Chapter 4 #2
“Maybe so,” I tell him. “But there are no boys currently practicing.” I arch an eyebrow authoritatively, which results in every guy running out onto the court.
There’s some squabbling when they take the balls from the girls, but the girls are problem solvers.
They simply go to the rack and get more.
At four o’clock sharp, I blow the whistle hanging from the rope around my neck. “Everybody over here!” I wait for all the players to form a semi-circle around me.
Leah is the first to arrive and she’s all smiles. “I brought my friends, Coach.”
“I can see that. Who do we have?” I ask her.
She points down the row of girls and gives me their names. To which I respond, “It might take a few practices for me to remember those of you I don’t have in my gym class, so bear with me.”
“I think you have us all,” a short blonde steps forward to say.
“Madeline, right?” I ask. When she nods her head, I add, “I think you’re right, but I still don’t know everyone’s name yet. Chances are though, I’ll remember all of yours.”
“Because you’re going to be our coach?” Leah asks.
Shaking my head, I tell her, “I’ll remember you because you’re hungry to play and that’s something I respect.” I take a moment to glare at the boys.
I’ve never coached girls’ basketball, and I’m suddenly wondering why that is. If given a choice between training these young ladies and my current team, I would take the girls, hands down. They want to be here, which is something I haven’t witnessed with the guys yet.
I divide the kids into two groups, making sure to mix the sexes in both.
Then I send each group off to a basket at opposite ends of the gym.
Pointing to the first team, I tell them, “I want to see free throws. Rebound your own balls then pass them onto the next player in line.” Pointing to the other basket, I instruct, “You’re on layups.
We’ll shoot for ten minutes and then we’ll officially warm up once the rest of the boys arrive.
” Four of the guys aren’t even here. I don’t tolerate late players, which apparently isn’t something I have conveyed strongly enough.
At four fifteen, we’re still four guys down, so I point to Decan and tell him, “Lead everyone in warmups. I’ve got a call to make.”
Jogging out of the gym, I take my phone out of my pocket. I wait for three rings before Lorelai answers, “Where’s my sweater, jerk?”
“Hello to you, too,” I say before adding, “I believe Allie sent it out today. I’m sure you’ll have it soon.”
“I shouldn’t have had to ask her,” she grumbles.
“I’m sorry, Lor,” I tell her, hoping to diffuse her irritation with me. “I should have sent it sooner, but it’s been hectic getting used to a new job.”
Her mood suddenly shifts. “I can’t believe you’re working at Elk Lake High. Is it weird?”
“Very,” I assure her. “Hardly anything has changed since we went to school here. The principal is even the same.”
“Mr. Cooke? I thought he was old back then. He must be positively decrepit now.”
“He’s probably sixty,” I tell her. “Anyone over forty is ancient to a teenager.”
“I guess. So why are you calling if not to brag that you finally got off your butt to send my sweater? You didn’t burn the house down, did you?”
Rolling my eyes, I tell her, “Very funny. I’m calling because I need Allie’s phone number.”
That gets her attention. So much so that she’s quiet for an unprecedented beat before asking, “Why do you want her number? Do you like her?” she teases. “Also, how do you even know she got my sweater?”
“I was home when she came to pick it up,” I tell her. “As to your other question, how can I like her when I don’t even know her?”
“But you like what you see, right? That’s why you want to call her.” She sounds as excited as a schoolgirl with fresh tea to spill.
“Are you twelve?” I ask. “I remembered that Allie played basketball in high school and the girls at Elk Lake High want a team.”
“They don’t have one anymore?” she demands. “Why?”
“They claim they don’t have money for it.” I hurry to explain, “But we have an English teacher leaving and it would be great if the new teacher could also coach the girls. If Allie is interested, she might want to apply. That is, if she doesn’t already have a good job.”
“She works the counter at Rosemary’s,” my sister tells me.
“Why?” I ask. “I mean, she’s got a college degree, doesn’t she?”
“She does.” Lorelai hems and haws for a moment before saying, “She went through a rough divorce. She came home to heal and wanted to do something to get out of the house.”
“What did she used to do?” I ask.
“She was an editor at a publishing house.”
“Interesting,” I say. “So, she must love English.”
“It was her major,” Lorelai confirms.
It seems fortuitous that I happened to be home when Allie stopped by today. “Can I have her number?”
“For a job?” My sister sounds disappointed.
“Lorelai.” Even though my tone is stern, I can’t help but wonder if Allie might want to hang out sometime.
It might be nice to have someone to grab a bite to eat with occasionally.
And who knows, if that goes well, maybe I’d even ask her out on a real date.
It’s not like my options for a social life are that great in Elk Lake.