It’s super lame.
And thankfully, I feel nothing when I see it.
The Pin Ladies and T-Balls finally arrive, and they’re assigned to the lane about four down from ours. Olivia is trying to get them together for a group pic.
I rush over and say, “Want me to take it?”
She hands me her phone and then gets between Charlie and Wes. Looking at my family and Wes on the screen, I’ve never wanted to be a Pink Lady more.
I take several, then hand Olivia back her phone.
“Wait,” Wes says. “Let’s get one of the four of us.”
“Yes!” Olivia squeals.
Olivia and I get in the middle, then Wes stands beside me. His arm is around me, and he pushes in close. I know my smile is ridiculous, but I can’t help it. It feels like we’re the Fab Four again.
“Oh, I should have been on that team,” Olivia says once we’re done with pictures. She’s finally spotted Team I Can’t Believe It’s Not Gutter. I laugh.
“Sophie,” Uncle Michael calls. “You’re up!”
After two rounds, it is obvious I am not a good bowler. In fact, after two rounds, my score is still zero.
Zero.
Jason isn’t much better, but at least he’s in double digits.
“How many games do we play?” I ask.
“Two,” everyone on my team answers at the same time. They’re trying to be nice to me even though my score is dragging our team down, but I see one guy bury his head in his hands.
Is it bad I’m watching the game four lanes down more than my own? Probably. But I’m not the only one who can’t stop looking at the Pink Ladies and T-Balls. Jason has glanced over at Sara a dozen times.
When it’s my turn again, I can almost hear every member of my team groan as I line up at those dots in the floor.
“You need to take your first step with the same hand you hold the bowling ball with,” Wes says beside me. He’s got an imaginary ball in his hand and he steps forward on his right foot at the same time he swings his right hand forward. “It’s got to be done in the same motion.”
“Are you helping the other team?” Charlie yells. We both ignore him.
Wes nods to me. “Try it, but don’t let go of the ball, yet.”
I hold my ball in front of me and try to re-create what he just showed me, but my timing is all wrong. I back up and try it again, but the result is the same. And then he steps in behind me, putting his left hand on my hip and his right hand on my elbow.
“Okay, let’s try it one more time,” he says in my ear.
I nod because words have completely failed me at this point. He tugs on my elbow just as I step forward with my right foot and he follows me through the swing.
“Now go for it,” he says.
I take a deep breath and get back on the starting line. And then I’m off. The ball bounces twice on the lane before it starts a very slow roll toward the pins. I spin around and look at Wes.
“I can’t stand it. Just tell me how it ends.”
He laughs while he watches the slow progress of the ball behind me. My teammates are still smiling, so it must not be in the gutter yet.
Wes is nodding his head and murmuring, “Keep going…keep going.”
When I hear the sound of pins dropping, I twirl around in time to see seven of the pins fall.
