Twelve #2
Instead, I worried my lip as Leah wrestled two Lions for control.
Tears burst from Leah’s eyes as she took an uncalled elbow to the stomach a moment before the ball came out of the pile up.
I wanted to shake those Lion girls for the bruises they were dishing out and find their coach behind the bleachers and give some payback.
In what world was it okay to encourage this kind of behavior.
The bouncing orange and black ball ricocheted across the court past a stumbling black-haired Lion and right into flat-footed Katje’s hands just outside the key.
Pivoting, Katje calmly put the ball up and sank the basket before anyone could close with her.
Glancing back at the scoreboard my fury melted to nausea.
We were ahead. For the first time all game we were in the lead and there were still eight seconds of play left.
And the Lions had the ball. I don’t think since Mom and I walked out on Dad had victory felt so close and equally uncertain.
The mere possibility of victory was worse than a clean loss, you could smell it but it could still curdle before you tasted it.
The girls set up and the Lion’s guard was moving immediately, almost picking the ball off the ref as he whistled the ball live.
Leah got in the guard’s face at the three-point line.
Backing down the Lion passed to the center who went for the tying layup.
Olive tried to match the rise but didn’t have the height and got her hand on the center’s hand instead of the ball.
The ref who hadn’t called a single thrown elbow called the foul just as the buzzer screamed.
“Damn,” I couldn’t hold back. Maggie glanced at me and then to the girls on the bench hoping they hadn’t heard. Where was the ref and the rules during the rest of the game? What a joke.
The players set up, not that the rebound mattered.
These were the last two shots of the game and they would determine whether we played overtime or won.
I wanted to look away–actually I wanted to line up on the key and knock the ball down myself but that was childish.
The Lion’s dark-haired center sank the first shot.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Setting up for the next shot she dribbled, thud thud thud, raised to shoot, and then shook her head and dribbled again before squaring her shoulders and taking the shot.
The ball arched and bricked the back of the rim, popping out.
I stumbled as the bodies of my girls crushed me at speed. There was crying and hyperventilating, breathing, and fast talking all at once. Maggie flashed me a thumbs up from a similar pile. Then I was free and the girls were clutching each other.
“That was a tight one,” Maggie chuckled. “Right down to the wire.”
“It doesn’t seem fair,” I managed.
Maggie’s face hardened and with a snort she said, “Life’s not fair. You, me, all of them, we play against the ref every day. The sooner these girls learn that the better. Despite that sometimes you can still pull out a win.”
“You okay?” I inquired. Maggie had always been tough but that was surprising.
Shaking her head she waved me away. “I’m fine. Sometimes I forget that not everyone spent their teenage years picking fruit.”
“Coach Velazques?” Penny asked, flanked by Jackie and Leah. “Does the game MVP have to be a player?”
“What?” Maggie asked.
Jackie sighed with a perfected eye-roll-arms-crossed exhale. “They want to call my uncle the MVP.”
It was my turn. “What?” I choked. It was bad enough that I was dreaming about the guy, calling attention to the fact he was Jackie’s uncle could make the whole thing blow up. He was going to be at the CPR class on Saturday. With other teachers, and me. This was terrible.
“No way was the ref going to give me that foul shot,” Penny explained. “If he hadn’t called the foul we would be one down and in overtime right now.”
Maggie looked thoughtful, mulling the idea over. If he was the game MVP it would be all over the morning announcements. No way.
“Nope. Can’t do it,” I said. “It’s in the name.
Most valuable player. MVP has to be one of you girls.
Craig’s not a registered player.” Maggie looked satisfied and the girls looked disappointed.
Even Jackie, maybe she hadn’t heard me call him Craig.
“You won,” I crowed. “You were on the court making the plays. MVP is one of you.”
Nodding, trying to convince herself I was right, Penny muttered, “Yea that makes sense.”
“Go get cleaned up. Tomorrow is an on-your-own light run day,” Maggie ordered.
“We’ll see you all again on Monday. Great job.
I am really proud of every one of you. This was a team effort.
