Marysville, Washington
Monday, January 13th, 4:05 pm
After our cool down, I walked off the court toward the locker room feeling lower than dirt. Olivia came up on one side of me and Neva, a skinny African-American caught up on the other. I kept my gaze on the floor. “Don’t harangue me, okay? I have to go along to get along.”
“As long as you realize that if you pull any of that crap on Thursday night, we’re kicking your butt back to M.P., it’s cool,” Neva said.
I flicked a glance at her and saw fury on her ebony features. Tears burned and one slid down my cheek before I could stop it. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Olivia bumped me with her elbow. “You better get your butt out and practice tonight at home. Otherwise, air-balling becomes a habit. Deal?”
I nodded. Another tear. “Deal.”
“Oh and if you have the time, you should run with Robin and me. Otherwise, that lagging during lines will cost you in the games.”
“Won’t he catch on if I run with you or other people on cross-country?” I asked.
“No. We’re on hiatus for the month. We don’t start training again until February when we have to get ready for State. He knows we practice on our own, but we don’t tell him about it and then he can’t tote the party line and tell us not to overdo it.”
“Okay.” When we entered the locker room, I still couldn’t look at the rest of the squad. I was too ashamed and embarrassed for giving less than my best. If Olivia and Neva had caught on to what I’d done, what about the rest of the girls? Did they know? If they did, nobody said anything while I changed clothes and left the gym.
* * * *
Marysville, Washington
Tuesday, January 14th, 4:15 pm
I did the same thing again at practice and won more praise from Coach Norris for holding back. This time, Patricia and Didi were the ones who escorted me to the locker room and called me on being a slacker. I gave them the stink-eye and demanded. “What do you want me to do? Run lines the entire time because he hates me?”
“Why is he giving you such a hard time?” Patricia asked. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” I said. “He asked me what position I could play when I got here and I told him that I was good with wherever he wanted me. I didn’t ask for point guard even though I was one last year and the entire time I played in middle school.”
“He thinks you’re a princess.” Didi’s voice was loud enough that it caught some of the other girls’ attention.
“Well, that’s bogus. I just don’t get it,” Cedar said, coming over to us. “I’ve seen you practice at home after you clean the barn at night. Other kids have chores, but they don’t take care of twenty horses by themselves.”
“Yeah, well if Sierra didn’t love the game so much, she’d bail and figure she had enough to do at Shamrock Stable,” Olivia said. “Anybody know why Coach is on her case?”
Nobody said a word. Finally, a skinny, quiet blonde on the far side of the locker room waved her hand. “I’m office TA third period. Want me to see what I can find out tomorrow?”
“That works,” Patricia said. “Anything Gretchen should be looking for, Sierra? Or listening for?”
“I don’t know what they’ll say there.” I managed to shrug. “I’m here on athletic scholarship, but that’s not a secret. Principal Gallagher seemed enthusiastic about me enrolling when my grandfather and I visited.”
“That shouldn’t be a big deal,” Olivia said. “Kanisha and I have scholarships too.”
“We’re not the only ones,” Kanisha said.
I knew it should make me feel better to have them on my side, but it didn’t. I wanted us to be a team and work well with our coach. I wasn’t gutless. I’d been standing up for myself for as long as I could remember. I didn’t care for the tension when I entered the gym and I really hated calling somebody, “sir,” when it wasn’t a sign of respect, but a way to circumvent criticism.
I changed clothes and headed out to the Burger Palace. I ordered pasta again. It wasn’t that I needed the carbs. I wanted the comfort food. Tom came over with my salad and topped off my water glass. “Thanks.”
“You look down. Anything I can help with?”
I focused on unwrapping the napkin around the silverware. “I’m just having a hard time with this new Saint Sierra role. It’s tough being super sweet to stupid people.”
“That’s an expectation put on girls.” Tom lingered by my booth. “You don’t hear adults telling guys they have to be con artists to be liked. When I ran for student-body prez, I didn’t opt for insincerity, or telling everyone what I figured they wanted to hear. Think about it.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Yeah. How about a ride to group tonight?”
