Anna Sun

Chapter Two.

THE SUMMER BEFORE.

"Brooks, watch out!" I exclaim as the baseball I hit inches closer to him. As a reflex, he holds his hand out to catch it. "Good things you aren't going pro anytime soon," he chuckles at my failed attempt to hit it to Delaney. Awkwardly, I brush my hair behind my ears. "Sorry about that," I catch his toss. "Maybe I'll have to teach you a thing or two since Noah's coaching skills clearly aren't helping," he never ceases to take a jab at my brother. My lips instantly curl into a smile. He always knew how to make me smile. Suddenly, he blurts out a question. "Have you ever heard the song Anna Sun? Well, that's what you remind me of. It's a given since your name is in the title, but to me, there's more to it," his bright eyes and wide smile beams at me. Little did I know, he didn't actually have any interest in knowing if I had heard it, but instead, he was telling me to listen to it. He was telling me to feel it.

And ever since that day, I did. At one point, I think my heartbeat was in sync with the beat. That's how much I listened to it. Anna Sun was who I was. It is who I am. And though I always thought I was comparable to sunshine in the form of music, I know that my favorite person also believed it, too. It seemed as if my childhood dream was finally coming true.

I sound so incredibly stupid. But at the end of the day, I'm a teenage girl who believes in happily ever afters. I believe in miracles and magical love stories. I believe in soulmates and eternal friendships that are so fulfilling that nothing else in life matters. I still make a wish whenever I pick a fully-grown dandelion. I find happiness in chasing sunsets, sunrises, and constellations. No matter how ridiculous these aspects of my life seem, to me, they're all justified pieces of the puzzle that complete me.

There's a worry that lingers in my mind quite often. More often than I'd like. It's the worry that without Brooks, I'm not me. Now to an extent, this is true. Brooks has helped shape me into who I am today. Not because I rely on him, but solely because he is in most of my core memories. Despite not being close for some time, he somehow managed to always find his way into the important parts of my life. For instance, the time I learned how to ride a bike.

He was there.

It was Noah, Brooks, and me. Noah and I went over to Brooks' house where we were supposed to hangout with his older brother, Trevor. I admitted how I hadn't fully learned how to ride a bike. Of course, the boys began to tease me, but that only motivated me to learn more. I've done it a few times, but never for long distances. That day, though, I learned how to ride a bike pretty damn good.

"Put on this helmet. Just in case," Brooks urged me. He took "safety first" to a whole different level. "Thanks," I gave him a slight smile and flipped the kick-stand up. I didn't exactly know what I was doing, but I knew I'd figured it out. I always did. I began to pedal down the Kowal's gravel driveway, fighting to keep my balance. "You're doing great! Look at you go!" he shrieked from behind me. I didn't even try to fight my smile in that moment. Before I knew it, I was riding a bike by myself. I was steady and confident, all thanks to the encouragement from him.

Brooks never made me feel embarrassed. I learned to ride a bike pretty late in life. I mean, to me, 9 years old was late. My cousins were riding bikes at 6, and my brother at 5. Not like I would remember, but he bragged about it so much that I could never forget. Even when I felt ordinary, Brooks Kowal always assured me that I wasn't. My brother wasn't a fan, but in moments like those, he didn't matter.

Even at the ripe age of 9, I knew that he was one of the few things that would always truly matter to me.

I mean, I would die for that boy. I always knew it, too. One time, we were at a wiffle ball tournament held at our local baseball field. It was an annual summer event that every kid went to. To us 10-year-olds, it was as big of an event as the Little League World Series is to teenage boys. Brooks' rival at the time, Nick Goodman, was pitching for the opposing team. I remember when he took a cheap shot at Brooks, hitting him in the head. Although he wasn't hurt and didn't seem to mind, I did. I will never forget the way I stormed out of the dugout. The money I would pay to see it all again—4-foot-2 me with pigtails and hot pink sunglasses on. I stomped up to the mound and said what were very insulting things for a little kid to say. I probably used the word "jerk" over a dozen times just to get my point across. Nevertheless, Brooks appreciated it and Nick never bothered him again.

He didn't need protected. That's not who he was. But I have always cared about him so much. I was willing to face the wrath of a prepubescent male who was at least a foot taller than me just because I didn't like one thing he did to Brooks. I mean, I definitely was crazy. Crazy to do it, but even more crazy for Brooks.

I guess some things never change.

I have always been crazy for a boy who has always been just a friend. Even though he was more my brothers friend than mine, I always acted like he was mine first. Because to me, he would always be mine. I had this feeling early on that we would always be each other's #1, even though it had yet to happen. But I could feel it. I believed in it in the same way I believed in happily ever afters and wishes coming true from blowing on a plant.

And I still do.

———