Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (17 page)

            Since her coaches were behind her to see if she was
throwing strikes or balls, she hasn
’
t seen their facial
expressions when she was throwing heat. “They think what I think: you
’
re amazing,
” I tell her and then let out a
small laugh. “
But I don’
t think you
’
ll
be pitching for batting practice.”

             “What? Why not? I can slow it down,” she persists.
She wants to do it all
.

             “That
’
s true,” I realize.
God
she
’
s talented. When I see her passionate eyes dart back
towards Chase, I continue, “Can you still focus? They want to see a few more.”

             “Yeah,” she snaps her eyes back on me. It
’
s the first time in months she
’
s looked me
in the eye. I
’
m not sure
I
can focus anymore now.

             “
You sure?
”
I
question her. I
’
m not doubting her as much as I
’
m confident in Chase
’
s ability to
hypnotize women.

             “Yeah. Us against them, who wins?” she teases with
the smallest of grins.

             “Us, every time,” I quote her, lightly shoving the
ball into her glove before walking back to home plate. The coaches are still
murmuring as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. To everyone
’
s surprise (except mine), Buzz never opens them before throwing
the ball. She just throws it as if she can do it in her sleep. And she clearly
fucking can. It
’
s another perfect curveball. The coaches
fall silent as they send questioning glares to each other and back at Buzz. The
girl knows how to impress.

            One of the varsity girls says, “Were her eyes closed?”
Her alarming tone makes everyone silent, and her voice echoes in the gym to
bring more attention to Buzz.

             “Bianca!” one of the seniors, Laurie, calls from the
sideline. Her loud voice and fiery red hair demand people
’
s
attention in the gym. Buzz turns her head to acknowledge her, opening her eyes
for the first time since she threw the last pitch. “Do it again.”

            I throw the ball back and let her breathe and focus.
That
’
s our code word: “focus.” When I say that she
immediately remembers our blindfolding drill. A moment later her eyelids fall
and, shortly after, a heated fastball shoots into my glove. Not only is she
making herself look like an easy decision to be put on varsity as a freshman,
but she
’
s making me look good as a coach.

             “Skyler,” the head varsity softball coach, Coach
Mike McCallum, calls my name and waves his finger for me to come over. In this
town filled with baseball and softball, the coaches pretty much know everyone,
both guys and girls, especially us Swansons and Ferraris whose dads created the
youth select team programs. With the coaches all huddled around me, he asks, “I
assume you
’
ve been working on this with her?”

             “Yeah,” I tell him.

             “
I don’
t want to mess with it
because she clearly has something unique. But whatever team she gets on we are
going to have you be her pitching coach,” he explains as the other coaches nod
in agreement.

             “Oh,”
I stutter. I
’
m not sure she
’
ll be too happy about that.
Fuck.

             “Plus you
’
re going to need to
train her catcher on how not to break her hand while catching for her,” he
jokes, and him and his posse of coaches erupt into laughter.

             “Just check with her first,” I suggests. “If she
doesn
’
t need me, I don
’
t
want to intrude.”

            Three days later I
’
m sitting in
my bedroom about to take a shower after baseball and meet up with Alex and
Benny when my mom knocks on my door.

             “Skyler, Bianca is here to see you,” she innocently
announces as she cracks the door open. I can hear the smile in her voice to see
the two of us talking again. But the only talking we
’
ve
done in the past few months has been strictly about baseball and softball,
nothing else. Buzz made sure of that after the homecoming fiasco.

             “Hey, B,” I cheerfully greet her as she walks in and
my mom closes the door behind her. Buzz is the only girl in the entire world
that my mom is okay with us being alone in my closed bedroom. I’m not sure if I
am, though. I hate that things are so awkward between us.

             “Coach McCallum announced the teams for this season,”
she begins slowly and quietly.

Shaking my head to comprehend what she
says, I reply, “Wow, that was quick.”

