Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1)

by Bri Izzo

  Buzz has her special padded hat that she fucking hates wearing because she said it feels like she’s wearing a cloud on her head. Her batting helmet has a face mask for additional protection as well as an extra layer of padding on the inside. The girl never bats an eye on the mound or at the plate; in fact, I have never seen her so confident on a softball diamond.

  On an overcast Tuesday evening, the girls are playing Willowbrook on our home diamond with Buzz starting at the pitcher’s mound. It’s the fourth inning in another shutout when it hits her in front of what would be a sell-out crowd if the high school sold tickets to regular season games.

  From the dugout, I’m up against the fence, my fingers gripping onto the wrought iron in anticipation for Buzz making the last out of the inning so she can come in and bat. It’s a habit of mine to stand right up against the fence and watch through the open space that’s the doorway in and out of the dugout. It gives me the opportunity to easily run out to the mound, if needed. During the first game of the season one of the juniors who is new to varsity this year whined at me that she couldn’t see the batter, and after I gave her a death glare, she and everyone else shut the fuck up the rest of the season. There’s a reason that girl is on the bench and my girl is on the mound as a sophomore.

  Buzz’s curveball has significantly increased in speed from last year, which surprises everyone - everyone except for me, of course. We worked on that constantly during her off season so that by the time spring rolled around, she was ready. What we hadn’t anticipated is someone actually hitting it.

  This girl from Willowbrook is huge. I mean she makes some of our football players look scrawny. She’s their catcher, and when she steps up to the plate I instantly call “time” to go talk to Buzz. If she isn’t nervous about having Tonka with a mean bat only forty-three feet away from her, I’m enough of a fucking wreck for the both of us.

  “You can’t just call ‘time’ whenever you feel like telling me you love me,” Buzz teases when I’m close enough to her on the mound that no one else can hear her. I have my back turned to Cara, which basically says, fuck off, to her. It’s just me and Buzz for the moment, and her comment is exactly what I expect from her: sassy yet flirty. She has no makeup on and looks like she could be on the next cover of Sports Illustrated, but that's not why I ran out here.

  “As much as I do, that’s not why I called ‘time’,” I alert her, giving her a serious look.

  Immediately she snaps back into player-coach mode. “Oh, then what?” she asks. She has struck out almost every single one of the batters so far. The only ones she hasn’t had balls that were caught or made for a play to get an out. Basically, Buzz is pitching a perfect game. It’s only the fourth inning, and she hasn’t had one all season, but again, that’s not why I interrupt the game. That would be the stupidest move on my part if I jinx her perfect game.

  “I don’t want you to pitch timid to this girl,” I begin, but then I realize that I kind of do want exactly that.

  “I won’t,” she replies, scrunching her eyebrows at me in complete confusion. I can’t blame her. Doubting her at all is totally foreign to me, and it tastes like Asian curry - pure shit.

  “She’s known for hitting line drives, and she’s a beast. I just want you to be careful defending her,” I give her the best professional advice that I can. Nodding, she twists the ball between her fingertips inside of her glove. Before I walk away from her, I add quietly, “And I do love you, sweetheart.”

  I walk backwards towards the dugout so I’m able to watch her hide her giddy feelings. Sure enough, Buzz drops her head and pretends to fix her hat as she looks at the ground. But I see her smirk before she can hide it.

  Buzz is smart, probably the smartest player on the field at all times. She will never throw a pitch without being absolutely focused on the batter at hand. The umpire looks like his knees are going to buckle underneath him as Buzz takes her final breath before the pitch. Her arm circles around, and a nasty curveball soars towards Cara.

  It’s only the first pitch to this girl, but somehow Tonka makes contact, and the ball comes flying back even faster in a direct line towards Buzz. No way would anyone have had enough time to react and get out of the way, not even a fly. She hits the ground so fast that the batter doesn’t even attempt to run to first base. The entire crowd gasps and immediately goes silent. I can’t even determine where she got hit; all I know is that she’s down and incredibly still.

