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When the Piercehaven girls’ basketball team returned to school on Monday morning, they were ushered into the gym, where they were lauded and applauded ad nauseam before the rest of the student body.
Emily stood leaning against the wall pads on one end of the gym, watching the spectacle. Dominic Hill, the small high school’s only math teacher, who was, like Emily, enduring his first year teaching at Piercehaven, stood beside her, his arms folded across his chest.
“Is this ever going to end?” Emily muttered to him.
His eyes widened. “Didn’t you coach them to this coveted state championship? Shouldn’t you be out there prancing around with the rest of them?”
“Nah, I wasn’t really a coach. I just sort of hung around there toward the end.”
Dominic nodded. He knew what she meant—near the end of the season, the girls’ basketball coach had been arrested for sexually assaulting his players. Emily’s sort-of-fiancé had taken over the coaching position, and Emily had helped with the emotional fallout.
“Besides,” Emily continued, “this is only your first basketball season here. Isn’t it a bit early for you to be so sour?”
“Maybe,” he admitted, “but I came into work today happy that basketball was over. Then first thing I know, we’re all herded in here for another pep rally. Isn’t enough enough?”
“This will probably be the last hoorah,” Emily tried to encourage him. “Until next season, anyway.”
“Well, I won’t be around for that.”
It was her turn to look surprised. “Really?”
“Yep. Don’t go spreading that around, but of course I won’t be here. I’m betting if you hadn’t hooked up with a lobsterman, you’d be out of here too.”
This statement annoyed her immensely, but she tried not to let it show.
“Just look at them,” he said. “The girls’ team is on the floor celebrating. The boys’ team is in the bleachers, looking jealous. And every single other student looks absolutely miserable. Look at Sara Crockett!”
Emily looked. Sara’s clothes were black. Her generous eyeliner was very black. Hair, black. Boots, black. “She always looks like that,” Emily said.
“Look at her facial expression right now, though. She would rather be anywhere but here.”
“I know, I know. You’re right.”
“Look at DeAnna!”
Emily looked. DeAnna Anderson sat isolated, on the edge of the second bleacher. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes red. “Has she been crying?” Emily wondered aloud.
“I don’t know, but probably. That kid has a rough life.”
“So then let’s not blame her tears on the girls’ basketball team.”
“You’re starting to sound like you do belong here, Miss Morse. No, from what I hear, that kid’s got plenty to be miserable about, but still, this isn’t helping. I think I’m sick of the basketball hoopla? What about her? How sick of it is she?”
Emily snickered.
“What?” He looked at her.
“You said hoopla.”
“So?”
“So? You said basketball hoopla.”
He grimaced. “I hate puns.”
“Sorry. I love them. And you’re absolutely right. Half the kids in this school don’t play basketball, and we don’t give them any other options.”
“There’s baseball,” he said.
“But there’s no softball. How ridiculous is that?”
“There’s cross-country.”
“And how many kids run cross-country?” she asked.
He laughed. “I don’t remember. Four?”
“Exactly.”
“We should have a softball team.”
“We should,” she agreed.
He was staring at her.
“What?”
“No one else is going to do it.”
“Oh yeah? Well, then why don’t you do it?” she asked.
“I’ve already applied for about ten jobs, and half of them start immediately. I can’t get out of here fast enough.”
Principal Hogan dismissed the assembly, and Mr. Hill vanished, but Emily stood where she was, watching Sara climb out of the bleachers, her face expressionless. Her T-shirt said, “I love to hate things.”
DeAnna was the last student to stand up, and when she did, she left a ten-foot buffer between herself and the rest of the student body as they slowly filed out of the gym.
Emily felt a little guilty for not doing a better job of reaching out to DeAnna, but DeAnna wasn’t an easy kid. She was argumentative, rude, and just generally unpleasant. How much Jesus must love that child, Emily thought, and vowed to do a better job of following his lead.