             “He said he liked what he saw at the open gyms and
there was no need for pressured tryouts,” she explains. I watch as her hands
clasp together and then fall apart multiple times. The crease on her forehead
is back. She
’
s nervous again. This isn
’
t
like her.
“Sky…” When she says my name I snap back to reality so I
’
m actually listening to her. “I
’
m on
Varsity.” The way she says it is like she can
’
t believe
it, like she has said it out loud a hundred times and she
’
s
still waiting to be woken up from her dream.

             “That
’
s awesome,” I grin. “Congrats.”
I stay sitting on my bed as she stands in the middle of my room. The tension in
the room is suffocating, and I
’
m not sure if a hug or any
type of physical contact will make it worse, so I can
’
t risk it.

            Her eyes scrunch in confusion, and then she asks, “Why
aren
’
t you surprised? The goal was JV; I just told you I
made Varsity… as a freshman.”

             “I could see the coaches
’
faces
during open gym, and I
’
m also your catcher and your coach,
sweetheart,” I tease.

             “Yeah, McCallum told me he wants you to really be my
coach,” she half-laughs as if it
’
s a crazy notion.

             “What do you think about it?” I wonder, knowing I
’
m going to give her the final say.

             “I can
’
t really say no,” she
chuckles while resting her eyes on me. She doesn
’
t want to
either
.
“Even Rex thinks it
’
s a good
idea.
”
He does?

             “
Then it
’
s
settled,” I announce, slapping my hands on my thighs and standing up.

             “Ha, okay. Well… thanks, Sky. I really owe you,” she
declares.

             “You
’
re welcome. And that
’
s ‘Coach
’
to you now, sweetheart,” I
snicker.

17 Bianca Ferrari

I
’
m my team
’
s secret
weapon. If we
’
re in a tight game, Coach McCallum will
bring me in during the sixth inning to finish off the rest of the game and make
sure no more runs score. Some girls can swing and make contact with my
change-up because it
’
s at a speed they
’
re
used to from every other pitcher in the league, but one of my teammates always
catches it. It
’
s weird to pitch to someone that isn
’
t Skyler or my Rockettes’ catcher, Rachel Jensen, who is on the
freshmen team. It’s taking me a while to feel comfortable increasing my pitch
speed to my highest ability. Cara is a junior and a very experienced catcher,
but Skyler still recommends she wears a batting glove under her mitt while
catching for me. Since catching for me is hard on her hand, she only catches
for me and no one else. This lets us bond on the bench, but we also have to be
careful with some of our conversations so that Skyler doesn
’
t
hear us. It
’
s nice to have someone that takes me under her
wing since I
’
m the only freshman on the team. Hell, I
’
m the only underclassman at all. All the other freshmen and
sophomores are on JV or the freshmen team. It
’
s me and a
bunch of juniors and seniors on Varsity, but thankfully they accept me as one
of their own.

            “So when are you going to pitch with your eyes closed
again?” Cara asks me during a rainy home game when we
’
re
winning 4-1 in the top of the fifth inning.

            I burst out a hearty chuckle and assure her, “
I don’
t think I
’
ll be doing that anytime
soon… at least not during a real game.”

            “Why not? You would totally scare the shit out of the
batter,” she encourages the crazy idea. Her perfect smile is model worthy, but
she
’
s short enough that being a catcher is definitely her
calling. She has blonde hair that even at school I have only seen pulled back
into a ponytail. Even when she went to prom it was lifted off her shoulders in
an updo. She isn
’
t a tomboy, but she just doesn
’
t like any attention on her, and the easiest way to stop it
from occurring is to not try as hard as every other girl around her. It
’
s why her and I became such good friends so fast; neither of us
care about anyone else.

            “Yeah, exactly,” I agree, trying to imagine if I was
the batter and the pitcher closed her eyes before throwing the ball. “I think
my pitches do that enough. I don
’
t need to make anyone pee
their pants.”

            “I can
’
t believe Skyler trusted
you to throw like that,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “I guess that
’
s what happens when you grow up with the love of your life.”

            I spit out a sunflower seed before I choke on it, and
exclaim, “What?”

            “Oh, shut up. You heard me,” she glares at me. I
glance across the dugout to see if Skyler can hear her, too, but he
’
s sitting on the opposite end of the bench with his eyes glued
on our pitcher. The rain smashing onto the tin roof above us helps mask her
crazy outburst, but I can
’
t guarantee that one of our
teammates on the bench isn
’
t just pretending to be
oblivious when she actually heard her.

