Chapter Three
“I can’t believe everyone did the assignment.” Nicole’s voice was hushed as they crossed into the cafeteria on campus, the gaggle of girls filing behind in a semblance of organized chaos. Marcee felt like Mother Goose with her goslings all in a row.
“Don’t worry. It’s only the first day. They have the rest of the week to disappoint us.”
A devastating combined scent of French fries and grilled burgers enveloped her five feet into the room, sending her stomach into a fit of rumbling.
Nicole sighed, a small frown turning down her petite lips. “True.”
Marcee gave her a consolatory pat on the shoulder before addressing the team.
“Okay, ladies. Get your trays and sit together at one table. I want everyone to make sure they get a salad to go with their meal. That way I don’t have to lie to your parents when I say you didn’t eat junk all week.
Otherwise, I don’t care what you get so long as you eat.
” She knew all too well the pressure young girls were under to be thin and “attractive.” For these girls, with twenty-four seven access to social media influencers and celebrities, it was even worse.
She didn’t want anyone going down the rocky road she did as a teenager.
As they dispersed, peeling off in groups of threes and fours, she and Nicole headed straight for the tamale bar set up in the far corner, bypassing the grease-laden burgers permeating the cafeteria.
“Great minds,” Nicole said, handing her a plate.
“I’m going to smash these babies.” Marcee piled her plate high with the corn-wrapped goodness, foregoing sauce and cheese.
The run earlier had left her famished, but it was important to maintain some idea of routine, even when she wasn’t home.
It’d taken her years, but she’d learned the hard way that indulging too much was the precipice for a spiral.
“So, I ran into someone today,” she mentioned as they slid onto their chairs at the end of the team’s table.
The surface of the plastic seat, chilled from the onslaught of air conditioning, sent goosebumps down her shorts-clad legs.
She was still sensitive after the conversation she overheard, and she needed to spill the tea to Nicole—relieve some of the tension. “Like, literally ran into him.”
Flipping a napkin onto her lap, Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Him? Do tell.” She was very aware of Marcee’s recent dry streak and although she was clearly hoping for something sexy, she was going to be disappointed.
“Remington Lockley.”
Nicole dropped her fork. “Shut the front door.”
“True story. It was not what I expected. At all.” Marcee sighed heavily and smothered it with a heaping bite of tamale.
“Girl.” Nicole waved the utensil in front of her. “Please tell me you did not go there. You can’t!”
“I didn’t!” she exclaimed, backing down when a few of the girls glanced their way. She leaned forward and whispered, “I swear!”
“Then why do you have guilty sex face?” Nicole accused.
Marcee ducked her head and hissed at her like a feral cat. “Say that a little louder, why don’t you?” The last thing she needed was for a rumor to get back to Headmaster Wilkes that she’d been getting it on with strangers at camp. “You know I would never.”
She’d never seen anyone eat tamales with so much judgment.
Nicole’s red eyebrows arched perfectly. “Do I? You made it pretty clear earlier that you have the hots for him. Damn it, Marcee. You can’t get it on with our archrival!
You could lose your focus. You could get fired, and if you get fired, I’ll get fired.
I don’t know about you, but I need the weekly paycheck. ”
“There was no getting it on and there will be no getting it on,” Marcee grumbled, but her friend’s words stabbed at her chest, reminding her of every dollar sent home and every utility bill paid online for parents too wrapped up in their art to be bothered to pay for stuff like hot water and gas.
Marcee should be fantastic at coaching the girls; after all, she’d been taking care of Will and Kimberly Ackerman for years.
Disgruntled acceptance? Sure. Resentment?
Quite possibly. “I didn’t do anything, Nic.
After busting up my knee, he took me to the student clinic.
All we did was talk and even if I had considered more, overhearing him and some of the other coaches talk massive shit about us ended it. ”
“What do you mean, talking shit?” Nicole asked, eyes narrowed.
Marcee’s stomach churned in a simmering mess of anger and guilt. She couldn’t help the way her body reacted to him, but her brain was a whole other matter. There was undeniable chemistry, but none of it mattered. Tamales suddenly seemed like a terrible idea as her stomach churned.
