So I added my hand on top. Ming and Jasmine followed.
Shay started the hand bounce, letting everyone’s hands drop a couple of inches before lifting them. But this was no ordinary“3-2-1, go team” chant. Because they didn’t just stand there, hands moving. Their feet started galloping in place like horses.
Then Shay screamed and everyone followed, “Seddledowne Stallions, Seddledowne Stallions, if we should win, we fought with passion. Seddledowne Stallions, Seddledowne Stallions, if we should lose, we go down smashin’. Give it our all, leave it on the floor. Seddledowne Stallions, win or lose, we’re masters of our fate and we get to choose!” And then they legit neighed like a pack of wild, angry horses. I didn’t know whether to laugh or hug them.
But I knew one thing, real coach or not, if they played as well as they made up chants, they were going to kick the Honeyville Eagles’ butts.
five
HOLDEN
My gut hadn’t settled since Friday when I’d gotten that stupid text from Sipsby. And this volleyball game wasn’t helping. If I kept this up, I’d have an ulcer by age thirty. We were five minutes into the first set and the score was already Eagles 14, Seddledowne 3. Christy was giving it her best shot, but I was pretty sure she didn’t know anything about volleyball.
Next to me, Dad squirmed and shook his head. Mom sat on his other side, stiffly. “Christy shouldn’t be coaching,” he grumbled. “Does she even know what she’s doing?” He was just being protective of Anna and her love of this sport, but it wasn’t Christy’s fault they were losing.
“Dad. The JV coach quit. You know that. Anna told you. I’m fairly certain this is not Christy’s idea of a good time.”
I leaned to my other side, to Gideon Alvarez, who’d planted himself next to me before the game even started. “Man, these positions are all wrong.” He had graduated three years before Silas, Sophie, and Lemon, but we were both UVA alum, so we always spoke when we saw each other. “Anna should be playing middle. And number eleven…she should be the libero.” A serve from the Eagles landed right between the center and left-back players with zero effort to stop it. They both looked dumbfounded, like “I thought you were going to get that.” I groaned and flung my hands up. “They’re not talking to each other.” I was no volleyball expert, but my minor was in physical education and we’d had to do mock coaching of all major high school sports. I knew enough.
Alvarez shouldn’t have been over here by me. He should’ve been sitting next to Christy, helping her.
He didn’t even comment on my comment. Just grunted. And then said, “Man, ain’t our new principal smokin’?” He flicked his wrist like he’d been burned. Alvarez had a strange accent. Half Black, half country, like he couldn’t figure out his own angle. A surge of protective jealousy roared through me and I stamped it out.Christy and I are not a thing,I reminded myself.Alvarez can check her out if he wants.But then he sucked his teeth. “Imma try to get with that.”
I cleared my throat and laced my fingers in my lap, to keep from punching him in the side of the head. “Pretty sure that’ll get you fired.” There was no way abstaining from fraternizing with other faculty wasn’t in their contract.
Another serve landed in the “campfire” behind our front-row girls. Mom put her head in her hands and Dad blew out his breath, annoyed. A guy in the front row stood up and yelled at his daughter, whose face burst into flame. Anna’s shoulders slumped and Christy kept rubbing the back of her neck, looking helpless. I couldn’t take it anymore. I slid my phone out of my jeans pocket, praying Christy had her phone on her.
Me: Don’t hate me. Just trying to help. Anna should be middle. She’s the tallest and has a strong jump. Number eleven should be libero. And the girl playing outside hitter might do better as opposite. Just a thought.
My thumb hovered above send. She might take this the wrong way—like I was mansplaining the game. But after another point scored for the Eagles, I went for it.
Nosey Alvarez must’ve been reading over my shoulder because his eyes moved from my lap to Christy, across the court.
I rubbed my jaw, willing her to feel the buzz of the phone that was hopefully in her pocket or somewhere nearby. She jerked a little and I was pretty sure her phone was on her person. Maybe in that jacket pocket. But like a good coach, she was ignoring it.
Me: Hey.
Again she twitched but left it.
Me: Christy?
Alvarez leered back and forth. “You know uh?” he asked. Uh, meaning her.
I nodded and chose my words carefully. The last thing Silas, Lemon, or Christy needed was for people to know there was a history there. “She and Silas were in the same master’s program. He kind of introduced us. So yeah, we’re friends.”
I let myself quickly glance over to gauge his reaction.
He said nothing, hopefully rethinking his earlier comments about Christy’s hotness.
Christy still wasn’t checking her phone. After yet another point, I hissed under my breath,call a timeout.
My telepathy game must’ve been strong because her hands flew up in a T. The ref blew the whistle. I hit call on her name just long enough for her to feel the long buzz of the phone. As the girls gathered around her, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, looked at the screen, and then across at me.
I pointed to my phone, and she nodded. Her eyes dropped, desperately scanning my words. She shoved her phone back in her pocket, rolled her shoulders back, and started barking orders. When those girls walked back onto the floor, every suggestion I’d made had been implemented. I exhaled, hoping they would work.
Christy dropped back into the chair, looking worn out, and picked up her phone.
Ten seconds later, mine buzzed.
