time flew by at school. Between classes, practices, pledge meetings, and studying, it was October before I knew it. The leaves changed, displaying gorgeous fall colors.
My job of pledge class president was going well. I ran meetings tight, always starting and ending on time. I made sure all the ladies in my class knew their sorority history. The upperclassmen gave three different tests over a twoweek period, and we all passed each one on the first round.
Liza told me I was the best pledge class president in the sorority’s history. She even said so in front of the entire class. The girls responded with more glowing compliments. Even the big sisters said nice things to me about what a great job I was doing.
I basked in all the attention, but I could tell it burned Jewels badly. She stopped speaking to me. I hated that she was jealous, but what could I do?
I was getting adjusted to my classes, which were sort of hard at first. When I tightened up on my studying, I was able to do a lot better.
Time was even healing my Branson wound. He wasn’t gone from my heart, but it didn’t hurt as badly anymore.
Gymnastics was the one battle I couldn’t seem to conquer. I was going into the gym every morning for early practice, and when no one else was around, I performed difficult routines with confidence, not missing a single move. But when the coach and the other gymnasts were there, I couldn’t seem to do anything well.
So what if everybody’s watching? I told myself as I stood on the balance beam, one foot in front of the other, my arms extended to keep my balance. I can do this.
“Come on, freshman,” I heard somebody yell out.
“Are you going to do something or just stand there?” another girl said.
“We’re ready when you are, Laurel,” the coach said.
I wasn’t ready but I had to do something. I finally attempted the first trick in my routine, a front tuck mount. I fell off the beam. The room echoed with laughter.
Not wanting to repeat my triple fall from before, I simply stepped aside and let Summer perform. I might as well just give the last spot on the team to her.
Over the last few weeks, Summer Love had become a dynamic gymnast. She showed great confidence on the mat and had picked up impressive skills on the uneven bars. Her natural grace made the tricks she did look simple and almost perfect.
The only thing unattractive about her was her cocky personality. I tried to like her, but she kept telling me what an awful gymnast I was, rolling her eyes at me, taunting me, and bragging about how she was going to beat me for the spot.
After practice, as we were all walking to the locker room, Summer came up to me. “Why don’t you just quit? There’s no need for you to continue competing. The longer you stick around, the more heartache you’re gonna have when the coach chooses me instead of you.”
“I’m just having a little trouble,” I said. “But I’m good, and I’m gonna prove it.”
She laughed. “If you crack under pressure here, just imagine how bad you’ll do at a meet.”
“Hey, I’m not gonna let some girl who twirls her toes around in the air beat me at my game,” I said, pulling open my locker so hard it clanged against the one next to it. “I am a gymnast. And I’m going to be a Gym Dawg.”
Before Summer could say anything back, the coach came in and asked to see me in her office again. As I followed her, I heard Summer snickering.
Coach Burrows closed the door and motioned for me to have a seat. She perched on the edge of her desk and folded her arms across her chest. “Laurel, I’ve watched several films of you competing in high school competitions, recreational meets, even a regional tournament. I know you’re a great gymnast. But everything I’ve seen so far in this gym doesn’t come close to what’s on those tapes.” She sighed. “Whatever butterflies you have, you’ve got to get rid of them. Any doubt you might have about yourself, forget it. You can do this. I want you on this team, but I’ve got to see better results than what you’ve been giving me.”
“I really do want to be on this team, Coach,” I assured her. “I just don’t know if I’m good enough.”
“I’ve seen you win meets,” she said, returning to her seat behind the desk. “I believe I can make you an even greater athlete than you already are. You can compete on a national level. Eventually you could even get into the Olympics. But you’ve got to help me out. I need a reason to keep you on this team.”
“And I want to give you a reason,” I said eagerly.
“Then there’s something I want you to do,” she said.
“Name it.”
“There’s a big home football game tomorrow afternoon. I want you to go there and study the team. See how the players tune out the screaming fans and focus on what they have to do for the team. If you focus on even one player’s mental toughness, I believe that will help you stay focused yourself.”
“I’ll do it,” I responded gladly.
“On Monday,” she said sternly, “I want to see a different Laurel Shadrach.”
“You will, Coach,” I promised.
