Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PRE-EIGHTH GRADE

D A T E : June-August 2009

✖ fame and fynn ✖

"Go, go, go! Run faster! C'mon you're almost there!"

The crowd was in a frenzy of shouting mothers and fathers on their feet, chanting and screaming at the baseball field where a game of softball was taking place, and Lizzie was out there on the field coaching from first base—more like shouting at toddlers half her size.

The kid lunged for home base, going so fast he collided with the chain fence separating him from his teammates going berserk. They all cheered and screamed while the pitcher from the other team let out a furious groan and threw his mitt to the dirt.

"Woo! We did it! Alright!" Lizzie's mom screamed from the sidelines, yanking Olivia off her seat and hugging her while jumping up and down. She dragged me in despite my protests, and nearly snapped me in half with how excited she was over their team's victory.

Lizzie came squealing from the field, whirling her baseball hat around in the air. "Little league champions! Woohoo!" She rounded all the kids up as the trophy was distributed to Lizzie's mom, who held it high over her head and howled into the air the chant of their victorious win.

The heat of the June sun beat down on us while we pulled out the cooler full of ice cream treats from the back of Lizzie's mom's van, the Mom Mobile, as Olivia called it. The two of us carried the cooler to the picnic tables at the park we were at, and started setting up for the festivities.

"Goodness sakes, I've never felt so nervous in my life," Olivia told me, grabbing a Capri Sun and stabbing the straw through the top. "I mean, except for track. Track's pretty hectic."

"Yeah, I dunno if I wanna do it next year. It stresses me out too much, and it's not like I like running to begin with," I commented, leaning back against the table and fetching an ice cream treat for myself.

"What're you talkin' about? You're an awesome runner."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I like it," I said. "But I dunno, Lucas would probably hate me for the rest of my life if I didn't join the team. He likes going to the meets."

Olivia sat on the table's surface and swallowed a gulp from her drink. "Well, ya know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Oh, I dunno. It's a saying, isn't it?" She giggled to herself and took another sip before checking the time on her watch. I rolled my eyes at her and sat down on the bench. The kids started coming over to fill their bellies with ice cream treats to celebrate the win, and eventually claim the nearest three picnic tables to sit on.

Lizzie strolled over, her hair spun up in a high ponytail and eyes wider than life. "That was incredible! Did you see Henry's catch? Who knew the kid could jump so high?"

"I dunno, that last home run was pretty out of the park," Olivia said, winking at me to make sure I got the pun. I got it.

"God I love little kids. Especially these ones! I mean, I wish I got to do stuff like this when we were in elementary school. I woulda kicked ass-"

"Hey there, language missy," her mom scolded, a few paces back. She came up and clapped her daughter on the shoulder, still smiling and jesting as always. "You kiddos wanna go into town, get your own real ice cream instead of—what are these? Klondike bars?"

"Hey, Klondike bars are delicious, and we aren't kids," Olivia said. "We're women."

"Uh-huh, and which one of you's got your periods yet? Yeah, that's right, now here's a twenty on the house." Lizzie's mom passed the money to her daughter, who was trying to hold back a laugh as Olivia scowled and muttered, "Hey, I'm almost there, ya know."

We left the park where Lizzie's mom and all the other parents were hanging out while their kids scarfed Klondike bars into their mouths and chugged Capri Sun juices. Olivia and Lizzie talked about everything that was on their minds, from the softball game to swimming later. The two of them were so close, I sometimes felt like a third wheel whenever they invited me to hang out, but I tried to block that out of my mind and remain neutral to it. They were the last two people I would want on the list of people who hated me, namely Bluebell and her group.

I zoned out for a while until we reached the main road that curved up a steep hill, and at the base of it were all the shops. Beyond the main street were the docks where the fishing boats were kept, along with Mr. Walton's old boat that now belonged to Lucas.

"Oh boy, classmate alert! I repeat, classmate alert!" Lizzie hissed to us, discretely pointing across the street where a group of our classmates were strolling along, soda bottles in hand and voices full of laughter. As soon as I recognized them, I strolled along Lizzie's right side where I was the least visible of all of them.

