Page 91 of Pitcher Perfect
As they watched, the kids ran to the far end of the park and fell into formation, still shouting and disagreeing, but ultimately getting their haphazard game underway. It took two pitches for the first batter to get a hit, the ball soaring across the expanse of grass, bouncing once and rolling to a stop at Skylar’s feet.
They traded a knowing glance.
“Do your thing, Rocket.”
She picked up the ball, tossed it up once and caught it, then fired it across the park, right into the catcher’s glove. Silence reigned in the park. But not for long. Everyone under the age of twelve started talking at once, each of them more animated than the last, but one voice stood out above the rest.
Or maybe he was just saying what Skylar wanted to hear.
“Can you pitch to us?”
Skylar liked to think she rearranged a few young minds that day, at least where gender norms were concerned. After the kids got over the fact thata girl could pitch, they settled into a boisterous line, each of them taking a turn trying to get a hit off her. When one of them finally connected, the ball fouling off into the trees, the group of boys celebrated like their buddy had just hit a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth of the World Series.
“She’s something, isn’t she, boys?” Robbie called when the noise died down.
The next batter stepped forward, striking the metal bat off his shaggy pair of Jordans. “She’s a lot cooler thanmyfriggin’ sister.”
“Hey.” Skylar wagged a finger. “No one is bad-mouthing any sisters on my watch.”
“Sorry, she’s the friggin’ worst.”
Robbie snorted around a bite of his third sandwich. “All right, you punks are hogging my girlfriend and I’m sick of it.” He waved his pastrami and cheese on rye. “One more batter and we’re out of here.”
Skylar didn’t outwardly react to Robbie calling her his girlfriend, even if her stomach flipped over like an egg being fried in oil.Sizzleclap.She tried to make the mental excuse that their actual relationship required too much explanation. Saying “girlfriend” was simply more expeditious. Except he was looking right at her now, chewing his sandwich with satisfaction and staring at her, as if to say,Yeah, you’re my girlfriend, what are you going to do about it?
And she might have been smiling back.
The eggs in her belly scrambled together.
Oh boy. Was this happening?Am I taking this leap?
The only thing that could have broken the spell in that moment was one of the kids whispering, “Girlfriends are grosser than sisters,” loudly enough to be heard in Cincinnati. Robbie threw back his head and laughed, startling a woman who passed by pushing a stroller. With her stomach still in chaos, Skylar fell into her pitching stance—and that’s when she noticed the one kid who hadn’t batted yet. He sat off to the side, his expression a cross between anxious and dejected. When Robbie stopped laughing, she watched him follow her line of sight over to the youngster.
“You want to bat, kid?” Robbie called.
The kid shook his head vigorously.
Robbie balled up his sandwich wrapper, threw it away, and walked over to the boy. Every eye was drawn to the conversation, turning the kid’s cheeks red, so Skylar put two fingers in her mouth and whistled to distract them. “Hey. Who’s my next victim?”
As she pitched to the final batter, she tried not to be obvious about listening to the conversation between the shy kid and Robbie, but she was too curious to ignore them completely. How was he going to handle this?
“What’s your name?”
“Bo.”
“Bo, you don’t like baseball?”
“No.”
“You have excellent taste. Neither do I.”
Skylar rolled her eyes.
“Although it’s definitely growing on me. Don’t tell the pitcher.”
She pretended not to hear that.
“All they want to do is play baseball, though. Every day.” Bo shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “They make me play even though I suck.”