  I shake the fence and its rattling is the only noise for miles as I release my grip on it. “Buzz!” I yell as I retrace my steps back to the pitcher's mound where she lay. I panic that this event will erase all the progress she has made in the last ten months. She isn’t at a hundred percent, but she passed her six month exam and has the doctor’s blessing to get her driver’s license. I can’t tell you the last time I saw her unconscious, but it brings back so many horrific memories. “Sweetheart, can you hear me? Blink if you can hear me.”

  Holy shit. Her eyelids actually move. They barely open and then close and then do it again. She isn’t unconscious. Deep breath. The poor girl is clearly in so much agony.

  McCallum and Trainer Rick are a few feet behind me, and I look up at them as I squat next to Buzz and lightly squeeze her wrist.

  “Call the ambulance over,” I demand calmly.

  They both nod, and Trainer Rick sprints down the third base line to cut through the fence and get to the parking lot. The ambulance is parked further down in between the softball diamond and the soccer field where another game is being played.

  “Bianca?” McCallum says softly, but all it does is make Buzz moan. And it’s not any type of moan I ever want to hear again. She still hasn’t even tried to move, and I think it’s because she knows that’s the smartest thing to do, to stay still.

  When I look over at McCallum who takes the spot next to me, the look in his eyes is so fatherly that I almost jump out of my skin. He sees right through me, and I know Buzz and I are fucked.

  I see red ambulance lights flash as they near the third base side fence. A group of paramedics and Trainer Rick step onto the field as the girls on our team huddle in the outfield. Tiffany and Cara are the only ones that don’t look like they just saw their teammate take a bullet. They’re holding each other’s hands but have confident, stern looks upon their faces. It’s exactly what Buzz would want to see from two of her best friends and teammates. Tiffany isn’t even nervously hacking at her neck, so I know she’s not too worried.

  “Hey, B,” I coo as her eyes open in a more permanent manner. Her eyelids look heavy, but she’s determined to stay awake. I’m still holding onto her wrist, which is more of a safety blanket for me than for her. It allows me to feel her pulse and hold onto her without totally confirming what McCallum’s eyes see.

  “Wow,” she mumbles breathlessly. Her eyes close again. It’s as if that one word exhausts her completely.

  “Just don’t move. They’re going to get you on a stretcher,” I coach her in case she suddenly has any crazy ideas.

  “Wait,” she mutters. I know what she’s going to try to say. This girl wants to finish the damn game. Yeah right. The paramedics are taking forever to get their shit together anyways, so I give her a look that says go ahead. “Did... I have… a perfect… game?”

  McCallum and I both share a light laugh. It was only the fourth inning, but technically she did. “Yes,” I tell her. I look down at her left hand covered by her glove and the damn ball clasped inside of it. Unbelievable. She fucking caught that rocket, and the force from it is what knocked her down? Wow. That explains why Tonka didn’t go to first base. “How are you feeling, tough girl?”

  “Not so tough,” she admits, moving her hand in a circular motion, causing my hand to slither down to hers. I sense McCallum’s eyes on me holding Buzz’s hand, but I honestly don’t fucking care. She needs me; she comes first. He can fire me for all I care.

  “You’re taking this better than I would’ve,” I confess. I don’t ev
en think she realizes how hard she hit the ground because she isn’t even crying or trying to hold tears inside. She’s just lying here in fear of increasing pain if she moves even the slightest bit. I don’t know how she doesn’t feel tough right now; she’s literally the strongest person I know. “You got the third out, B.” I slide her glove off her hand and show her the softball inside of it, and she smiles knowingly.

  The paramedics finally approach us with the stretcher, and McCallum and I step back. Somehow they manage to sneak the stretcher completely underneath her without moving her body seemingly at all. When they lift her up, the crowd gently applauds, and to everyone’s surprise, Buzz picks up her right arm and waves as if to say, I’m okay.