“Sure. And I’m not saying it to be Ms. Congeniality.”
“Yeah, well I’d rather you’d just be Ms. Honest,” Tom said. “There are enough phony people in the world. I hope you don’t join them.”
For the first time in days, I felt like smiling, really smiling. “Around you, I won’t. How’s that?”
“Sounds like a plan. I have to get back to work. We’ll talk later.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” I wasn’t lying, not to him. I could be me, the real person. That was a major load off my shoulders.
During the at-risk meeting, I found myself looking at the other seven kids in a new way. How many of them put on masks, pretending to be something they weren’t? Finally, Ingrid came back to me and asked if I wanted to contribute. I shook my head. “Not tonight.”
Tom jumped into the conversation. “I have a question about gender expectations.”
“What?” Ron groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Is this going to turn into one of those school lectures?”
“No way, man. One of the girls at work wants to do more than help the cook. He says running the grill is too hard for her because she’s female. She should concentrate on being pretty and flirting with the male customers to make tips when she waitresses. Do I take this to my boss? How do I handle it?”
That brought hoots of laughter and suggestions of what Tom should tell the cook about coming into the “now” instead of hanging out in the “middle ages.” Once the other kids figured out he was serious, the tone changed. Eleanor asked how much the boxes of burgers weighed. Could the girl physically do the job?
Tom said that she already stocked the little refrigerator of supplies and plated for the cook. She really wanted to go to culinary school and learn to be a chef. This would make a good first step as well as a decent raise.
Once we started coming up with possible solutions, Ingrid took over. She talked about how society had certain roles for guys and girls. She asked how many people were told they could do something better because of gender.
“Do you mean like my mom wanting me to tune up her car when my sister actually knows more about mechanics?” Ron leaned forward and snagged a cookie from the plate. “Or my dad telling her to get out of the garage, to go to the kitchen and fix supper when she’s a lousy cook? She has the pizza parlor on speed dial.”
“Exactly like that.” Ingrid smiled at him. “Who else has something to say?”
“I do.” Vicky waved her hand. “How about when my stepdad says he “lost his temper” and my mom has “hysterical meltdowns”? His rages are worse than hers, but when she’s angry, he wants to know if it’s that time of the month. No wonder they’re divorcing.”
“Yeah,” Eleanor said. “It’s like those labels we talked about in Health class. He’s aggressive, a real go-getter. She’s bossy and pushy.”
“What’s wrong with being bossy?” Vicky glanced at me. “If Sierra’s not bossy at the barn, twenty horses go hungry. Would it be better if she was a guy?”
“I don’t think so,” Tom said.
That brought snickers and more laughter when I felt my face warm. I didn’t get mad because they thought it was funny that he crushed on me. I knew he did. He’d been looking at me ever since I joined the group. And okay, I looked back. Who wouldn’t? He was smart and when I got snarky, he didn’t give me a lot of be nice garbage. Wait a second. Wasn’t that another kind of label?
I didn’t get to ask. Becky, one of the girls on the far side of the room brought it up. Fiona threw in a few sarcastic comments about the models on TV. The conversation shifted even more as Ingrid got us to talk about pet peeves. When she came to me, I said what I thought. “I hate having to miss the basket because girls can’t hit it every time.”
“Who says?” Becky demanded, twining black hair around her finger. “It’s coordination, talent and practice. Can you play golf?”
“I’ve never tried,” I said. “What does golf have to do with basketball?”
“Well, if I took you out to the course, I bet I’d beat you. I’ve been playing since I could lift a club. If I’m on the court, I expect you to do better than me. You love basketball. You’ve been playing forever. Why do you have to miss the basket?”
“I told you. Because girls can’t shoot like guys can. Does a coach ever tell a guy to hold back?”
“Only if he’s a secret weapon,” Ron said. “We have this guy, Logan Watson at Centennial. We know he can outscore everyone, so we use him to mop up the competition.”
