Chapter 5 #2
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.
“Hey.” I ducked down, looking my niece right in the eye, speaking a hundred miles an hour. We had sixty seconds to fix all her world’s problems. “What’s going on? You look like someone just peed in your cereal.”
She scrunched her adorable nose and let out a breathy laugh. “Ewww. Thank you for the visual.” But her eyes flitted for a split second, back to that group of guys. Her hands were trembling.
I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are those boys making you nervous? Look, you can’t let a bunch of jerk guys get under your—”
“They’re not j-jerks.” Her breath hitched and her cheeks heated.
“Ahhh. Gotcha.” I chuckled, causing her cheeks to go from light pink to tomato red. I squeezed her shoulders. “You can’t think about that right now.”
She put a hand over her eyes and turned slightly to shield her face.
“It’s this one guy. Blue Bishop. The one in the gray shirt.
He’s the JV quarterback. I watched a bunch of his highlight reels this weekend.
” She looked dead ashamed to admit that.
“He’s like—sheesh—so good. But he’s a real athlete.
And I’m just…” Her eyes lifted, but they were full of doubt. “I’m just a wannabe.”
I shook her slightly. “Don’t ever call yourself a wannabe again. Your mom would be so upset if she heard you talk about yourself like that.”
Her eyes lifted and she stood a little taller. “You’re right.”
“This Blue kid is only good because somebody told him he was and he chose to believe it. If he thought he was crap, he’d be crap.
” Had we not told her enough how amazing she was?
It killed me to think that might be true.
“You’re a freaking Goddess, Anna. Do you hear me?
And that guy is looking at you right now like he’d step off a cliff if you asked him to. ”
“Really?” She crinkled her nose but I could almost see the weight fall off her shoulders and crash like busted concrete onto the floor.
“Yes.” My eyes widened. “Really. And you better hope Silas doesn’t find out.”
She tipped her head back and laughed.
I looked up at the time clock. Fifteen seconds. “We can talk about this Blue kid more later.” And we would. “But right now you have five seconds to come up with a mantra you’re going to repeat every time you serve the ball. And five more to believe it.”
We stared at each other for three seconds and then it came to me.
At the same time, we blurted, “All to pieces.” It was one of our Dupree family mottos.
It meant to do it completely and without reservation.
In volleyball speak it was the equivalent of leaving it all on the court.
Her mom had said it to her, probably daily.
The buzzer sounded.
I raised my brows, locking eyes with Anna. “You say that in your head when you’re dribbling before your serve. You got me? And you don’t think about him again until you’re done serving.”
The ref blew a whistle, warning us.
Determination stole across her face. “Yes, sir.” She saluted with a laugh.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and left her on the court.
The ref blew the whistle again and Anna dribbled the ball three times.
All. To. Pieces. One word for each dribble.
She twirled the ball up, her left toe tapping against the court behind her.
Then she tossed it up high. Christy’s hand shot out, squeezing my knee.
Heat exploded up my thigh and I almost forgot what we were doing.
My breaths became staggered and my adrenaline surged.
When the ball came back down, Anna reared back and smacked the living daylights out of it.
A perfect serve if I’d ever seen one. The ball shot across the court, skimmed three inches above the net, and dropped just this side of the Eagle’s serving line.
It was so powerful and fast that the libero dove but missed it by a foot.
The ball smacked against the ground and flew up behind her, hitting the back wall of the gym.
I did come up out of my seat this time, screaming, “Woo-hoo!” So did Christy.
The entire bench was up. They broke into a chant.
“A-C-E, whaaat? A-C-E, whaaat?” As their arms danced in a large circle motion.
Then normally expressionless Brooklyn whipped a hand towel over her head like a propeller and screamed, “That’s my bestie! ”
But Anna wasn’t looking at any of us. No, her eyes were trained on this Blue kid who was offering doublehanded high fives to every teammate in his vicinity, grinning proudly like she was already his.
And she was luminous.
Not even a full week into her high school career and we were already in trouble.
Because I knew the look Blue Bishop was wearing all too well.
Euphoric, honed in, and half-drunk. This was no crush, passing fancy, or lustfest. It was the expression of someone who’d had an intense love-at-first-sight moment.
I would know. I’d worn the same look when I’d walked these halls.
I shook my head, feeling for the kid. Falling for a girl who was barely a freshman? You may as well throw your hands up recklessly daring Fate to bring it on. There were so many obstacles in the way.
Blue Bishop was magic for Anna. She served six times in a row after that, scoring two more aces. Until her seventh serve, which was so powerful it landed on the outside of the opposing team’s serve line. Magic indeed.
We won the second set 25-17. The Eagles were losing their confidence. We were going to win this. I was riding a high, feeling lucky for having been here when Christy needed help. And for Anna’s new killer serve. Everything was great. Fantastic.
Until the devil walked in.
Amber “Diabolical” Taylor.
The sole reason I hated going into public in Seddledowne.
My chest tightened and my hands curled into fists. I forced myself to take normal breaths. The last thing I needed was for Christy to notice the panic attack I was about to have. Why had I let my parents talk me into coming? I was so stupid to think this was safe.
I sat on the edge of my seat, head tucked, ready to bolt the second the game was over.
I semi-focused on the last set but my eyes kept drifting, trying to see if she’d spotted me.
Seddledowne left it all on the court. When the last serve was tossed on the third set and we’d finally won the game, I exhaled.
“Good work, Coach Dupree.” Christy held out her hand for a shake.
I hesitated, knowing what any kind of contact was going to do to my insides.
I’d let her touch me once before and I’d been regretting it ever since.
But how can you not shake someone’s hand after you’ve been in the trenches together?
So I slid my palm against hers and squeezed, hating her a little for the tug it put in my gut.
Her eyes were hopeful. “Any chance you can hang around for the varsity game?”
I glimpsed back at Amber. But she was standing there, eyes narrowed, practically licking her lips, fangs bared. I torpedoed a glare right back but it was all show. In actuality, my neck caught fire and I felt a little dizzy. A grown man wigging out at the sight of his childhood plague.
I wanted to stay, desperately. Wanted to help Christy and these girls win.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t have a choice.
I turned my back to the stands and gave Christy a sad smile.
“I can’t. I’m really sorry, I promised Silas I’d help him finish his bathrooms at the gym.
Varsity should go a lot smoother.” It was a lie.
I’d promised Silas no such thing. He hadn’t even asked.
In fact, last minute, he’d called a plumber who was there right now.
Christy’s face fell and her cheeks flushed again. “Okay. Well. Thanks for the help.” Her words were gracious but her expression was skeptical. But I wasn’t going to stand there chatting her up, putting a target on her back by association. I had to go.
Now.
“Hey.” Christy stepped closer and put a hand on my arm. “Is everything okay?”
But her hand was like fire now that Amber was watching.
I knocked it off, turned, and jogged from the room. And I didn’t exhale until I was outside, in my car, pulling onto the road. I jammed a finger between my neck and the collar of my shirt, trying to get some air.
Every time I came back home, I got my hopes up. This time worse than before with Jedd shoving the D.A. job my way. I’d hoped more than ever that maybe it was time. Maybe I could finally come home for good. I played it off like I was a city boy now. Like I’d outgrown this place.
In truth, Seddledowne was the only place I’d ever wanted to be.
But Amber Taylor was always right there to make sure I knew I could never come back.