_____________________
“Come on,” I hollered. “You can make it!” I sat in the stands at the Georgia Bulldawgs football game with my dad, all three of my brothers, and seventy-five thousand other fans. Most of us were wearing red, black, and white, the school colors.
In the fourth quarter, with thirty seconds left on the clock, our placekicker, Hanson, was about to try for a field goal. If he made it, our team would win. If not, the Auburn Tigers would beat us.
Everyone in the stands rose to their feet. We stood in silence, not wanting to disturb the kicker. I prayed the ball would make it through the uprights. For some reason, I felt connected to that player. I’d heard he was a freshman and he’d been doing an outstanding job. His field goals had saved the Bulldawgs from defeat before. I hoped he would do it again.
The ball was snapped and placed. Hanson made contact. As the ball sailed into the sky, it veered slightly to the left. We all held our breath. The ball nicked the goalpost and bounced outside. The referees signaled it “no good,” and the crowd groaned.
I wanted to weep for the guy. I understood how he felt. I’d been in that position several times, where my score in a gymnastics meet made the difference between win and loss for my team.
Suddenly the crowd started yelling. I looked up and noticed there was a yellow flag on the field. One of the referees had called a foul against the opposing team. The kicker would get another chance!
“Thank You, Lord,” I screamed. My family looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but I didn’t care.
Hanson’s second chance held great symbolic meaning for me. In that moment, it didn’t matter that thousands of people were watching. He couldn’t let the crowd distract him. He couldn’t let what happened on the previous kick upset him. He just had to do his best.
I needed to do that too. I had to give my gymnastics career to the Lord and let Him show His power to make things happen in His name.
Hanson stepped back, held up one hand, then let it fall. When the ball was in place, he stepped up to it and planted his toe firmly against the pigskin.
“It went through!” I screamed. “Thank You, Lord!”
_____________________
After the game, I practiced at the gym for about an hour, then went to my room to study for midterms.
Payton was there, her rap music blaring. I grabbed my books and decided to find a quieter place to study.
The sorority house had a “study room,” but it was more of a gossip chat room than a good place to concentrate. All the classrooms were locked up for the weekend. So I headed for the library.
I found a perfect little place on the third floor. It was the only unoccupied table I could find. The four-person desk beside it was empty too. I sat down and spread my books across the table, excited about getting some good, solid work done.
All of a sudden, an annoying guy stood over me. “Excuse me,” he said, “but you’re in my seat.”
I looked up at him. He looked vaguely familiar. He had short copper-blond hair and beautiful hazel eyes, but I wasn’t about to get caught up in his looks.
“There are no assigned seats in the library, and I don’t see your name written anywhere on this one. Why don’t you take that empty desk?”
He stood there, his strong-looking arms crossed over his muscular chest. “I’ve been coming here every night since school started,” he explained. “I’ve kind of gotten used to this chair. I know it’s an inconvenience, but would it be a big deal for you to move?”
“Look,” I said as calmly as I could, “maybe I’m not as attached to this seat as you are, but my stuff is spread out everywhere and I’d rather not move it all. I see no reason why you can’t just go study over there.”
I pointed to the desk. But we’d been arguing so long, a group of students had set themselves up at there.
He shrugged at me.
I glanced around. The library was packed. The three empty chairs at my table were the only unoccupied seats.
With a long sigh, I stacked my books so they only took up half of the table, and he sat in the empty chair on the opposite side.
I tried to get back to my studying, but the three guys at the desk beside me were talking about the football game. They went on and on about how Hanson should have made the field goal the first time. I wondered how the girl who was with them could possibly concentrate on the textbook in front of her.
“Good thing the other team fouled,” said a guy with a goatee and long sideburns.
“Yeah,” his friend, who was wearing a fraternity sweatshirt, said. “Otherwise that moron would’ve cost us the game.”
My temper stated rising. I felt a kinship with that kicker, and hearing them talk about him was almost as if they were saying those things about me.
Finally, I turned to them and said, “Hey, if it hadn’t been for Hanson, we would have lost the last three games. He’s just a freshman, but he’s already pulling the team.”
They stared at me with blank expressions. I couldn’t tell if they agreed with what I was saying, but I wasn’t about to let up.
“No game is ever the sole responsibility of the kicker anyway. I mean, we had way too many fumbles, quarterback sacks, interceptions. And our defense wasn’t doing anything to stop Auburn. Hanson shouldn’t have to win a game all by himself. And yet every score we made today was a field goal.”
