Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1)

  The Catcher Series

  Book 1: Full Count

  B. Izzo

  Full Count Copyright © 2015 by B.H.Izzo

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any capacity without written permission by the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, characters, or resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, are coincidental and originate from the authors’ imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Cover image and design by Elizabeth Izzo ©

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: Bianca Ferrari

  1 Bianca Ferrari

  2 Skyler Swanson

  3 Bianca Ferrari

  4 Skyler Swanson

  5 Bianca Ferrari

  6 Skyler Swanson

  7 Bianca Ferrari

  8 Skyler Swanson

  9 Bianca Ferrari

  10 Skyler Swanson

  11 Bianca Ferrari

  12 Skyler Swanson

  13 Bianca Ferrari

  14 Skyler Swanson

  15 Bianca Ferrari

  16 Skyler Swanson

  17 Bianca Ferrari

  18 Skyler Swanson

  19 Bianca Ferrari

  20 Skyler Swanson

  21 Bianca Ferrari

  22 Skyler Swanson

  23 Bianca Ferrari

  24 Skyler Swanson

  25 Bianca Ferrari

  26 Skyler Swanson

  27 Bianca Ferrari

  28 Skyler Swanson

  29 Bianca Ferrari

  30 Skyler Swanson

  31 Bianca Ferrari

  32 Skyler Swanson

  33 Bianca Ferrari

  34 Skyler Swanson

  35 Bianca Ferrari

  36 Skyler Swanson

  37 Bianca Ferrari

  38 Skyler Swanson

  39 Bianca Ferrari

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue: Bianca Ferrari

  I live my life like I’m in the batter’s box and the count is full. Every decision and every moment can lead to either a strikeout or a home run. And I like to swing for the fences.

  Since I’m only a year younger than my brother Rex, I can’t help checking out the boys on his baseball team. My age has never mattered; I’ve always been a boy crazed girl who appreciates a good pair of baseball pants and a backwards baseball hat.

  I have this theory about guys that wearing a baseball hat automatically makes them one ranking higher on the attractive scale than when they’re not wearing one. For instance, a guy I would normally rank as a nine would instantly be considered a perfect ten if he just puts on a baseball hat. The bonus part of my theory is if he’s wearing the hat backwards - that bumps him up two rankings. It doesn’t matter what kind of baseball hat he’s wearing - trucker hat, snapback, fitted, flat brim. The theory works on every guy. Even a guy ranked at a three can be bumped up to a four just by adding a baseball hat to his ensemble.

  Baseball catchers always have on backwards baseball hats, and, often times they have the best pants, too, since they squat all game. My brother’s team’s catcher was a little scrawny as a kid yet easily in the top two most athletic boys on the team. He just needed to develop his muscles, which happened during his high school years.

  It’s no coincidence that his dad and my dad co-founded the local Rockets baseball team that the boys played for that traveled throughout the state of Illinois playing other similarly built teams. They also co-own an advertising agency in downtown Chicago that keeps them busy most of the year. Our dads are best friends despite sending their kids to different elementary schools. With their competitive nature, the plan has always been to compare how privately and publicly schooled kids would compete against each other, both academically and athletically, once they reach high school. My money is on the public school kids. I know my brother is a genius despite picking out his own outfit every day for school. I, however, don’t really care about school. I can never wait for summer to come so I can just watch baseball or play softball every single day. I compete in the athletic part of the friendly competition.

  Our dads have been best friends since college, so I’ve known the Swansons since I was in the womb. My first clear memory with their oldest son, Skyler, who grew up to be a catcher with amazing baseball pants, is when I was five (and he and my brother were six) when our dads took us to our first Cubs game at Wrigley Field. It was my first exposure to the game of baseball. I loved every second of it from the smell of peanuts, hot dogs, and beer to the players’ tight pants as they waited for their pitch in the batter’s box. My love for baseball, boys, and boys’ baseball pants started that very day. Our dads bought us each a Cubs hat to commemorate the game. Besides that annual outing, we also played t-ball through the YMCA, stayed with one babysitter at one house so our parents could all go out for dinner and drinks, and played together whenever we had the chance. Skyler was basically my second older brother, which also came along with him and Rex ganging up on me. It was all in good fun and the teams actually rotated enough that it wasn’t always the two boys against me; Skyler made sure of that. It was the three of us against the world - but mostly against our parents.

  When Skyler turned eight I was the only girl invited to his birthday party, so I had to find a way to mingle with the boys so they wouldn’t exclude me or pick on me. I wore my Cubs hat to try to combat the outfit my mom picked out for me to wear - overalls with a pink t-shirt underneath. It was my way of rebelling against my mom’s dream of having two cutesy and girly daughters. My younger sister Baylee is girly enough for both of us.

  By the time that summer ended I already had a crush on Skyler, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself. I was only a kid at the time; boys were supposed to still have cooties. We played together all the time so that never registered with me. It wasn’t until Halloween that I realized that those were butterflies flying around my stomach whenever I saw him. A resemblance to Benny Rodriguez from The Sandlot occurred right around that age, which officially sealed my crush on Skyler. I dressed up as Buzz Lightyear while Rex was my Woody. The entire night I was hitting people with my ejected wings, which was not only annoying to them, but to me as well. Then my nickname was born to me: Buzz. Everyone was teasing me all night long for wearing a boy’s costume. The only one who continued to call me by my nickname after that night was Skyler, and I’m pretty sure it was because he had a hard time remembering my real name.