"Hey, isn't that Kole?" Olivia whispered, and Lizzie gasped, her voice betraying her excitement. Thanks to Joni and Landon and their big mouths, practically all of our friends knew about Kole and I, though there was totally nothing to talk about. It wasn't like we were dating or anything...

"Hey!" Lizzie started shouting, waving to them as a car passed. "Hey guys!"

Through the passing wind I heard Duncan say, "Isn't that Lizzie Echols?" and another say, "Yeah, I think so, and—oh, hey Skye!"

Drats.

Nothing had changed much after Kole revealed his insecurities, but deep down, I knew there was a scratch in our friendship that made me recognize the faults he betrayed. He always had to be doing something with his hands, he wore a beanie to hide a inch-long scar on the back of his scalp, and above all, he was living a lie.

He tried to act like hanging out was cool, like going to parties was fun, but really, he hated the school dances because that meant he had to talk to people. But in the end, he hated being alone the most, because that was when he was left with his thoughts. It was a common trait we shared, which explained why we were both standing across from each other, standing in groups of people to disguise the insecurities of being left alone.

The guys crossed the street as soon as an opening in traffic made it safe to go. Olivia and Lizzie fist-bumped Ryan, Duncan, and Kole, but I could only manage a wave and a casual, "Hey guys."

"What're you guys up to?" Lizzie inquired, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a stick of gum.

"We were gonna go play basketball at the park," Ryan told her, a slight, crooked smile on his lips. "Care to join us?"

"Nah, no thanks, I wouldn't want to embarrass you guys with my epic skills," she laughed, and he rolled his eyes before drawing his attention onto me.

He nodded at me and said, "What about you? What's goin' on?"

My mind went blank, and I managed to blurt out, "Nothin' much."

"C'mon, ya'll should come with us, s'not like you've got much else to do," Duncan said, nudging Kole in the shoulder as he did so. I caught sight of the red tinge to his ears, and I tried my best not to notice it, or the fact that Duncan was clearly teasing him.

Olivia rolled her eyes and made a move past them. "Uh, sorry, but we've got ice cream to attend to. See ya'll later!"

I followed suit, sneaking around Ryan and picking up my pace to keep up with Olivia. Lizzie came after us, giggling and laughing, prodding me in the arm while whispering in hushed voices about how adorable Kole was, acting all shy around us. Olivia scoffed and told her to keep her mouth shut until we were out of range.

I couldn't even think about Kole without my mind going crazy. Just the thought of him had me all conflicted, unsure, and yet so certain that there was no way we'd ever go beyond the friendship stage. I didn't want to, but now I had successfully put myself in the stage between friends and potential relationship.

I glanced over my shoulder at where they were about to turn the corner. As they did, I saw Kole glimpse our way, and upon seeing my eyes on him, waved.

Oops, there goes my heart.

...

At the ice cream parlor, we each got scoops of moose tracks, double chocolate fudge, and cookie dough in bowls and cones. We exited the back door of the shop where it connected to the wooden walkway on the edge of the pier. The sky was pure blue, and there wasn't a single cloud in sight all the way east to the lighthouse on the water.

"You know what I want to do?" Lizzie said, leaning against the railing that overlooked the port. "You see the path over there? Out to the lighthouse?"

We saw it. I remembered when Fynn and I would sit out in his backyard where the stairs descended the bluff, and we'd be able to see the lighthouse amid the mist from the lake. We used to walk that concrete path with Mrs. Walton and my mom.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"One day, I'm gonna jump off that into the water. There's a ladder facing the port where the waves aren't so high, I've checked," she explained, pointing down a ways to it.

"That'd be fun, when the water isn't so cold, I mean," Olivia said. "Let's do it."

"You know what I want to do?" I said, and they both looked at me until I declared, "I want to walk the entire length of the beach and back."

