by Bri Izzo
In the next moment, Buzz surprises all of us, even me. As she glides back into the wake and out onto the other side, her board lifts off the water, and she lets go of the bar with one hand to grab the board for a split second before she lands perfectly back on the water.
“Whoa!” Baylee screams when she sees her sister perform a trick she can barely do with her character on a video game.
My dad mistakenly takes this squealing as Buzz falling, so he slows down. She reels herself into the boat to let someone else have a chance on the water, but I can see her trying to hide her beaming pride. She’s been wanting to learn tricks on the water for a while, and her dare-deviled self just broke the ice.
3 Bianca Ferrari
Once the summer ends and three weeks into their freshman year of high school, the boys have homecoming, and I feel like Ross Gellar as I sit in the background watching them take pictures with their dates. I may or may not be making bunny ears and sticking my tongue out behind the line of moms trying to take pictures, but I have to do something to get the boys to look like they care, even if it is at my expense. The whole group consists of Rex, Skyler, and Benny and a few of the neighbor boys Evan Smith and Tommy Buschman. Each of the boys have a date, but all I can focus on is Skyler’s. She’s blue eyed and fake blonde with way too much makeup on and wearing way too high of heels. Standing next to Skyler, she does need some kind of lift since he hit his growth spurt over the summer, but she can barely stand, let alone walk, in them. He knows this girl from his private school he went to for elementary and middle school, but I can’t say that I’ve ever met her. None of us ever bring random friends to the cabin, and when we’re at home we’re pretty much always together, plus or minus a few people depending on what we’re doing. To be honest, I’m a little jealous of his hand awkwardly shaking as he grazes her hip, but I don’t think he’s going to marry this girl so I won’t let that feeling destroy me.
The moms agree they have enough pictures of the boys and their dates and then insist on a sibling photoshoot. I was unaware that this would be happening, even though I should have assumed my mom would make this request. I’m in a shoeless in a Cubs t-shirt and a Rockette’s hat as we stand outside on the deck. At first I think we’re going to do a boring find-your-window type of picture, but all of a sudden Rex grabs my shoulders as Skyler lifts my legs so I’m completely horizontal. Skyler is trying to tickle me, and I’m trying equally as hard to calm the goosebumps creeping throughout my entire body so he won’t notice. He totally does once they reach my legs. To make things more awkward, he winks at me in between a few of the snapshots, which gives the moms an opportunity for candid photos. Of him flirting with me. In front of our moms, siblings, and his date. I swear his whole goal in life is to kill me.
As they are all about to pile into our moms’ SUVs and vans so they can drive them to school for the dance, Benny stops me in the hallway.
“You okay?” he asks me. Why does he care? Oh, yeah… my brother is the evil twin, not Benny. During their Rocket baseball playing days, Rex and Benny were mistaken for twins all the time; even I agree with the majority that I can see it. The three of us have very similar eyes and hair color, and the two of them have nearly identical noses and jaw structures. Because of that, Benny is nothing more than a brotherly figure to me. It’s weird because he and Tiffany look like they are two different nationalities, him Italian and her German, so he seems more like my brother than hers.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I tell him, trying to avert my eyes from his handsome composure. For a moment he doesn’t look like the little third baseman that can pass as my brother’s twin anymore. The tie and dress pants temporarily give him a whole new appearance. In normal clothes they still look like little kids.
“Cuz you were glaring at Skyler’s date in between mocking our moms during pictures,” he chuckles, tapping the brim of my hat.
“Who, Barbie? My bad. I thought she dressed like that so people would play with her like a doll,” I joke, trying to hide my evil smile. I just insulted Barbie.
“Not everyone can be naturally good looking like us,” Benny implies that he agrees with me. Then he wraps one arm around my neck, takes my hat off, and messes up my hair with his free hand like true brotherly love, even though we aren’t really siblings.
“Thanks, bud,” I groan, pushing him away and trying to comb through my hair with my fingers. At least there’s no more pictures for me tonight.
“You still look better than her,” he compliments me with a stern face, generously offering my hat back to me. Benny is very much like another older brother to me. He constantly jokes with me about having a crush on Skyler. Once this past summer he announced in front of a whole group of their teammates, siblings, parents, and Skyler himself that Sky was coming over to my house before the game the next day so I better get my binoculars ready. I still want to kill him for exposing me like that.
One fall night after my mom picks me up from my softball team’s open gym, I determine that I need to practice pitching faster and more accurately if I want to make the Junior Varsity team as a freshman next year, which is my own personal goal. With Skyler’s expertise in catching, he’s the first one I think of to talk to about making improvements.
“Hey, are you busy?” I call him when I reach my bedroom so no one can hear me.
“No, why?” Skyler asks coldly.
“Meet me at the park in five minutes,” I blurt out and hang up before he can say no or ask me more questions.
As requested of him, Skyler meets me at the neighborhood park down the street from our houses. I hand him the softball catcher’s mitt that my dad bought for when I first started pitching and then start counting out the correct distance from the rubber home plate and pitching plate I brought with me.
