“Wait.” I held up a finger and walked behind my desk to grab the box I’d spent way too much time wrapping ever so carefully yesterday afternoon. I was proud of that flower-bow. It had taken three tries. And I’d shed a tear or two while I was making it. You know, like you do when you’re wrapping a wedding gift for the man you thought you’d be marrying.
Most people would say the best gift you could give an ex is your absence. But obviously, that wasn’t an option. And since we were going to work in close proximity, daily, I needed to do this. It was my metaphorical burning of the ex-boyfriend’s things and a peace treaty, all rolled into one.
And yes, it killed me to hand it to him, but I did it anyway, determined to move past this.
He eyed it like it might grow fangs at any second.
“It’s a wedding gift.” I gulped. “For you and Lemon.”
More silent gaping.
I held my hands up. “Don’t worry. It’s not a glitter bomb or a defecated litter box with your name on the side or anything.”
He shook his head and laughed.
I tugged on the hem of my blouse. “It’s something off your registry.” An expensive enamelwear dutch oventhat I would’ve liked to own. It had cost a pretty penny, but I’d gotten a signing bonus as principal and thought it only fitting since I never would’ve heard of Seddledowne if it weren’t for Silas.
More staring. And uncomfortable silence.
“Gah.” My hands pressed to my cheeks. “You’re reading too much into it. Just…congrats…good luck. All of that.”
His eyes turned down, a hint of sadness there. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I held up my hands. “I know, and I didn’t do it for a thank-you. I’m not trying to get anything out of you. I just thought since we’re going to be working together, living in the same small town…” I clenched my fists. “I know I’ve invaded your turf here. Put us both in an uncomfortable situation…it only seemed right. And I do hope that you’ll have a happy life together.” I almost meant that last line. I would get there. Eventually.
He was quiet for a second and then he said, barely above a whisper, “Well. That was nice of you. I’m sure Clem will love it, whatever it is. Thanks.” He made no move to leave, like maybe since I’d given him a present, I expected him to hang around and do our nails together, talk about cute boys and all that.
“You’re welcome.” I nodded. “You can stop standing there, making it awkward.” I laughed. He laughed. “Just take your gift and go.” My stupid, shaky voice betrayed me.
But he nodded and finally walked away.
I shut the door behind him and fell against it, my hands trembling. One day down. One hundred and seventy-six to go.
I quickly changed from my pantsuit into a pair of black leggings, a blue fitted T-shirt—that was the closest thing to school colors that I owned—and the white and royal blue Seddledowne Stallions athletic jacket Mr. Alvarez had eagerly let me borrow from the athletics closet. Being at the game wasjust a formality. I wouldn’t be coaching on my own today. Didn’t know enough yet to lead in any way. Coach Byrd had promised he’d be right there, showing me the ropes, calling all the shots. But he didn’t expect me to head anything up at this point. Had I spent my weekend watching match after match of college volleyball? Absolutely. But one weekend of watching videos does not a coach make.
When I entered the gym, the scorekeeper’s table was set up. The girls had raised the net and the JV team was practicing their serves. The varsity girls were spread out on the bleachers, braiding hair and working on homework assignments. I scanned the room for Coach Byrd but he was nowhere.
I walked over to Anna and Brooklyn, both with Dutch braids, laughing as they hit a ball back and forth. “Have you guys seen Coach Byrd?”
“He’s sick. He’s not coming.” Brooklyn shrugged as if this was the most boring thing she’d learned today.
I swallowed. Um. “What? Are you serious?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sure enough, he’d texted three whole minutes ago, letting me know. I stifled a groan.
Anna grimaced, looking as sick as I felt. “I think he ate the creamed spinach from the cafeteria.” She shivered.
My mouth parted. I rubbed the back of my neck, my eyes darting around as if they might land on a solution. The varsity team.
“Okay. Thanks,” I said, before walking across the gym to the girls I hoped would be my saviors.
As I approached, they gradually looked up, one by one.
I chewed the inside of my cheek for a second. “Who are the captains for varsity?”
A pretty Asian-American and a towhead blonde hesitantly raised their hands. I rolled my shoulders back. “All right ladies, you’re my assistants for the JV game.”
Just then, one of the outside doors opened and theopposing team began filing in. The scoreboard timer was counting down. Sixteen minutes to liftoff. Awesome. My head rolled in the opposite direction when I heard parents coming through the other doors. My stomach tightened. This was getting real. And fast.
The captains looked at each other, wide-eyed, put their books away, and filed down the bleachers.