"Ooh, that'd be an adventure. And picnic out on one end—it'd be like a day trip," Lizzie said. "Let's do it. It'll be our summer bucket list."

"Then we gotta bike the whole bike path if we're makin' a bucket list. That's just a given," Olivia told us. "Oh! And we gotta make a synchronized swim dance or whatever—that's a given too."

"What? No it isn't! I'm not doin' that!"

"But you gotta! It'll be, like, a ritual to the bucket list gods."

Lizzie ended up taking out her flip phone and jotting the ideas down while we spurted them out, planning on recording each of them thoroughly through the summer. We even put my camera to use later that week, propping it up on a stack of books and making our introductions in my room. We had a schedule planned out, working around the up north trip Lizzie and her family were taking in July, and the vacation Olivia's family was taking a few weeks after.

And me? I wasn't going anywhere. We didn't vacation much anymore, and the closest I got was going on Facebook and seeing all the pictures from the trips friends were taking, namely the Waltons. All June they were in Rome, Italy, and Mrs. Walton was always posting incredible pictures of pasta from their meals, fantastic shots of the impeccable architecture, and the candid family photos of Parker with his goofy sunglasses on, and Fynn holding up peace signs in every single picture.

Around the time Lizzie was gone up north, I found myself sitting on the couch with Puck at my feet, scrolling through my Facebook messages. There were conversations featuring Joni and Landon, mainly about the production of the summer videos. Mom had mentioned purchasing a new computer, since the one we owned now was getting slow, and was constantly contracting viruses.

"Maybe an Apple computer would be nice," Lucas had suggested when Mom brought it up at the dinner table.

"Those things are so expensive. I'll just go to Best Buy or something and pick up a laptop," she told him.

"Apple? Don't they sell iPods?" I said, and Mom gave me a dull look that said, "Good luck getting one, honey."

Later that evening when I was on the computer, petting Puck with my foot, I discovered the existence of not only iPods and laptops, but also the wonders of fancy cameras and tripods. After researching for a while, I scurried upstairs uncovered my money stash from underneath my bed. I'd been saving up ever since my skateboard was smashed to pieces, but I was far past that goal.

This was for something bigger.

After speaking to Mom and Lucas about my future purchase, they agreed to pitch in to the cost of the new camera. It had a detachable lens, like Kole told me about, and a screen that flipped around, and a lens that could zoom in so far, I could take a picture from the bluff and it'd be like we were standing right next to the lighthouse.

The shopping spree took us to Best Buy where Lucas filled Mom in on the luxuries of Macs, even if in the future, they would change so much the one we bought would seem ancient. While they looked around for laptops, I stared at my reflection through the glass that separated me from my dream camera.

"Do you need help with anything, or just looking around?" a worker inquired from beside me. I moved away from the cameras a bit and asked him about the one on the far right. He picked it up and showed me all its features, and showed me how to work the lens until Lucas approached, inquiring about my choice.

"Look! The picture is so clear," I told him, snapping a picture of him and showing him the quality of it.

"That's great, Skye, but it's a bit out of your price range," he informed me, and I scowled as I looked at the camera, holding it up to him again.

"I'll pay you back, I promise," I asserted, only to get a droll stare from him, and I would get the exact same face from Mom too. However, it was far easier to reel her in with my puppy face, the one I learned from Puck when he wanted an extra treat.

And that was how I received my dream camera.

It'd been a long while since I heard anything from Fynn, but when he returned home from the vacation to Italy, he saw all the videos we'd been uploading and wrote to me saying, "Hey, what if I started up a channel?" and I typed back, "Go for it."

Up until that point, there was a lot I'd forgotten about him. I still remembered all the basic things, like his crooked bottom teeth, his sharp green eyes, and the incredible way he looked exactly like his brother at that age. However, the publication of his first video nearly blew me out of my chair.

I had to pause the video and run to the house phone to call Joni, and a few minutes later I kissed Puck on the head, and was on my way to her house to show her Fynn's video. The twenty minute journey felt like nothing, especially when at one moment I was cruising down the neighborhood hill, and the next I was climbing the incline up to Joni's house.