“You didn’t want to play catch with your dad or brother?” Skyler wonders, walking over to stand behind home plate. After I measure out the distance, we start casually throwing the softball back and forth to warm up our arms.
“No. I need you to help me pitch,” I tell him. “Rex is studying anyways.”
“So typical. What do you need help with? You’re one of the best pitchers I’ve ever seen,” he compliments me with a harsh look like this will be wasting his time.
“I want to make JV as a freshman, so I need to start throwing better,” I explain. He’s the first person that I actually told that this was my goal, and I hope he won’t take it lightly.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t play softball, sweetheart,” he reminds me as if I don’t already know.
“I know,” I reply, throwing the ball extra hard at his chest. “But you’re a catcher. And I know you critique every pitch I’ve ever thrown. You might as well put those criticisms to good use.”
“You warm enough?” he asks, his brown eyes somehow shimmering in the moonlight.
He’s talking about your arm, I remind myself when my immediate thought is more on the romantic side.
“Yeah,” I answer, taking my spot on the pitching plate as he squats behind home plate.
“If you fucking hit me in the balls… well, just don’t even think about it,” he half threatens, and I realize I probably should’ve warned him to bring a cup so I won’t hurt him.
“Really, what would you do?” I tease, tossing the ball in my bare hand, egging him on.
“Find a dog and make it bite you,” he finishes, dropping one of his knees to protect himself.
“That’s the best you can do?” I joke even though I know it’s a good threat. Ever since that Halloween night where I was chased and he got bit, I’ve been terrified of bunnies and he knows it. They’re one of the few things that make me strike fear. I can’t even say their real name, even in my head.
“Just throw,” Skyler demands. This causes me to jumble the ball and throw it high and outside in what would be the batter’s box. “My balls are down here,” he states after he catches the ball and drops his gloved hand in front of him.
�
�I wasn’t aiming for your balls,” I reply, trying not to look at him down there.
“Were you aiming for two feet above me?” he antagonizes me.
“No,” I admit. “I told you I need help, Sky.”
“Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do,” he begins as he takes off his hoodie followed by his t-shirt underneath. Oh, yeah, because your abs aren’t going to distract me at all. But then he puts his hoodie back on his bare chest and walks over to me with his dark t-shirt in hand. “I’m going to blindfold you, and you’re going to learn how to control your pitches to get them exactly where you want them without aiming.”
“Sky, this is ridiculous,” I retort as he walks up behind me and ties the shirt into a knot around my head.
“Do you want my help or not?” he snaps.
“Promise you won’t leave me out here alone. Stray bunnies come out at night,” I command, the fear of being left alone in the park with a creepy woods and the possibility of a wild animal attacking me completely overcoming me. I can see him doing it.
“I won’t. But even if I did, you would be fine. You’re tougher than almost every guy I know,” he declares. His voice gradually distances from me but only far enough so that I know he’s taken his place back behind home plate. “Throw me a pitch.”
“I can’t even see!” I exclaim, slamming the ball into my glove to regrip.
“Come on. Just throw one,” he insists. I don’t want to hurt him or disrespect him, so I take my stance, feeling that my feet are exactly perpendicular to the pitching plate, and bring my arm around to release the ball once it gets past my thigh. Skyler catches the ball and crunches his feet in the hard grass as he walks it over to me.
“What was it?” I wonder, wanting to know what the pitch looked like.
“Ball high,” he reports as he sets the ball in my bare hand. Just as I think he’s going to release and resume his catching position, he curls my hand so half of the ball is covered by his hand and half by mine. “But it was a good miss considering you were trying not to hit me in the balls.” I can hear the smile in his voice but try to keep mine contained as he walks away from me. “Now, listen to me; focus… get your grip on the ball… now, what do you see?”
Puzzled, I tell him, “Nothing. Black everywhere.”
“Buzz, listen to me,” he tries again. “Think about pitching in a big game in front of a big crowd. What do you see?”
Taking a deep breath, I actually close my eyes underneath his shirt tied around my eyes. “Your glove,” I answered.
“Good,” he says firmly. “Now, throw.” All I think about is him catching a perfect strike like I have seen him do thousands of times during his own games as I sit behind the backstop. I control my arm as it makes a large circle and release it once my hand barely passed my leg.
A moment after I hear him catch the ball, I ask again, “What was it?”
“A fucking strike,” Skyler announces. “Right down the middle.”
“Shut up; you’re lying,” I whine. I don’t want to be babied. I went to him because I think he will take me seriously and actually help me.
“I’m not lying, B. It was a perfect fastball,” he promises. “Now this time put a little curve on it. Think about hitting a corner.” Once again, he places the ball in my hand and walks back to his ready position. “Focus… and throw.” I do as I am told; first I focus on the image of his glove, then the idea of it being the bottom of the seventh in a close game and Skyler sitting behind the backstop watching me.
