The girls scatter like diligent little foot soldiers, and I let out a breath.
I hope when I say something they will listen to me that well.
The gym door slams again, and the principal strides across the court in his New Balance sneakers and overworked grin.
“Maddison, I’m so glad you made it!” He seems to breathe a sigh of relief as he says this. “Let me show you around, then I’ll let you get to it.”
The man doesn’t waste any time.
He leads me to a room off the court. “Everything you will need is in here, but be careful not to shut the door. It gets jammed, and kids have been locked inside. It’s a real nuisance. The custodian keeps forgetting to fix it.”
“Good to know.” I’ve noticed a few other things in need of fixing. No doubt the custodian is as overwhelmed as everyone else in this place is.
I gather the things I’ll need while the principal holds open the door, and I scoot the wobbly ball cart onto the gym floor.
“The lights are on a thirty minute timer. Annoying I know, but budget cuts. I can get the scoreboard working for you. But it’s a pain, so try to do without it if you can.”
“We can’t do without ball pumps,” the self-proclaimed leader of the girls says.
The principal’s expression grows taut. “I’m well aware. I’ll be getting some shortly.”
The girl turns away, and the principal lowers his voice. “That’s Diedre. A senior next year. She’s smart as a whip and knows it. She’s got a gift for the sport.”
Is she one of the girls Millie claimed could use a scholarship?
Anticipation buzzes through me. They need me, and I can help them. “I’m excited to get started.”
The principal’s smile turns genuine again. “Someone with a real zeal for life. You’re going to get on well here.”
He leaves, and then I’m alone with a bunch of girls all refusing to acknowledge me.
I clear my throat, cough, then say excuse me, but not a single girl glances my way until Diedre tells them to shut up.
I would have said it nicer if they would have listened.
Fourteen pairs of eyes settle on me, and immediately a bead of sweat breaks out along my forehead.
Keep eye contact. Teenagers can smell fear.
I gulp. “Hi, I’m Maddie.”
One girl offers me a smile in response and I aim my attention on her, holding her gaze like it’s an anchor in a storm.
“Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, and then we can get started with some warmups?”
Diedre speaks first, and the rest of the girls follow suit. By the fifth girl, I’ve already forgotten two.What is wrong with me?
Then we begin with warmup drills. I watched the girls run the first few alone then decided to jump in with them. I believe the most effective coaches are the ones who share the hard stuff.
The girls seem surprised at first but quickly adapt to include me.
Things shift as we move into practice. My coaching doesn’t feel as forced, and I’m able to relax into it as I focus on my love for the game. And it’s…fun.
“That was a great hit, Lacey!” I cheer them on as they practice serving, and already I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would.
Until Diedre speaks up again.
“It’s time for Mr. Connor’s class,” she announces.