  As we were walking ahead of the group to go to the next house, Skyler whispered to me, “What was your full name again?”

  Even at the ripe old age of seven I had perfected my you-have-to-be-kidding-me face, which slightly frightened him. “Really?” I demanded, this time purposely smacking him with one of my wings.

  “I’m bad with names,” he tried telling me, but I didn’t buy it. Although, to his defense, he never addressed me or anyone else by name. At best he called me “B.”

  “Sky, we’ve been friends since we were born and you can’t remember my name? You’re stupid,” I told him flat out. Before I stormed ahead of him I blurted out, “Just call me Buzz. That can’t be too hard to remember.”

  “I’ll try,” I heard him say as I continued lengthening my lead on our group. I approached a house with two dogs running around in the front yard and thought I could bypass them through the grass up to the front door. They were so quick that I ended up right in the middle of their game of tag.

  “Daddy!” I screamed as the dogs started chasing me. I was such a daddy’s girl growing up, mostly because I liked the same things he did and he taught me to be tough like the boys. I looked back at
the street to see that the only person within a reasonable distance of me was Skyler, who was already sprinting towards me in his Spider-Man costume. My wings were about to be the dogs’ dinner, but instead, Skyler jumped behind me, grabbed me by my waist, and forced me to the ground as he fell on top of me. I heard one dog scamper away as the owner shouted for them both to come to her, but the other dog must’ve thought Skyler looked appetizing and bit his teeth into his leg. Skyler’s scream was piercing, but when I rolled over to see if he was okay, his eyes bulged at the sight of my face.

  “What?” I mumbled, lightly touching my hand to my face. When I pulled away all I saw was blood. His blood on his leg through his torn Spider-Man pants and my blood gushing out of my nose and mouth. Apparently when he tackled me my face broke my fall, and I looked like Zurg had defeated me. I was so scared of the dogs biting me that my face was numb.

  That night we were both rushed to the hospital but managed to clean up with no major injuries. My fall caused one of my baby teeth to fall out and my nose to bleed, but thankfully it wasn’t broken. Skyler just needed to be cleaned up since the dog had all of its shots.

  The next time I recalled seeing Skyler’s dog bite was in the spring when the boys’ baseball season started. When their first game finished, the boys stripped off their socks and baseball pants (such a shame) to wear sandals and athletic shorts when we went to Culver’s for custard. Walking through the entrance, I could see Skyler had a deep scar from the dog’s teeth gouged into his leg.

  “Does it still hurt?” I asked him quietly while we stood in line to order our food.

  “Does what still hurt?” he wondered, barely turning in my direction as he scanned the menu like he had never eaten there before. It was our go-to place for celebratory butter burgers and custard, so I knew he was just avoiding me.

  “Your leg,” I replied as though it were obvious.

  “No but it’s weird when everyone looks at it and talks about it. People at school tease me that a bear was trying to eat me and other stupid stuff,” Skyler half laughed to show me it was okay to laugh with him.

  “They also laugh that he got it so the dog wouldn’t bite a giiiirl,” Skyler’s younger brother Sam piped in from behind. He was seven - the same age as me - and still thought girls had cooties. Girls thought he had cooties until he was in high school, so him teasing Skyler did no good in the long run.

  “Well I think it makes you look tough. And I never really thanked you,” I realized, trying to ignore Sam. He was a shorter clone of Skyler on the outside, besides a giant gap between his front teeth. Otherwise they were complete opposites. Skyler was usually the reserved one while we could never get Sam to shut up.

  “It’s fine. If I wouldn’t have gone after you then you might not have a foot,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. When I turned silent to give him a confused look, he finally looked at me to clarify, “You’re so skinny that dog would’ve bit right through you.”

  The first time I ever really flirted with Skyler I was thirteen, and he was fourteen. We were sitting in the backyard of the baseball team’s coach for the annual party with the team and families. It was a typical suburban home with a nice private backyard where they set up a volleyball net with hoses as the boundary lines and tables and chairs scattered on the patio and deck. After I filled my plate with a cheeseburger, watermelon, and chips from the garage, I approached the patio filled with baseball players and siblings occupying every chair except for one, which happened to be right next to Skyler. My best girl friend Tiffany was sitting across from him and next to her older brother Benny who was on the team. Other chairs around the table were filled with slightly intimidating baseball players. I glared at Tiffany from afar, and she motioned with her eyes for me to sit next to Skyler. My heart was making me shake so much that I almost dropped my entire plate on the ground. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if every single person at the party didn’t have their romanticized eyes awaiting my next move. It was the first time since I realized I had a crush on Skyler that I had a chance to be close to him in front of the team. His dark hair poured out from underneath his backwards baseball hat, and I could tell the rest of it was spiked up inside of it from the way it rested high on his head. His jaw was hard and so alluring from the way he carried himself; he wouldn’t let anyone in past his sunglasses. I wanted what I couldn’t have, as usual.