  I watch as the paramedics place the stretcher on top of the gurney and wheel her to the rear of the ambulance. As I follow them about ten feet behind, Alex and Allen meet me on the other side of the fence.

  “One person. Who’s coming?” the female paramedic asks the three of us.

  In reality, they both trump me. They’re blood. So I look at them to see who is going, and they both give me approving looks. “Go,” Allen orders me. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  With no time to spare, I hop up the step and climb in to sit on the bench to the side of Buzz. Before they close the doors Alex and I exchange a strong, hard, and slightly confusing look. I have no idea what he means by it, but I know he’s worried about his sister so hopefully it’s just that. Buzz is now connected to oxygen, but her eyes are wide open as one of the paramedics is talking to her. She almost looks too blissful to have just fallen so fucking hard from the sudden impact of the ball and lying in the back of an ambulance.

  And then the ambulance starts driving away and the siren sounds. I have never heard such a piercing groan in my entire life. No one in the ambulance except for me understands why she suddenly drastically switches moods, but there’s nothing I fucking can do. They need the siren on so they can get her to the hospital as soon as possible.

  It’s in this moment of witnessing my girl reach to cover her ears that I realize that ambulances aren’t always the best options in an emergency.

  37 Bianca Ferrari

  Holy shit is that siren annoying! It’s apparently my first time ever riding in an ambulance, at least since my accident, and man, I’m going to be deaf and stupid by the time we get to the hospital. All I want to do is thank Skyler for always driving me to the hospital in previous incidents because oh my God; it’s killing me! Skyler gives me his hand to squeeze, and I think he realizes it’s a mistake the moment I grab it and his hand probably turns blue. I can’t see it; I can only feel it. The only thing that soothes me in this ambulance filled with jostling medical equipment and paramedics is my boy’s lips next to my ear and his voice coming from them.

  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make make happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

  He repeats this three times, and by halfway through the first go around, I’m melting into a giant puddle on the ambulance cot. Where he got that song from, I have no idea. I just try to focus on the reassurance of him being here and doing whatever is in his power to make me feel better - no matter how stupid the looks are that he receives from the paramedics. Eventually closing my eyes helps me tunnel in on just him and ignore the siren the best I can.

  You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

  He has never said those words to me before, but I love it. He’s my Sky, and I’m his Sunshine. I loosen my grip on his hand and then gently squeeze him again. By then the siren stops completely and I’m being wheeled out of the ambulance.

  “Hang tight, B! I’ll be right there!” he calls after me, but I know I’m going to be okay.

  The CT scans are standard protocol for my hospital visits, but the x-ray is new. Apparently my cheek is slightly swollen, but I can’t even feel it. The x-ray shows a fracture in my cheekbone. They think it may have cracked when the ball and my glove hit it. Thankfully they’re letting me stay in my softball uniform instead of putting me in a nasty hospital gown. Although they are drafty in fun places, I’m never thrilled with wearing them. My softball pants and jersey make me feel stronger than I ever feel in anything else.

  When my nurse Patrice brings me back to my temporary emergency room, Rex, my dad, and Skyler are waiting for me with the Cubs game on the TV in the corner. My eyes mirror theirs as I check the score and inning. Cubs up one on the Pirates in the bottom of the seventh at home.

  All three of them turn their attention on me the second I’m wheeled into the room, but I don’t acknowledge them until after I check the score of the game. At first I connect eyes with Skyler, and he gives me an assuring look like this emergency room visit is just a mediocre check-up. That’s when Rex comes over and offers me a bro-type high-five hug like I have seen him give Skyler and Benny countless times throughout my life. With both of their relaxed attitudes, I feel confident I will be going home shortly and will not be spending another night in a stupid hospital. I swear I’ve spent more nights in a hospital bed in the last year than in my own bed. Okay, that is completely true but only because I spend most nights at Skyler’s. My data is skewed.

