to hide it. Harvey hoped she was a better actress on stage. 

“Yeah, baby,” Trevor smiled and held out a hand to her. She went and sat beside him, then gave him a kiss. “Harvey’s just being responsible and looking out for everyone.”

What? Harvey blinked in surprise. Trevor… Trevor seemed different this time. 

The front door opened and closed. “Hey, I’m home! Oh my God, it smells amazing in here!” 

Any irritation or anger Harvey still felt evaporated at the sound of Mike’s voice. It had been so long since he had heard him. He felt a grin form on his face at the typical introduction Mike made and relaxed in his seat as he saw the man step into the dining room. He hadn’t seen him since well before he had signed for his current team. And with all the traveling they did and how busy Harvey’s case load was, they had missed each other every time Mike was actually in town. 

Mike leaned down to give Grammy a kiss and a hug and then beamed at everyone. “Hey, everyone. Merry Christmas.” He began to make the rounds, starting with Trevor and Jenny, and Harvey took the opportunity to study him. He still had the same dirty blond hair, the sharply intelligent blue eyes, but he was more muscled now, if still a bit on the thin side. But Harvey couldn’t help but wonder - and worry - what might have changed about the man. He was becoming famous, after all. Their other friends from the Sandlot had all moved on with their lives. As much as Harvey was reluctant to admit it, he was afraid Mike would do the same and leave him behind. 

“How long are you in town?” Grammy asked, squeezing his hand before Mike could make it around the table to Harvey and Donna. 

“We have to be back end of February,” Mike said. “Practice. But, I have some news to share with you.”

Harvey frowned at him. He still hadn’t gotten to greet Mike, and now Mike was going ahead and just sharing news without even an acknowledgement of him?

“Well, don’t keep an old woman waiting!”

Mike laughed. “After dinner. First I want to focus on everyone else.” After making some quick small talk, he got up and headed into the kitchen to get a drink. 

Donna got up as well and too loudly declared she needed a refill. 

Harvey just managed to hold back from rolling his eyes, but also followed them into the kitchen. 

“You can make it out to ‘Donna’,” the redhead was saying, as Mike carefully signed a hat that she must have smuggled in. 

“Harvey!” Mike grinned. “You didn’t tell me you worked with a local deity.”

“I don’t appreciate my realm of power being restricted to local bounds, Mike. But thank you,” she grinned. 

Mike laughed and handed back the hat. Donna sauntered out of the kitchen and gave Harvey a coy wink as she left. Mike took a sip of the cider and sighed. “I missed Grammy’s cider.”

“Mike--”

“I’m sorry about Trevor. But he needed a place to go for Christmas and he’s family, too, Harvey. And he’s really changed a lot. He was really worried about his being here upsetting you and I told him it’d be okay, so please try and be nice to him.”

Whatever anxieties he had had about Mike’s arrival, he forgot them all in that moment. Mike was still Mike. The same goofy kid he had met years ago just down the street. “Are you finished?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

Harvey stepped closer and put a hand on Mike’s arm. “I missed you.”

Mike blushed a beautiful shade of pink. “I missed you too.” 

“Stay with me while you’re in town.” Harvey didn’t want him to disappear again. He didn’t want their jobs getting in the way. Not for one second more. 

Mike’s eyes widened, sending Harvey’s heart into a frantic rhythm. Then he put down his cup of cider and grinned. “Fuck it. I’m sharing the news now.” He pulled a familiar ragged baseball cap from his back pocket and handed it to Harvey. “Here. You’ll need a hat to cheer me on at my new team.”

Harvey frowned and took the hat, recognizing it instantly. Mike’s dad’s hat. The Dodgers. “You’re…”

“Yeah. Signed with them and everything. I wanted to call you, but I was waiting for the paperwork to go through. I wanted to be sure.” Mike stared at him with watery eyes and when Harvey didn’t immediately respond, he said, “Well? What do you think?”

Harvey grinned and he pulled the old worn cap onto his head. “I think if you make your grandmother wait to hear this news, she really will disown you.”

Mike laughed. “Nah, she loves me.”

“Alright,” Harvey chuckled back. “I guess I can share.”