“Hey, Darcy.” I smiled. “Treat my girl right, okay?”
“And who is your girl?” Darcy asked, holding out his hand politely to Bossy.
“Berkley,” she introduced herself. “But my friends call me Bossy.”
Apollo, some of the Dixie Wardens, Weaver and I had discussed whether or not we should allow her to go by the nickname Bossy, and we’d decided that it was okay. Mostly because the only people who had called her Bossy were Weaver and Bossy’s grandparents.
They’d never addressed her as such outside of their own household, either, because Bossy had never liked the nickname because it made her “look bad.”
According to her father, at around age nine, she’d said, ‘No one likes to be known as a bossy person.’
From that moment on they’d made a conscious effort to make sure they didn’t address her as that to anyone but each other.
Now, Bossy had grown into the nickname, and it would keep the confusion down when they addressed her.
She always answered to Bossy.
“Bossy.” Darcy smiled. “I like it.”
Bossy’s cheeks flushed as she shot me a small wave and disappeared into the crowded hall with Darcy.
“Oh, that one is going to be a little killer to all the boys,” Leeanndra said.
“Agreed.” I nodded and turned to the group. “How is everything going? Anything I need to be aware of?”
“Your history sub actually knew her shit and didn’t deviate too far from the lesson plan,” Ryan said.
“And your team is doing great under the tutelage of your sister,” Newsome said. “However, your history sub had no clue about soccer, so she’s really glad you’re back to take that over. Your girls have been working hard, and hopefully won’t have any issues seeing as you have your first game back tomorrow night.”
I patted my thigh. “We’ll work out all the kinks. Thanks for taking care of everything. I know it couldn’t have been easy with all that went on.”
Meaning, they’d covered for me and watched my ass with the school board and the parents when it was learned that my father was a freakin’ creep.
The only thing that’d saved me beyond anything else was my distance from my family. I’d had nothing to do with them and had made no bones about my distaste for my father and his church.
I’d learned of the school board meeting only after it’d already happened. Some of the parents had been bound and determined that I was fired. But the soccer girls as well as all their parents, and the parents of my regular history students, had come out in full force and defended me and my character.
My father’s sins would not be my own.
They’d made sure of it.
Meanwhile, I’d been convalescing at home, and not paying a bit of attention to everything going on outside of that home.
The Dixie Wardens, and my man, had known, though.
They’d defended me as well, making sure that I wouldn’t lose the job that I loved so much.
It was only last week when I’d announced that I would be back before the start of soccer season that I’d learned of it all from Weaver.
I’d been dismayed to hear that some people wanted me out, but I’d been overjoyed to hear that many, many more had defended me.
“We got your back, doll,” Newsome said as he touched the top of my head. “Now, what do those scars look like?”
A coach’s job doesn’t finish at three when school lets out. It only just begins.
That was why, an hour after school had let out, I was on the soccer pitch staring at the group of girls in front of me.
“All right,” I said. “Team captains are no surprise. Tamara and Mia, come on up.”