  “You look good, B. How you feelin’?” Rex asks me, casually glancing up at the Cubs game when the bat hits the ball.

  “Fine. I think Sky overreacted with the ambulance and everything,” I admit. I can agree I should’ve been done for the game, but just because it took me longer to recover from being knocked out doesn’t mean I needed to be carted off the field and into the dreadful emergency room.

  “No. He did the right thing. You went down hard,” he argues. A protective expression covers his face, and it instantly hits me in the gut. This is the first time he’s seen me in a hospital since my accident. I feel so guilty for making him worry.

  “I don’t even know how my team is doing now, though,” I complain, fidgeting on top of the bed sheets, dirty cleats and all.

  “Benny is keeping me updated. I told him to stay and come after if we were still here,” he informs me.

  Skyler hears our conversation and adds, “I’m sure Ashton can hold them the rest of the game. Don’t worry.” We’re such a sport-knit group that it’s almost disgusting how much we all care about games. Softball and baseball are life, at least ours.

  “How you doin’, tough cookie?” my dad approaches us, reaching to lightly squeeze my ankle. He hardly ever sees the effects of my brain trauma. His hours at work make him go to bed early and wake up early, and unlike me, he sleeps soundly. This is one of the few times he’s seen me in a hospital. At least I’m actually not in pain for once. I just have a headache, which is an every day occurrence.

  “I’m okay,” I answer with a daddy’s girl smile. My dad is the one who taught me to be tough like the boys, but my smile is kept small because my cheek’s sudden stinging stops me. “That hat is useless though.”

  “That hat probably saved your life,” he declares. It’s cute, so I let him have it. If I survived flying head first into a stationary wooden block in the lake, I’m pretty much invincible. No piece of fabric has anything on me.

  When we get home and I’m about to leave for Skyler’s for the night, Rex isn’t pleased with me. I leave before my parents or Rex can try to convince me to stay home. I can’t worry about it. Skyler’s house is my sanctuary; my house is a scare zone. I hate sleeping alone and dislike waking up on my own even more. Skyler will take care of me, and everyone in my house knows that. The next morning I wake up in Skyler’s bed, shower, change into the clothes I brought over, and grab a pop tart before meeting him at his Jeep in the driveway.

  As we park at school, I notice everyone walking from their cars into the building has on purple shirts. Like, literally everyone. But I walk alongside Skyler like every other morning.

  When I see the garden of purple in the cafeteria, I feel like I ran into an overwhelmingly humid greenhouse. I can feel my cheeks turn
ing into tomatoes.

  “Sky…” I try speaking but am at a total loss.

  “You okay?” Skyler asks me. He’s acting as if he’s totally oblivious to everyone wearing one of my two favorite colors.

  Then my other favorite color catches my attention from his shirt and one table of girls in the cafeteria. He must’ve planned to wear lime green with the rest of my teammates. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The figurative spotlight is completely on me as the entire cafeteria of students silences when I walk through the doors.

  Full tomato gardens are turning into boiling spaghetti sauce on my face.

  “What the hell is happening?” I ask in a quiet voice so only Skyler can hear me.

  I want Skyler to put his hand on me and whisk me away from this, but he knows he can’t touch me at all while we’re at school. Instead, he just leans towards me and whispers, “Your teammates and classmates wanted to show you their support.”

  Glancing around the room, I see that everyone, even Chase and Leah, are wearing purple and staring at me. “I’m not dying. You told them that, right?” The statement is true but it comes off as sarcastic. Seeing my whole school in a mourning-like state makes me feel like I’m at my own funeral. I don’t want this.

  “Some of your teammates were scared when they saw you fall last night. They all kind of know what you’re going through, so they organized this. Just think of it as more for them than for you if it makes you feel better,” Skyler explains. It’s weird, but it actually helps me get over it. If they want to feel like they’re doing something, I can let them. Then Sky adds, “Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but the stands were a sell-out crowd last night. Hence the whole fucking school in purple.”