            “I
’
m…” I start telling her I
’
m dating Chase Morgan, but I realize that it
’
s
never really been official. We hang out all the time, and he even took me to
the Valentine’s dance. No flowers, but he did take me to dinner with a big
group of people. Considering all I wanted from him was alcohol when this
started, I’d say we’ve significantly progressed into something more than
acquaintances… more than friends, too, if you ask me. Not sure what his answer
would be if you asked him. I refuse to ask. I like that we don’t have a label.
“I
’
m kind of with Chase Morgan. Sky and I were never
together.”

             “Yeah, and half the team has been with Chase Morgan.
He
’
s JT
’
s most promising
protégé
,” she informs me. I recall what Skyler told
me almost a year ago at his sixteenth birthday party; JT was bad news and slept
with half the softball team and half the cheerleading squad. I
’
m
constantly being told that Chase isn
’
t right for me, but
this is the first time anyone has compared him to JT. And she has no idea that
I even know JT
’
s reputation. “Oh, shoot. I forgot you
’
re a youngster that wasn
’
t here during JT
’
s time. He graduated last year -”

            “Yeah, I know him. I met him at Sky
’
s
birthday party last year,” I correct her. Then I laugh as I think about what
happened between me and him that night, and Cara sends me a pair of questioning
eyebrows. “If you only knew…”

            “Then tell me, you bee-yotch,” she jokes, nudging me
in my side.

            “He was sort of my first kiss, and it happened at the
party that night,” I enlighten her with an I-was-innocent-I-swear look.

            This makes her burst out in laughter and all the
coaches turn their heads and look at us. I
’
m quietly
giggling in embarrassment as my cheeks burn, but Cara can barely control
herself. Our other teammates on the bench look over nonchalantly but eventually
just ignore us since it
’
s typical for her and me to be
obnoxious on the bench. No one can understand us completely. After a minute of
laughing at my expense, she tells me, “I
’
m sorry; it
’
s really not that funny. I mean, it is… but only because I
remember watching him kiss some girl at that party and watching Skyler freak
out about it. I had no idea that was you. You were a little baby!”

            Rolling my eyes, I try to defend myself, “Well Sky just
didn
’
t like him, and to be honest I didn
’
t
either.”

            “But you like Chase Morgan,” she points out.

            “I also liked
you
before this conversation.
Now, not so much,” I tease.

            “
I just don’
t think he
’
s a good guy. I
’
ve
seen him with other girls, and I think you can do better,” she lectures me. Our
friendship is already off to a weird start; first I was just the new freshman
and she the veteran junior, then we became equal teammates, then friends, and
sometimes she shifts into big sister mode like I occasionally do with Baylee.
This is one of those times.

            “It
’
s just high school, and we
aren
’
t anything serious,” I remind her, looking out onto
the muddy field the rain is creating. Right now I just want to go out there and
pitch, but we have a significant enough lead that I know Coach isn
’
t going to let me. It
’
s the fifth game of
the season and I already know his methods. So I sit in the dugout and replay my
conversation with Cara in my head. I realize that in
my mind
,
this thing with Chase is something real, even if I can
’
t
admit it out loud.

            A few weeks later is the final game of the regular
season against our cross-town rivals, Hinsdale South. Coach McCallum throws
everyone off as he reads the lineup for the day when he says my name for
starting pitcher and Cara
’
s for starting catcher. We
exchange a questioning look but don
’
t say anything and
just head out onto the field to start warming up. After a few slow pitches,
Skyler approaches me on the mound.

            “You
’
re ready to be a starter,” he
tells me matter-of-factly. It could’ve been phrased as a question, but he
purposely didn
’
t let it.

            “It just took me by surprise,” I admit, fixing my hat
so I can see him better. “I
’
m a closer.”