“Does he hold back in practice?” Ingrid asked.
“No way. He has to keep his skills sharp or he’ll lose it when we need him.”
“What if he was a girl?” Ingrid didn’t look at me, but kept her attention on Ron.
“The cheerleaders would be majorly ticked. So would he when they quit following him.”
More laughter, but I got the point. It made me feel better. Coach Norris had preconceived notions of what made girls successful. He didn’t think we had the same desire to win that the guys did. I’d bet he’d be totally surprised that Patricia wanted us to compete at State this year. He probably didn’t even know he practiced what Ingrid called, gender bias. Okay, so I wasn’t about to call a lawyer and pitch a fit about sexual discrimination. I’d just know it was Coach and his prejudices, not me. And come Thursday night, I’d play ball. Lincoln High would win again!
When I got home a little after eight-thirty, Charlie and Queenie met me at the back yard gate. I scooped up my puppy and snuggled with him for a moment. I leaned down and petted Queenie. Then the three of us headed for the back door. I kept a wary eye out for doggie landmines and reminded myself that I needed to poop scoop the back yard the next day.
Dave and Mom sat at the kitchen table with Autumn helping her with homework. I put down my dog and found treats for him and Queenie. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Pretty good,” Mom said. “Oscar’s parents called and he’s joining the club. He’ll be here on Sunday for the first meeting. They wanted to know the name and I told them we hadn’t decided yet.”
“I thought it would be good if everybody voted on it.” I shrugged. “Then, nobody can complain later.”
“Or if they do, you don’t have to listen,” Dave pointed out. “Do you have homework too, Sierra?”
“Always at this school. Why?”
“Oh, I thought you might be up for a little one-on-one out in the carport if you weren’t too tired after your practice and meeting.”
I eyed him, wondering how he knew about the at-risk teen thing and saw a blush creep into Mom’s face. So, she’d ratted me out again. What else was new? “Hey, I can always read History after I totally defeat you.”
“Bring it on, little girl.” He laughed. “Bring it on!”
“No problem.” I put away my backpack and grabbed the pink basketball out of the closet. We strolled out to the carport and he hit the light switch. Once we could see what we were doing, I began dribbling. He tried to block me, but I went around him and shot from what would have been the back of the free throw line if there was an actual key painted on the concrete. I threw the ball at him. He caught it, twisted around and scored.
Oh yeah, this was what the game was all about. We didn’t play nice. We fouled each other, got free throws, and continued to steal the ball whenever possible. A half hour later, I collapsed on the floor. “Time out.”
“Me too.” He sat down beside me. He reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a tiny jewelry box. “I wanted to show you this.”
“What is it?” Dread swirled through me. “Oh, Dave. Don’t do it.”
“I have to.” He popped the catch. Light flashed off an emerald ring. “She’s enchanted me from the first moment I saw her.”
“She’ll break your heart. You barely know her.”
“I know everything I need to know about your mom, Sierra. She hasn’t held back anything. She’s made mistakes in her life, but so have I. Nobody’s perfect, honey.” He reached over and smoothed my hair. “Will you give us your blessing?”
“Only if you promise to wait until next fall for the wedding,” I said, thinking fast.
“Why?”
“Because it takes time to put on a big ceremony,” I said, still fudging. I barely managed to meet his gaze. I couldn’t say that I wanted an escape clause for him. If Mom got through the rodeo season and didn’t do a swap-ortunity for one of her bronc riders, I’d know she really loved Dave. I’d believe she was ready to be an adult. Right now, I didn’t know what game she was playing.
“That’s fair.” Dave closed the box and put it back in his pocket. “I’ve been visiting Shamrock Stable for a long time, but your mom and I only started dating a few months ago. If we get married next September, my youngest son will be home from Afghanistan.”
“There you go. That’s the perfect reason.” I jumped up and grabbed the basketball. “Come on. My turn to beat you.”
“You can try.” He was on his feet, blocking me. “When the boys are home on leave, they’ll take on both of us.”
“And we’ll whip them into shape,” I said.