If even one of you hadn’t pulled your weight today, this wouldn’t have happened.
” Then with a smile she added. “See what happens when you trust your team.”
“We kick ass,” Katie smirked.
“Language,” Maggie snapped despite her grin.
Everyone was on the court now. We shook hands with the other team, something Maggie stressed even though the game had not been friendly. Then everyone was on the court, parents, students, janitors trying to clean up so they could go home. It was bedlam.
“And tomorrow we are expected to just show up and teach class like we weren’t in a battle for our lives,” Maggie mused.
I leaned over so no one else could hear us, “We should get combat pay and trauma counseling.”
Our girls were filtering through the crowd finding friends and family, receiving praise for their truly awesome job.
The team's red and black wolfpack uniforms, once a uniting palette were now just a seasoning in the mob. As my gaze drifted across them, my eyes met Craig’s tumbled blue gems. And he smiled, a soft breathy smile that lifted his cheeks and crinkled his craggy crow’s feet, a smile that didn’t acknowledge the volatility he’d exhibited earlier.
The arches of my feet itched, demanding that I move, that I run.
Instead, I twisted my toes inside my shoes trying to scratch at the discomfort.
Turning my back on everyone, I faced Maggie and responded to her simmering anger.
“This is why we play clean. We prepare to perform and then lay it all out even if the next day everyone else acts like it never happened. Because it did happen and we can’t go back, win or lose.
The game got played and it changes us, changes the team. ”
“Well coach, thanks for the pep talk,” Maggie laughed. “Seriously though, you’ll make a great head coach. I know you want to move up. Getting your CPR and first–aid training re-up will help with that.”
The class. Why did I let Fiona switch slots with Craig? He wouldn’t know anyone other than me, and he would be the only non-school employee there. There was no way to hide that we knew each other. And no place to hide from him either.
“I’ve got to go,” I said abruptly.
“Okay. Yeah, it’s been a long day,” Maggie conceded. “Drive safe and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The heady taste of victory mixed with the unsettling sour feel that Craig was inducing.
The mix left me without any desire to cook but still with the need to celebrate in some way.
I picked up a focaccia panini and apple slaw from a drive through and tried to sink into the night time drive.
The unseasonably warm February weather was melting the snow during the day but refreezing it at night, leaving trees, bushes and roadways glistening in the street lights.
Everything was slippery under a thin glaze of ice, a mix of beauty and danger.
I drove slowly. There was no better way to ruin a day than to wreck your car or drive off the road.
Pulling into the alley behind my house I was filled with gratitude for my luck.
This small mid-century two bedroom had been in bad shape after decades as a rental.
Someone had tried to flip it at the bottom of the market but ran out of money.
I’d been a newly hired teacher with some left-over student loan money.
A steady income, a bit of down payment cash, and the bottom of the market all combined to put me in a home that I wouldn’t be able to buy now.
Parking I sighed, tasting the slightly savory flavor of the hot panini in the air. The girls had played so hard, but how much of the victory was luck and how much was due to hard work? The thought was unsettling and I put it away as I got out of the car.
The white washed interior walls were bright and soothing despite the wet darkness outside.
Kicking off my shoes by the back door I dropped my gym bag on the kitchen floor and padded into the living room, collapsing on the couch.
The creak of the old springs was as soothing as the rush of ocean waves.
The pale blue color was a little off and there was a stain on one side panel, but the sound of it always took me back to the coast. It fit in with the seashells, and large knotty rope work, and the photos of Mom and I along the pacific northwest coast. Photos full of lighthouses, rocky cliffs and wind twisted pines.
The photos of craggy cliffs with weathered lines and sea gray oceans momentarily took me to Craig.
Groaning, I sat up and went back to the kitchen to get my laptop.
I had class to prepare for and didn’t have time for this crap.
Unwrapping the panini I took a bite, letting the turkey and ham and sundried tomato flavor sink in.
It didn’t sink in deep enough to displace him.
When I finally went to bed and drifted off to sleep to my phone’s white noise of crashing waves, he was there too.