            “Now you
’
re a starter,” he
states. “Do you need anything?” Shaking my head I watch as he heads back
towards the sideline to examine my pitching mechanics. He always wears his
baseball pants, backwards hat, and his own Hinsdale Central t-shirt jersey to
attend our games. I think he knows I have a thing for baseball pants, especially
his, and it
’
s his way of trying to distract me from having
nerves on the mound.

            “B!” Cara shouts from behind the plate. I have three
pitches left to throw before the game starts, so she gestures with her hand as
if to say,
What the hell was that? We
’
re
about to start a big game.
Yeah, she totally saw me check out my pitching
coach
’
s ass.

            I tilt my hat down at her and take my stance to throw
my last three pitches. Each one is a bit faster, which Skyler taught me to do
so I can ease into it and not hurt my arm. Most high school softball pitchers
don
’
t have to worry about throwing their arm out, but
because I throw it so fast so consistently, I do, especially if I
’
m
pitching more than two short innings.

            As the batter walks up to the plate, I examine the stands
and see my brother, Benny, Tiffany, Baylee, my dad, Stephan, Susie, and Tom. Of
course Mom isn
’
t here yet. She and Theresa never show up
to our games on time. But all I need is my dad to be there, and he always is
unless he has to be out of town for work.

            The first inning I go three up, three down with three
strikeouts. It
’
s our second time facing our cross-town
rivals this season, but the first time I only pitched two innings to close out
the game. I can tell they have been practicing because the third batter made
contact on one of my curveballs. Luckily it went foul, but I have a feeling it
won
’
t be the last contact we see today.          When we
come in to bat, I grab my helmet and batting gloves before shaking out my right
shoulder. I feel a hand start massaging it, and I whip my head around prepared
to hit Skyler if it
’
s him doing it. Fortunately it
’
s only Cara, so I let out a deep breath out of relief.

             “Relax, Bianca,” she suggests, shaking me by my
shoulder. I had no idea that I was so tense, but my catcher knows me as well as
my personal pitching coach does and it
’
s kind of nice to
have a support system even if they aren
’
t blood related.

            I
’
m third up to bat behind our
senior captain Laurie and then Cara, and it
’
s like
everyone in the league knows I can hit almost as well as I pitch. Laurie flew
out and Cara grounded into the outfield to take first base. Then the infield
takes two steps forward as I plant my feet in the batter
’
s
box and stare at the pitcher. I let the first pitch go past me per my third
base coach
’
s instructions. It
’
s
inside anyways. The next one is even closer to me, causing me to jump back and
spin away from the batter
’
s box to catch my breath.
She
wants to hit me.

            The next pitch I take a step away from the plate to
allow for extra room in case she throws it inside again. The ball is coming
down the middle of the plate, so I reach and swing hard, sending the ball into
right field.

           
Pitch, please. I’ll outsmart you every time.
I
sprint to first base as I see Cara heading for third. I glance to where the
ball lands, and the right fielder is still chasing it behind her so I take off
for second base. What I didn
’
t realize is that the girl
has a cannon for an arm. I dive head first towards second base and let my body
slide away from the girl trying to tag me out. What can I say, I like to make
things exciting. After the umpire calls me safe, I ask for time to stand up and
brush myself off. That
’
s when I feel it. The dirt tore up
the skin on my pitching arm, and I
’
m bleeding through the
rocks stuck on me. It stings, but all I can think about is pitching the rest of
the game.

            McCallum calls me to the bench as one of my
teammates, Natalie, runs to take my place on second base. I give Cara a high
five as I run past her on third, and when I enter the dugout, Skyler
immediately approaches me to examine my banged up arm. His eyes harden as he
gets a closer look and tries to read my emotional state, which happens to be
fine. I
’
m numb from the pain and just want to play. On the
surface I
’
m kind of annoyed that Sky is so brotherly and
concerned, but deep down I like it. He
’
s always had a soft
spot for me and only me.

             “You alright?” he asks me, grabbing my wrist. Worry
covers his face, and I can tell it
’
s more for me
personally than for me pitching the rest of the game.

             “Yeah. Where
’
s Trainer Rick?
Get him to bandage me up so I can go out and pitch when this inning is over,” I
demand frantically. We already have one out, and I proved earlier that getting
outs can happen quickly.