A/N 1: So. I had an entire upload schedule planned for this story, which has now gone out the window due to things like having a full time job, holiday festivities, family stuff (the good kind), etc. However, I am now on vacation, so expect this story to finish up in the next few days. Also, regarding Foobar137's review for the last chapter? 'What could possibly go wrong' indeed...
A/N 2: One of my favorite chapters for this story.
"Okay Isabella, you need to get the right grip on the ball. First, you place your thumb underneath the ball to anchor it."
"Uh-huh."
"And then you…"
I should just kiss him right now. Drop the bat, walk over to him, cup his face in my hands and-
"Isabella?" A hand touches my forehead, snapping me out of my daze.
"What are you doing?!"
He blinks at me. "Checking to make sure you don't have a fever or something. Thought you might be getting sick." His eyes search mine. "Are you okay?"
They're as blue as the ocean…
I smack myself. Snap out of it Isabella! He's talking to you! "Yeah. I'm fine. So…you were saying?"
"I said 'that's how you pitch.'"
Pitch? How long was I gone for? "Pitch?"
Phineas laughs. "Well yeah! In order to throw a perfect pitch, you need to know how to pitch correctly. There's pitching grips, angle of the ball, velocity—"
"Sounds complicated."
"Not really. Once you get the pitching grips down, it's pretty easy." He studies me. "Why don't you show me the various finger placements on the ball."
"Sure! What are they?"
"I just showed you."
"Oh." Great. Now what? Actually…I could probably make this work to my advantage… "Oh! You meant the finger positions for the various pitches! Right!"
"Now we're talking." He grabs the ball from the snow and hands it to me. "Let's start with a beginner's curveball."
"You got it. Umm…" I turn the ball around with my fingers, sticking my tongue out to look like I'm concentrating really hard. I eventually cover the entire ball with my hand. "There."
"That's not a grip. You're just holding it. Try again." I move the ball some more, placing my thumb on the bottom and my index finger on the top, the other three fingers pointed skyward. He frowns. "That's close, but not quite. Here." He goes to take the ball from me, only to freeze. "You know, this'll probably work better if you keep your hand on the ball and I just adjust your grip." He stands in front of me, only to move to my right side. "Of course, I kinda have to see the ball from your point of view to make sure I do it right."
My stomach jumps as his hand covers mine, gently moving my fingers into the correct placement. "Okay, place your middle finger on the bottom seam here and your thumb on the back seam." He takes my index finger, moving it away from the ball. "Leave this one off. Now when you throw, try to rotate your thumb upward. Your middle finger, if you do it right, should snap downward while your index finger points to your target. Which is me." Phineas grins as he takes a step back, studying my hand. "Looks good. Let's try pitching it."
"How do I do that?"
"Well, pitching stances are another lesson. For now, just try this." He gets into a basic pitching stance, nodding at me before turning his body, pretending to throw a ball down the length of the yard.
"Looks easy enough."
"It is." He squats down, pounding a fist into the palm of his gloved hand. "Just remember to aim for the glove."
"Right."
"Oh. I almost forgot." He takes the blue baseball cap off his head, turning it around backwards. "There. Much better."
Oh my gosh. That's adorable. I don't know why, it just is.
"Come on Isabella! Throw me a pitch!"
Pitch. Right. That's what I'm supposed to be doing. I glance down at the ball in my hand, trying not to move my fingers out of position as I reel my arm back, sending the ball flying toward Phineas.
A loud, sickening crack is heard and my heart stops for a split second as he crumples to the ground.
Oh my gosh! "Phineas!" I run over to where he's laying, both hands clutching his nose. "Phineas!"
"Owowowowowowowwww!" He yells in pain, tears filling his eyes. "It hurts it hurts it hurts! Mommy!"
I make a mad dash for the Flynn-Fletchers house, barging through their back door into the kitchen. 'MRS FLYNN-FLETCHER! MRS. FLYNN-FLETCHER! HELP!"
She comes running, a look of panic on her face. "Isabella! What on earth—"
"We were playing baseball in the backyard. I was pitching and-and—" I start crying. "I hit Phineas in the nose! It was an accident! He's on the ground! I don't know what to do!"
She runs into the backyard without a word and seconds later, Ferb walks into the kitchen. He blinks at me.
"Oh Ferb. I-I hit him with the baseball. It was an accident. I didn't mean to." I try to stop the tears, but they keep coming. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him!"
He walks over to me and without a word, reaches a hand out, pulling me into a comforting hug.
Despite the tears, I can't help a small smile. Phineas was right. It's not what Ferb doesn't say, it's how he doesn't say it.
"Ferb honey, I need you come with me." Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher walks back into the room, carrying Phineas. "We need to take Phineas to the Emergency Room." She looks at me. "Isabella, I'm sorry, but…you have to go home."
I nod obediently, letting go of Ferb and walking over to her. Phineas glances at me, eyes still wet with tears. His nose looks disjointed, like it was knocked out of alignment. A small bruise is already starting to form along the bridge. "Will he be alright?"
"He'll be fine. But we really need to go."
I follow them out to the front yard, shoulders slumping as their car pulls out of the driveway and down the street.
I hurt him. I hurt the one person in the whole entire world that I care about most. All in an attempt to get him to notice me.
I'm a terrible person.