“This is my heater,” I joke as I quote DeNunez from Sandlot.
And I throw it. When the ball hits his glove it sounds like a gunshot just went off, which I know isn’t probable in our ritzy neighborhood. I throw off my blindfold just in case Skyler is on the ground bleeding. “Holy shit!” he says with laughter and amazement in his scratchy, deep voice.
As I examine his glove from afar, I notice the ball is neatly tucked inside of it and on the ground just in front of his feet. “What?” I wonder cautiously.
“I feel bad for your catcher. Tell her to wear a batting glove underneath her catcher’s mitt when she catches for you,” he teases. When my facial falls to equal what I think is his sarcasm, he excitedly shouts, “Put the blindfold back on and do it again.”
“Why?” I groan as everything goes pitch black again after he tightens his shirt around my head once more.
“Because. I want you to do this a few times so it’s ingrained in your brain and muscle memory,” he coaches me.
“Sky, why did you scream like that?” I beg to know if I am really that God forsaken awful or if I amaze him. I just want to hear him say something real.
“Throw it again first, then I’ll tell you,” he bargains.
“Fine,” I agree. Feet set. Catcher’s glove. seventh inning. Sky sitting behind the backstop.
Then I hear the same gunshot sound as the ball hits his glove again. “Damn, girl,” Skyler exclaims. I assume he is bringing the ball back to me to throw again, but instead he lifts his shirt from around my head and stands directly above me. I can feel and partially see his warm breath clouding as he pierces me with his passionate eyes. Breathe, Bianca. “That… was fucking incredible,” he convinces me.
“It was?” I reply shakily, trying not to break eye contact with him. This is the closest we have been since the night we got caught at the high dive at the lake, and I don’t want to move. He just helped me accomplish something in a half hour that would’ve taken me weeks or months with multiple coaches yelling orders at me. All he had me do was think. Or not think. Just focus. He never even specified what needs to be in my focus. I suppose it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s something.
“It was,” Skyler confirms, still not moving from being centimeters away from me. “But you gotta practice doing this at least once a week.”
“Blindfolded?” I want to know. No one, not even my dad, will see that as rational. He will never let me do an exercise like that where I can’t see and he has a chance of getting hurt.
“Yes. And I can tell by the look on your face that you think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I’ll do this with you if you want, but if that’s what you choose, we have to keep it a secret,” he explains.
“Why?” I question him.
“Because I don’t want anyone telling you to stop doing it,” he tells me. “Deal?”
I reach out, and we shake hands as I reply, “You realize your family is going to lose the Battle of the Kids for sure now, right? Rex’s brains and both of our athletic abilities.”
“Only you guys act like that’s a real thing,” Skyler snarks at me.
As the year goes on, Skyler and Rex attend all the high school football games, dances, and baseball team socials. I still meet with Skyler to practice our unique pitching technique, even in the winter; we just move it from the park to the local YMCA. Rex started dating the girl who went to homecoming with him, Leah Treadway, and she’s constantly trying to set Skyler up with any of her friends so they can double-date when Rex frees himself from working on projects or tutoring people at school. None of them have their licenses yet, but we all live close enough to each other that everyone just walks wherever they want to go. Our little downtown is even close enough.
Whenever I know ahead of time that a new foursome will be hanging out at our house, I always either hide upstairs or beeline for the park, downtown, or Tiffany’s house. The only reason I’m jealous is because I feel like I’m losing my best friend and brother to a set of high school girls, which is actually what is happening. It used to be the three of us, and now it’s the four of them.
4 Skyler Swanson
By the spring formal I’m already fucking sick of the girls Leah and Alex keep bringing around for me. They’re all stupid and fake. While they’re excited to attend the formal, I am not. I don’t even want to go at all, and I will do my best to get out of it completely.
“You’re bailing on us?” Benny asks one night when we’re at his house watc
hing a movie.
“It’s a fucking dance. Wanting to not go is not bailing. Are you a fucking girl?” I yell as I stare at the TV screen instead of the two sets of eyes glaring at me.
“What are you going to do instead?” he wonders, probably because he partially wants to join me in my master plan of not pleasing girls by attending stupid fucking dances.
“I don’t know yet, but anything sounds better than going to another dance,” I snicker.
Leah doesn’t like this idea when Alex tells her, so she introduces me to one of her friends from another school across town. A group of us are hanging out at the girl’s house the night before the dance, about to go in her hot tub in her backyard, when the beaming brunette walks outside in a black and green bikini. All of us guys (except for Alex who somehow has an on and off switch, at least when he’s around Leah) turn all of our attention on her as she smooths her silky caramel hair back into a ponytail while looking at her reflection in the glass door. As half of her ass cheeks show from her skimpy bottoms, I notice her perfectly even tan that must be a result of spring break and her body that looks like years in the making. She has to be a athlete wherever she goes to school. I didn’t realize I’m apparently attracted to a certain type of girl until today. Her and Buzz both fit into my Fuck Me Now Club.