She brushed blonde strands of hair away from her face.
“Just the usual boys do it better than girls argument, mixed in with a bit of sexualization. Whatever. What they said isn’t the point.
I just need you to know that I’m not going there.
My entire focus is on these girls and the state championship we’re going to win in the spring.
” So what if she had a moment of weakness?
He was a fit, superstar athlete and she was a hot-blooded woman who had idolized him since high school; it was a perfectly normal, inevitable reaction.
It happened, he fucked up, and now she could move on to demolishing him on the soccer field.
“I’m in this,” she assured Nicole, pushing back her chair. “No guy is changing that.”
Nicole nodded and grabbed her tray. “Good, because I would hate to have to kick your ass, Ackerman.”
If the girls wondered why she was snort-laughing all the way to the trash can, well, they’d never know.
They rounded them up, making sure everyone had enough to eat. Marcee’s gaze snagged on the half-eaten burgers and the dry salads being brushed over the edge of the trash can.
She didn’t want to overthink it, but she promised herself when she started coaching that she wouldn’t let a single girl slip through the cracks and hurt themselves on her watch. She had to be vigilant.
The ever-present humidity wrapped around them as they trudged back to the dorm in the diminishing sunlight, their bellies full. She needed a shower and soft bed, in that order.
“Okay, morning run before breakfast. Everyone be in the hallway, ready to go at six a.m.” Her voice echoed off the beige walls as they climbed the staircase inside the dorm.
A chorus of groans swiftly followed. “I told you this week would push you past your limits. We are going to win this year, make no mistake.” She had every intention of being a calm and fair leader for the girls, but that didn’t mean she was kicking her competitive nature to the curb.
Marcee propped the door open with her foot, counting heads as they filed past into the hallway and their rooms.
“Strength is not only telling yourself you can do better but believing it. Your power lies in your mindset.” The stairwell door slammed shut as she slid her foot aside.
“Thanks, Dr. Phil!”
Their doors closed before she had a chance to figure out which adolescent made the snarky comment. She’d thought it was pretty good advice, even if she did steal it from a meme on social media the week before.
“That was very coach-like. Inspiring.” Nicole patted her back as she headed to the room across from hers. “See ya in the morning, Dr. Phil.”
Marcee flipped her the bird, but she’d already disappeared.
A notification popped up on her phone as she walked down the hallway to her room, a reminder from her calendar app to check in with her parents.
The universe was really getting in its jabs.
Of course, it was the first of the month, so she should probably check their electric bill and make sure it had been paid.
What must it be like to have parents who not only covered their own bases, but checked in with her to make sure she had what she needed?
“They really don’t pay me enough for this gig,” she muttered, locking the door behind her as she shuffled into her room. Latching onto problems with the girls was easier than delving into the shit with her parents. That was therapy territory, and she had no intention of riding solo.
Her thighs were stiff from sitting in the cafeteria after her run, so she stripped down and tossed the damp clothes in a corner before shrugging into her terrycloth bathrobe and slippers.
She was careful not to disturb the bandages, which needed to stay on another day or two at least. There was a communal bathroom on the floor, much to everyone’s dismay, but she’d come up with a plan to ensure she got the privacy she was accustomed to while showering at the house she shared with Alex (if you didn’t count the hissing of their cat, Freddie Mercury, every time she turned on running water).
Shower caddy tucked under her arm, Marcee paused before the bathroom door and hung up her sign, securing it with four lines of tape.
Occupied. Come back in twenty minutes. Enter and you’ll receive one lap around the field for every minute you’ve interrupted.
Genius, if she did say so herself.
The latest bop on the radio was stuck in her head from the bus ride over, so as she stepped under the streaming showerhead, she indulged herself and sang the chorus over and over.
It was strange not having Alex shout from the next room to be quiet.
For some reason, she didn’t like Marcee’s singing voice.
After she rinsed off her body wash and her hair was squeaky clean, she angled the showerhead down, letting the pressure beat against her sore thigh muscles, a pleasurable pain. Steam clouded the stall, making the tile walls slick with condensation as it billowed up and over the curtain.