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Taeli rounds up the children and has them sit on a blanket by the sandbox. Erin ties the blindfold over her eyes and begins swinging until she makes contact with the cardboard. She continues until it’s punctured, and a tiny hole releases a few pieces of wrapped chocolates, much to the toddlers’ delight.
Erin removes the strip of cloth from her eyes and passes it and the wooden stick to me. “Finish it off,” she instructs.
I fit the fabric over my eyes and start swinging. I know I’ve made contact, but I can tell by the nonresponse of the crowd that it didn’t do much damage. So, I begin flailing the bat wildly, landing repeated blows. The kids start cheering, so I wind up and put all my strength behind the next swing.
Whack.
The momentum of my strike met something solid, and a deep, loud cry of pain rings out.
“Shit!”
Oh no.
I rip the blindfold off just as the herd of excited kids comes running. The broken piñata is raining candy all over the grass, and sitting in the middle of it all is Weston, clutching a stack of paper bags with one hand and covering his right eye with the other.
Erin is by his side in a flash. “Weston, are you okay? Let me see,” she asks as she pries his hand away.
I release the stick and drop to my knees beside them.
“I’m fine. Just seeing stars for a minute there.”
I watch in horror as an angry-looking lump rises on his forehead. “I’m so sorry,” I cry.
He blinks his eye open, and I can see the tiny red veins forming.
“I’m the one who walked into the batting cage. That’s quite a swing you have,” he says.
Erin smacks him on the shoulder. “She could have knocked your head off, dumbass.”
“Hey, hurt man here,” he gripes.
“And little ears everywhere,” Taeli whispers.
Erin huffs as she stands. “I think you’ll live.”
She extends a hand and helps pull him to his feet.
“We should get some ice on that,” I say as I get to my feet.
“Can you guys watch the kids for a minute?” I ask Erin and Taeli.
“Sure. Go take care of the big kid,” Erin replies.
“Here, Mom sent me to give you guys these for gathering their candy,” he says, handing her the bags.
She takes them from him, and the two of us walk to the office.
Weston
“Here, hold this for a minute.”
Anna led me to the office and sat me down. Then, she went to the break room and returned with a ziplock bag, filled with crushed ice.
I reach up, and our hands brush against each other as mine replaces hers that is holding the frosty contraption to my eye.
Mom returns from the restroom with a first aid kit. “Okay, let me see,” she says.
I lower the bag and blink up at her.