  “Is this taken?” I asked in regards to the empty seat next to him.

  “Just waiting for you, sweetheart,” he replied. What? Did he just call me sweetheart? I’m dead. Bye. End of Story.

  Just kidding. That was just the beginning.

  1 Bianca Ferrari

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I hear someone call from our dock. When I look over I see Skyler standing on the edge with his hands on his bare hips above his swim trunks. Even as a fifteen year old he has a nice body, minus his farmer’s tan from playing baseball. But I kind of love it. It’s evidence that he’s a baseball junkie. His backwards baseball hat he’s wearing is also a clue; I swear the thing is glued to his head. Not that I’m complaining. He’s easily a twelve on the ten point scale while wearing his hat.

  We just arrived at our two story cabin on Lake Beulah in Wisconsin, about two hours from our houses in Hinsdale, Illinois. It looks more like a ritzy lake house a celebrity would own, but my parents went in on it with the Swansons, so it’s our home away from home.

  Skyler’s chest and abs tighten when he yells, “Buzz!” to get my attention for a second time. “We’re eating lunch first before we do anything.”

  Not that I need to be an official teenager to be validated as boy crazy, but I have been thirteen for almost a full year while on this trip and my hormones are going insane. It’s been a month since the first time Skyler called me sweetheart at his coach’s house. To try to avoid this feeling with him in such close proximity, as soon as my mom’s van stopped in the driveway I bolted out and down the giant backyard hill to the lake where I jumped in and swam out to the floating trampoline. I’ve been practicing back-handsprings, back tucks, and other crazy tricks as boats filled with families drinking and tubing pass me and wave, cheering for me. Skyler likes to check up on me sometimes when I run off from the group, but I’m not used to the crashing wave feeling that his presence is creating inside my stomach and chest. I try to play it off, but I hope he can’t hear the nerves creeping into my throat as I answer him.

  “Then what are you doing out here?” I yell as I continue to jump up and down. If he’s so worried about eating lunch first then he should be up there with the rest of the crew. It doesn’t phase anyone else that I’ve already bolted to do my own thing away from everyone.

  “Seeing what you want to eat,” Skyler answers. “They’re making subs.”

  I give him my order and he turns around so I can watch his ass and back muscles constrict and release as he walks back up the hill. He walks into the cabin through the walk-out basement that’s below two screened in porches. Inside, the two master bedrooms are for our parents, and the two smaller rooms have bunkbeds that sleep four people each. Ever since we were little Rex, Skyler, and Sam have shared one room while Baylee, Skyler’s little sister Savannah, and I have shared the other one. However, this trip contains more of our troops than just our families. We also brought along Tiffany and Benny Locket and their parents since it’s the Fourth of July weekend. Because of this, we gladly give up our beds to the adults so the kids can all camp out in the basement living room. As I appreciate the calm environment around me on the lake, I smile to myself as I think of what this holiday weekend has in store for us. Jet-skiing, tubing, wake-boarding, jumping off the high dive, fireworks, and our annual 4th of July Sandlot game. Oh what fun!

  Skyler and I have always been the rule breakers among the kids. The one we vowed to never follow is waiting thirty minutes after eating to go swimming. Yeah right, we say whenever our moms try pushing it on us, and then we jump in the pool or lake and go on with our adventures while everyone
else watches. This time, however, we are alone down by the lake while everyone is still putzing in the house.

  “You ready?” Skyler asks as he turns on the jet-ski. I reach around his waist as I sit behind him. Luckily he has on a life jacket so I can’t be teased by touching his abs. I nod and then he adds, “You know they’re going to kill us, right?”

  “Right, and you care?” I tease, peering over his shoulder.

  “No. Have we ever?” he laughs as he presses the gas slowly and we head out onto the lake. Feeling the hot summer sun and cool mist from our wake, I am in a delirious state of mind that makes me so high on life. I am carefree and with my crush on my favorite weekend of the year; even if we do get in trouble for taking the jet-ski without asking, it honestly won’t bother me. And I know it won’t be the only thing we get in trouble for this weekend.

  We glide across the lake and slow once we approach the sandbar. The beach is crowded with families and groups of friends who are all throwing back beers and screaming, and I loosen my hold around Skyler to lean back and stare at one guy for an extended amount of time.

  “Damn,” I ogle at the tall, muscular, probably college-aged guy with a backwards baseball hat on as he throws a football to one of his buddies. His smile is as blinding as the sun. Catching me in the act, the hottie winks at me and gives me a head nod before Skyler notices and elbows me in the side. Thankfully the lifejacket protects me a little, but it still surprises me. “Damn,” I repeat with more force towards Skyler.

  “Hold on tighter. We’re leaving,” he demands angrily. What is his problem?

  He leads us directly back to our dock where he ties up the jet-ski. We weren’t gone for very long, so no one even noticed our absence. I am slightly disappointed because part of the rush of disobeying rules is actually getting caught.

  “Sky, you’re not mad at me, are you?” I wonder as he refuses to look at me once we are walking on the dock. No answer. Guess he isn’t talking to me either. “Sky!”