“Holden Dupree?” The girl Christy had moved to libero snapped her fingers, eying me. “You played baseball with my uncle back in the day. He talks about you all the time. Says you should’ve played college ball, but you gave it up for law school?”
My eyes narrowed, trying to figure out which of my high school teammates she looked like. Then it hit me. “You’re Colby Jones’s niece?” The button nose was a clone of his.
She beamed. “Yeah.” She pointed to her uncle in the stands. Dude was wearing a GoPro on his hat, filming her. He had glasses now. No wonder I hadn’t recognized him. Maybe I could get a replay of Anna’s kill to show Silas and Lemon. He tossed his chin up at me and I grinned back. I’d have to say hello after the game.
“Holden is the reason we had a little comeback. It was his idea to move some of you around.” Christy smiled at me, eyes sparkling. I bit the insides of my cheeks, not to smile at that. Most of her worry from a few minutes earlier was gone. “Words of encouragement before the second set starts?” she asked.
Every girl’s gaze turned to me.
Okay. Yeah.
I rubbed my hands together. “Look. You guys have talent. A lot of it.” They probably felt like a ragtag group of orphans with no permanent coach. They needed someone who believed in them. “But talent means nothing if you don’t move toward the ball. Some of you look like your feet are stuck in concrete.” Brooklyn giggled and pointed to herself. She wasn’t the only one. “Your parents haven’t spent a lot of money and time on you—and you haven’t worked your butts off—only to flop during a game because you’re too afraid to move.”
“That set is over. Leave it in the past. Time to move on. The great thing about volleyball is you get a second chance.” I heard a few girls say “yeah” and “facts.” “All the anxiety and frustration you feel during a test, at home, or practice? It comes out on this floor every time you touch that ball. Got it?”
I snapped. “Oh and one more thing. For the love…” I balled my fists. “Call the ball. Every single one of them. There should be an insane amount of yelling and talking to each other during this set. Stop caring about looking dumb or what your friends in the stands are thinking. You’re a team. Take care of each other.” I couldn’t stress that enough. “And for every time you don’t call the ball when it comes to you, Coach Thornbury’s going to make you run a lap in practice tomorrow.” I looked at Christy to make sure that was okay. She nodded. The buzzer sounded. “No more nice girls. You hear me? Beast mode.” I pointed to the ground. “Starting now.”
The setter laid her hand out, and everyone piled theirs on top. I laid mine on Christy’s and looked over to catch her watching me, eyes flickering like a smoldering match in a dark night. I really needed her to not look at me like that.
“Beast mode, on three!” The setter yelled.
Once the girls were back on the court, I sat next to Christy on “the bench.”
“Thank you,” she said, eyes on her team. “You saved me.”
“I don’t know about that. Don’t count your chickens…but…I’m happy to help.”
I pulled up the notes app on my phone and entitled a new page: Laps. Whenever a girl failed to call the ball, I shouted their name and the number of laps they were running. Mean? Maybe. But after five minutes, every single ball was being called.
I forced myself to sit back in my chair, settle in, and look relaxed. But it was all an act. Between the game and my body’s sonar going off every time Christy twitched, I was a mess inside.
I did not like the effect she had on me.
The girls struggled to get their feet moving for the first few minutes of play. But after an impressive volley that we won, things seemed to snap into place. Pretty soon, we were up 13-10. Everything was okay.
And then the football team rolled in through the locker room doors, fresh off the field from practice. From the number and varying sizes, it looked like JV and varsity had come to support the Lady Stallions. Which would have been good if the air in the room didn’t turn a little chilly at their arrival.
I studied the girls’ faces and shook my head, not liking what I was seeing. Where there had been confidence and a love of the game a moment before, now there was a mix of dread and insecurity. Anna had told me JV hadn’t won a single game last year. Whereas our football program was one of the best in the state. I could almost read these girls’ minds. We could’ve dubbed the gym Intimidation Station right then.
In particular, my niece looked like she’d just fallen into the deep end of a pool with her hands and feet bound. Her eyes doubled in size, and she looked like she was struggling to breathe. What on earth? I scowled, trying to pull her gaze to mine. But her eyes were on the ground in front of her.
And it was her turn to serve.
She’d served once in the first set. Her serves tended to be short, but that was okay, as long as they went over. She’d scored two points, catching the Eagles by surprise, when her ball barely skimmed the top of the net, dropping narrowly onto their side. On the third try it had gone into the net. I knew how anxious serving made her. She’d worked all summer just to get the ball over. The last thing she needed was any reason to doubt herself.
She dribbled the ball double-handed, five feet behind the line, but I did not like the discomfort on her face right then, the already-defeated way she was standing. It was going into the net if she was lucky to even get it that far.
My knee bounced. “Call a time out.” I hoped Christy would forgive my bossiness.
Without hesitation, her hands formed a T, and the ref blew the whistle.
I watched Anna, hawk-like, trying to figure her out. Her eyes flicked to a group of three boys in the top left corner of the gym. Two were on their phones, AirPods in their ears. But the third one—a big, buff kid, with guns like logs—was leaning cooly against the cinderblock wall, eyes trained on my niece with an inquisitive, lovesick stare.
Oh, man.
I mean, I couldn’t blame him. He had impeccable taste. Not only was Anna too pretty for her own good, but she was witty, brilliant, and kind to her core. The question was, did she like him back? Or did she wish he’d disappear in a cloud of vapor? Either way, he couldn’t have shown up at a less opportune time.
I glanced at Christy, who was watching me. I swear she could read my mind because when I grabbed Anna by the elbow, pulling her off to the side, Christy nodded and motioned for everyone else to surround her.