She was already outside waiting for me, and when she saw my bike on the horizon, she leapt up and waved. "Oh my God, what'd'ya mean he's making videos? I wanna see!" she shouted at me.

I laughed and took a deep breath of air. I couldn't talk straight—that was the fastest I'd ever biked before. "He's--where's your computer? You- you've gotta watch it."

We clamored inside and scurried to her mom's massive wooden desk. We squeezed into her comfy armchair while I turned on her computer and loaded up the video. "Oh my gawd why'd he get contacts? He got contacts!"

"I know! What a bozo—his glasses were so cool," I complained, but nonetheless played the video from the very beginning where his first few words were, "Hey, my name's Fynn and this is my first vlog ever."

I couldn't believe I thought he had an accent all those years ago. Now it was almost like he'd never lived in America, and he said weird words that Wisconsinites never used, like 'pop' for soda. Who used the word 'pop' anyway?

We sat in front of the computer screen for the whole four minutes he talked. I had a knee pulled up to my chest and a hand up to my ear, fiddling with the top curve of my lobe before the screen turned blank and Joni turned to look at me, the most brilliant smile on her lips as she punched me in the leg and exclaimed, "Holy hippos! You know what this means?"

"What?" I honestly didn't have a clue.

"We can make a segment on our channel like that, but we'd be talking to him and he'd answer back, ya know? Like a letter or something," she told me, jumping up out of her seat and throwing her hands into the air. "We'll be unstoppable!"

"It's not like we're taking over the world or anything," I commented. "Besides, I dunno if he'd be up to it. We don't talk much anymore—he just sorta got the idea from our videos and asked for my permission-"

"So what? It's worth a try, I mean, all we do are short films and adventures. This might be cool, ya know?" she explained as she exited YouTube and twirled away from the desk, her brunette curls spinning with her. "I'm so excited! You need to ask him right now or I swear on Puck's life-"

"Hey, I'm the only one who can swear on Puck's life, and I don't think now's the time," I interrupted, but reeled myself closer to the keyboard anyway and started clicking away on the mouse, already formulating a mental message for Fynn.

He was online.

Joni squealed with such vigor, I nearly cringed at the volume of it. I pulled up our previous messages and began the sequence of letter after letter, perusing and editing, before hitting SEND.

A few meager seconds later, he answered back with, "Sounds awesome! You bums start because I have next to no clue what I'm doing."

And so began our collection of videos connected together by a link in the description, and the title that read, "Dear Fynn", paired continuously with, "Dear Skye". When I looked into the camera, I was able to talk with him again, not just through messages or the infrequent calls all the way from England to Wisconsin paging Mom. It wasn't until I heard him address me specifically that it became clear how much time we'd lost since fifth grade, and how much we both had changed.

Our summer vlogs continued with not nearly as high of results as the messages between Fynn and I where his fame sparked. In the matter of just a summer, Fynn's gathered up his fame like poker chips on a table. It was the start of an internet sensation, especially in each of our schools, that only seemed to grow as eighth grade passed and high school began.

Granted, we weren't exactly the type of people who skyrocketed to fame with a million subscribers. For the most part, it was our schools that supported us and all our friends, which branched out from there and from there I could spy people from England on my demographics, and people from Wisconsin on Fynn's. Considering my first video with Joni and Landon was one of those "one hit wonders", we had followers that carried on from that video, and kept up with our progress.

Fynn made videos with his friends and his brother, who had started picking through colleges and universities to attend come the fall when I would be a sophomore. Fynn transformed abruptly through tenth and eleventh grade, and while our videos remained relatively constant with one another, they started to divide. While we spoke with one another through them, it was a faint background to the content, like a casual introduction mentioning his name before moving on to the topic at hand.

We were drifting again, and neither of us seemed to care. We were practically on two ends of the world—it wasn't like our lives would cross paths anymore, and it was pointless trying to join them again. The videos were a nice effort, but like everything else, the attention was only temporary