Chapter 28
Izzy
I jog off to the bench on the side of the court, grabbing my water bottle and taking a big gulp. We’re between sets, so I
shouldn’t tear my focus away from the match, but I can’t help but look for my family in the stands. My volleyball matches
don’t draw the same kind of crowd that you see at McKee hockey or football, so it’s easy to spot them right at the end of
one of the higher rows. Mom’s wearing a cashmere turtleneck, and Dad a collared shirt. Sebastian has on an atrocious geometric
sweater that I’m sure Mia hates.
After my match is over, we’re going straight to the hockey game. They’re playing UMass Amherst—a traditional pre-Thanksgiving
rivalry game—which means more to Nikolai than the rest of the team combined. He wouldn’t admit it to me during this morning’s
run, but I’m sure he’s nervous.
One more set to get through first. After, we’ll either have a winning record again, or slip back in the standings.
“Let’s huddle up, ladies,” Coach Alexis says.
I give my parents another quick look before joining the huddle. Dad’s sitting with his elbows balanced on his knees, fingers
steepled in front of him as he takes in the scene. I’ll bet he noticed my miscommunication with Shona last set just as quickly
as Alexis did. She only played me at setter for the first set, then switched to Brooklyn.
I took it without complaint, like everything else this season, but relief washes over me as she says, “Ready to set again,
Izzy?”
I nod. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Good.” She quickly outlines the plan, monitoring the clock that’s counting down until we need to take the court again. “Remember,
a short set means we don’t have room for mistakes. We practiced the moves for this situation, so just stay focused and we’ll
be able to head into the final stretch of the season with a win.”
We come in close and count one-two-three-McKee , then break with a cheer. Brooklyn pats me on the back before I take the court. I smile as I adjust my elbow wrap. It shouldn’t
feel different with Mom and Dad here, but it does.
Alexis is right, we practice these kinds of situations all the time. I know the moves, I know the signals. We’re receiving
the serve first, so I get into position just behind my front row attackers, Ellie and Shona. Victoria’s behind me with the
two other back row players, her long-sleeved black libero jersey a contrast to our home purple.
St. Francis serves. The volleyball comes over the net like a cannon, but our defensive specialist dives to hit it back into
the air. It goes high enough that I’m able to set it up for Ellie, but they block her attempt at a spike, and the ball falls
on our side of the net.
We all come into the huddle. “Watch out for nine,” I say, gesturing to the St. Francis attacker who blocked Ellie’s move.
“She’s the strongest. If we’re going to get past her, it’ll be by placing it where she can’t reach.”
Adrenaline zings through me as we set up for their next serve. Everything but the court melts away.
This time, a rally gets going, each side diving to keep it alive at the last moment. Finally, Shona buries it in the back
corner, and we tie it up. I give her a high five as we reset. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mom and Sebastian cheering.
But we lose the next point. And the next. St. Francis keeps serving, and we keep flubbing the move that will break the pat tern. They’re so deft at placing the serve, we’re on our heels each rally.
I gesture to Alexis, who calls for a time-out. I take a quick drink of water on the sidelines, listening intently as she goes
over the set so far and the adjustments she wants us to make. I shuffle through the formations mentally, nodding when she
tells me which ones to try out and which substitutions she’s making. We line up to provide more man coverage for the next
serve, and finally get a break when St. Francis’s weaker attacker misreads the ball.
“Back in it, back in it,” I call as we huddle again. “Let’s go.”
We wrestle back another point, and another. There’s always some give-and-take in a match, and I can sense the power shifting
with every hit of the ball. St. Francis might be better than us on paper, but we’ve been forcing them off-balance all afternoon,
and with the right shove, we could topple them over. I switch up our formations, refusing to give them a chance to get comfortable.
Next rally, Victoria makes an incredible save to keep the ball in the air, and I’m able to capitalize with a perfect set to
Shona. We win the point, putting us tantalizingly close to the majority we need to seal the victory.
“Almost there,” I say in the next huddle. It’s time for us to rotate, and I’ll be serving. “I’m going to try a short serve.”
“They won’t expect it from you,” Victoria says, bouncing on her heels.
“Good plan,” Shona says. “Let’s end this.”
I set up to serve in the 5 spot, but keep it short, just floating it over the net. St. Francis handles it, but barely; we
kill the rally with a quick set of moves. I pump my fist. My observations—and instincts—paid off exactly as I’d hoped.
We’re a point away.
I give Dad one more glance. He’s looking at me the way he looks at James during the two-minute warning in football, on edge and barely blinking. My resolve solidifies, sending a shiver down my back. I don’t just want to win. I want to win with an ace.
I flex my knees as I dribble the ball a few times, envisioning exactly where I want it to go. I take a deep breath in through
my nose, setting up as I exhale. As I throw the ball high into the air, I jump with perfect form—and send a rocket of an ace
right into their back corner.
Match. Point.
“Yes!” I shout, jumping wildly. “Hell yes!”
Victoria collides with me midair, throwing her arms around me. “Izzy!”
I hug her back, relief and elation coursing through me. This is what I’ve been missing since I started playing volleyball
at McKee. I feel like I’m back in high school again, heart soaring in the aftermath of a tough tournament win. The rest of
our teammates join us, cheering and patting me on the back. Brooklyn congratulates me, and even Alexis has a smile on her
face.
After we untangle ourselves and shake hands with the St. Francis team, I stay on the court. I don’t want to leave this moment
yet, especially with my family in the stands.
Sebastian pulls me into a hug before either of our parents can, smiling broadly. “That’s how you win a match!”
I hug him back. In a moment like this, it’s easy to remember the hours spent practicing volleyball in the home gym with him
and James and Cooper. Sometimes our schedules kept us apart, but that only made it more special when we could bond like that.
My technique wouldn’t be as good as it is without those hidden, foundational pieces.
“What are you even wearing?” I say with a laugh as he lifts me into the air.
“I lost a bet with Mia.”
I narrow my eyes. “Do I want to know?”
“Honey,” Mom says, arms open wide. She squeezes me tightly, her hair tickling my face. “You were incredible.”
I flush. “I don’t know about that.”
“You were,” Dad says. Under the gym lights, his hair looks extra silvery, his eyes a more serious blue. I let him wrap me
up in the best hug I could ever want, burying my face against his shoulder. “You’ve always had a wicked serve.” He kisses
the top of my head and adds, “Proud of you, darling.”
“I’m sure you want to celebrate with your teammates, but the hockey game starts soon,” Mom says. “Still want to come with
us?”
“Obviously she does,” Sebastian says, a touch dryly. “She spent two hours picking out her outfit.”
I roll my eyes. Even if I hadn’t promised Nik that I’d be there, I’d want to go. He won’t have any family at this game, despite
its importance, and he deserves to have someone in his corner.
I can’t wear his number, but at least I can cheer for him.