The girl who was sitting with these guys glanced up from her textbook. I wondered briefly what she thought of my outburst. But I was on a roll, and I wasn’t going to stop.
“You think we need a new kicker?” I went on. “Well, Hanson is the only player we should make sure to keep. You know, I find it funny when fans complain about their team. You have no idea what it’s like to be down there under all that pressure unless you play sports yourself.”
Two of the guys looked at each other and started laughing. The girl turned her attention back to her textbook. But the guy with the hairy face said to me, “I get your point.” He gave me a sly grin. “What’s your name?”
“Don’t worry about my name,” I said, offended by his sudden flattery. “You just remember what I said. Next time you’re watching a football game, support the whole team. When things go wrong, whoever gets us out of it is a hero, not someone to complain about.”
“All right, all right,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.
The other boys at the table whistled. The girl looked up at me and grinned. “I totally agree with you. Thanks for putting it in words he can understand.”
I smiled at her, then turned back to my books.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” the guy at the table said.
“You do look kinda familiar,” I replied.
“I helped you pick up your books on the first day of school.”
I blushed, recalling how clumsy I’d been. “You were really helpful that day. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smile. “So, you’re a football fan, huh?”
“Yeah, I am,” I said.
“I think it’s admirable that you stood up for the kicker like that.”
I shrugged. “I know how it feels to have a lot riding on your shoulders.”
A huge smile lit up his face. “You do?”
“I prayed for his kick to be in God’s hands, and—”
“You prayed for him?” the guy said.
“Yeah, I did,” I said, starting to feel defensive. “What about it?”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I think that’s probably what he needed.”
“Maybe,” I said, surprised at his response.
The two of us returned to our studying. After a couple of hours of quiet focus, I heard a chair scrape on the floor. I looked up and noticed the guy across from me standing.
“I do come here often,” he said. “If you want to, I’d love to share a table with you again sometime.”
“Thanks.” For some strange reason, I felt giddy inside.
“Maybe I’ll see you later?”
“I’d like that.”
We smiled at each other. As he walked away I realized we hadn’t told each other our names. I was bummed out about that but figured we’d have a chance to introduce ourselves next time.
_____________________
On Monday morning, I woke up excited. My burdens were light and my yoke was easy.
I spent an hour choosing my outfit for the day and ironing it. Then I spent another hour in the bathroom fixing my hair in a cute style. I had let myself go over the last few weeks because I was so bummed about Branson. It felt good to care about my appearance again.
When I came out of the bathroom, Payton went on and on about how cute I looked. We laughed about it, but she was right. I looked dramatically better than I had in a long time.
Payton was wearing the T-shirt and sweats she had slept in. Her head was covered in curlers. When I vacated the bathroom, she went in.
It was Payton’s birthday, so while she was in the bathroom I pulled out the present I had wrapped a few days before and set it on her bed. When she came out and saw it, she smiled.
“How did you know?” she asked.
I smiled without answering. Payton opened the gift and thanked me for the perfume I’d bought her. But her smile soon faded.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as she flopped onto her bed.
“My parents forgot my birthday again,” she said, a sob catching in her throat. “Every year, when I was growing up, they would wake me up at 12:03 A.M. to give me my presents because that’s the time I was born. Last year, they didn’t even call me until the next day. I mean, with everything they had going on in their life, I could understand. But two years in a row …”
Payton looked like she was going to start crying in her pillow, so I reached under my bed and pulled out the big box her parents had sent me to give to her on her special day. When I handed it to her, she squealed with delight. She ripped the top off the box and found clothes, CDs, and a ton of cosmetics.
After she put all her new stuff away, her smile disappeared and her eyes became sad again.
“Bye,” she said in a morose voice as she started out the door. “I’ll see you later.”
“Wait,” I said. “You’re not going to class dressed like that, are you?”
“Your parents bought you new clothes, and you’re gonna wear those old things?”
She looked down at the wrinkled gray sweats. “So I’m not into dressing up. What’s the big deal?”
She shut the door. I prayed that her day would get better. But I was not about to let her unhappiness get me down. I went about my day singing and smiling.
I headed back toward my dorm at the end of the day, still elated. I was confident I’d aced my two midterms, and I’d done better at gymnastics practice than I had in a long time.
When I entered the foyer, I saw the prettiest bouquet of roses I had ever seen sitting in a crystal vase on the dorm monitor’s desk. They were a mix of pink, peach, and yellow with lovely green ferns and white baby’s breath. “Are these mine?” I teased Judy, the dorm monitor.
“They’re for your roommate,” Judy said, handing the vase to me. “You can take them to your room if you want.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the flowers from the pretty grad student. “It’s her birthday today.”
“Those roses sure are beautiful,” she said. “If they’d stayed here any longer, I might have just kept them for myself.” Judy winked and we laughed.
As I took the flowers to our room, I counted eighteen roses, apparently symbolic for Payton’s age. I wondered who they were from.
When I got to our room, I almost lost everything as I tried to twist the doorknob while holding the vase and all my books.
“You shouldn’t try to be Superwoman,” I heard Jewels’s voice behind me. “Just put something down, open the door, then come out and get the rest.”
Her advice made a lot of sense, although I would have liked it more if she’d have just helped me for a change. But at least she was talking to me again. That was good enough. Besides, I was having such a great day, I decided not to let her spoil it.
“Thank you, Jewels,” I said, taking her advice and setting down my books. I took the vase in and put it on Payton’s nightstand, then came back for the rest of my stuff. I tried to shut the door before Jewels could ask about the flowers, but I wasn’t quick enough.
“Nice roses,” she said, following me into the room. “Are you and Branson getting back together?”
“These are for Payton,” I explained as I set my books on the desk.
“Well, let’s see who they’re from.” She reached for the card that was clipped onto a pink plastic holder stuck into the bouquet.
“No!” I yelled.
She glared up at me. “Fine. Whatever.” She left the room in a huff, going through the adjoining bathroom to her room.
I sat at my desk to study, peeking up once in a while and staring at the card, wondering who the flowers might be from.
The minute Payton came in, I pointed to the roses. She looked at them, opened the card, and tossed it into the wastebasket.
“Who are they from?” I asked, dying to know.
“Dakari,” she said without emotion.
Jewels came bursting into the room, and she and Payton started arguing about Dakari. I wondered if Jewels was feeling a bruised ego because Dakari had sent Payton flowers, which maybe meant he was trying to move back into Payton’s life. I could tell Payton didn’t want to rub it in her face, but Jewels was asking for it.
Not wanting to get involved in their squabble, I snuck into the bathroom and took a long shower.
When I came back into the room, Jewels was gone. But I saw a gift-wrapped box on Payton’s bed.
“What’s that?” I asked with a grin. “A birthday present from Jewels?”
“Of course not,” Payton snarled. “The dorm monitor just asked her to give it to me.”
“Aren’t you going to open it?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I guess I can, now that she’s gone.” Payton opened the card. “It’s from Tad.”
Man, I thought. Having one ex-boyfriend is bad enough. I can’t imagine having two!
Tad had given Payton a Christian book.
“You are so lucky,” I said. “You got so many birthday presents from people who care about you.”
“I don’t give a rip about all this stuff,” she grumbled, wadding up the wrapping paper. “I have too much going on in my life right now to think about presents.”
“Let’s take your mind off things,” I suggested. “How about letting me take you out to dinner for your birthday?”
“No thanks,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “I don’t want to do anything right now.”
I couldn’t just let her sit there and mope. Somehow I convinced her to go out to dinner with me. On the way there we chatted about our insecurities, guy issues, our spiritual walks. We commiserated about all the pressure we were both under but reassured each other that God was with us, helping us stand.
After getting all that out into the open, we were able to have a great time at the restaurant.
The walk back to our dorm room was heavenly. The sky was calm and blue. And the conversation was honest. Payton finally let my good mood rub off on her. As we neared the dorm, Payton stopped and looked at me. “Thanks for being pushy with me earlier. I really appreciate you going the extra mile, caring about me, and helping me with my problems.”
“We’ve both got to take life day by day,” I told her. “Sometimes minute by minute. The Holy Spirit lives in you and me, and we can do all things through Him. If you choose to have a good day, you can. It’s not what happens to you that’s important; it’s how you respond to what happens to you. For me, I want to be happy. And I’m finally thinking I can.”