Kara's Cross

Maddie and I are the first two to arrive at tryouts. Since we have PE for the last period of the day, we decided to leave our gym clothes on and just wait. I taught Maddie most of the terms and we played the volleyball game at my house for about an hour yesterday, so she should be almost as good as I am. I hope we both make the team and not just me. That would ruin everything.

“Are you as excited as I am? We’re about to begin Operation Team Player!” I try to add some excitement to the announcement.

“I guess,” Maddie’s reply doesn’t sound as confident, “I’m a little nervous, though.”

“Just try your best; I’m sure you’ll make the team.”

I hope she makes it. It wouldn’t be any fun without her.

A couple of girls walk in from the locker room, one of them holding a volleyball. They stand about ten feet away from each other and start hitting the ball back and forth.

“They’re passing the ball,” I gesture for Maddie to see. “See how they hit it with their forearms?”

I imitate the motion with my arms.

“Right there, that was a set,” I point to the girl who just pushed the ball up with her fingertips, “you do that up by the net so someone can spike it.”

As we watch, about a dozen more girls wander out of the locker room, many of them with volleyballs in hand. They also begin hitting the ball around.

“Kara,” Maddie looks at me, “were we supposed to bring a ball with us? Everyone else has one.”

“There were some in the locker room; we were probably supposed to grab one. Let’s go.”

We head into the locker room, passing another ten to fifteen girls.

“There are a lot of girls here,” Maddie reports, “I wonder how many make the team?”

“I don’t know,” looking back, there are at least fifty girls here now. “All I know is we’re going to make it.”

My confidence is slipping a little. There are so many people here.

“Hey, I just remembered,” I announce, looking over at Maddie, “didn’t Mason say he was going to be here? Where is he?”

“The coaches put signs on the door while you were going to the bathroom. No one is allowed in here unless they are trying out. I wouldn’t want a bunch of boys watching me anyway, I’m nervous enough.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I’m a little disappointed, but she has a point.

As we round the corner to the locker room, Arabella and a few other girls come walking out of the doors right in front of us. She doesn’t seem to notice us. I try to sidestep out of their way, but we’re too close. She sees us and stops right before running into us.

“Watch where you’re...” she looks at us in recognition, “oh, it’s you two. Don’t tell me you’re going out for the volleyball team? Oh my God, do yourselves a favor and go home now.”

Maddie steps against the wall, out of their way, and I do the same. I want to speak up, but don’t really know what to say. Arabella seems even taller than I remember. Could she really be a freshman?

“We’d be doing you the favor,” it just slips out; I don’t know why I’m talking, “we might take your spot on the team.”

Arabella and the girls surrounding her stop in their tracks and turn to face us. Maddie is staring at me open mouthed with eyes wide open, looking like a deer about to be hit by a car. Arabella stares at us for a few moments, face carved into a stony glare. Suddenly, she breaks into laughter, causing Maddie to jump about a half a foot.

“You puny nothings think you’re going to make the team?” Her laughter continues, the words coming sporadically. “And, you’re going to make it instead of me?” This causes her laughter to reach new levels. The girls with her are laughing, too. I’m not sure if it’s genuine, or just support laughter, but they are all doing it. “I should make you leave right now, but I’m in the mood for some laughs, so I want to watch you tryout. C’mon, ladies.”

She leads her group out into the gym, leaving Maddie and I alone by the lockers. Maddie looks terrified. Maybe Arabella is right, maybe we aren’t going to be any good. Some of the girls out there seem pretty good.

“Should we just go, Kara?”

I feel like saying yes. Any confidence I had is gone. Unless that is what Arabella was trying to do. Maybe she is worried we will make the team.

“We have to try, Maddie,” I try to sound positive, “maybe she was being mean to try and scare us.”

“Well, it worked. I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry about it, just do your best,” I try to sound encouraging.

Out in the gym, a whistle sounds.

“It must be the start of tryouts, we’d better get out there,” I begin walking back to the gym, “hurry up, Maddie.”

We jog out there and stand on the outskirts of the group. The coach talks to us about the things he wants to see and everything we have to do. I don’t understand all of the things we are supposed to show him, but I figure I can fake it. He puts us into groups of six around the gym and tells us to pass the ball to each other for a while. The coach assigns Maddie to a different team than me. As I walk over to my group’s designated area, I see Arabella talking to one of the girls who is in my group. They look at me briefly, talk for a few more seconds and split up to move into their groups.

Our group forms a circle and we begin hitting the ball to each other. The first time it comes to me, I hit it, but it goes off to the right. I apologize and chase after the ball. My forearms stinging after the hit. Does it always hurt that much? I certainly didn’t expect pain every time I hit the ball. I throw the ball up into the group and it cycles around the circle as girls call out for the ball and hit it. I get quite a few chances, hit it about half the time, and sometimes keep it within the circle. I believe I’m getting the hang of this sport.

“C’mon, girl, the coach is going to be over here soon.” It’s the girl Arabella was talking to. “He’s not going to want to watch you chasing the ball or hitting it to the ceiling.”

“Just worry about your own skills, Christina, I’ll worry about everyone else.”

Coach Booth walks up to our group and stops. He makes a few initial notes on his clipboard, then watches us pass. I feel good about how I am doing; I have hit the ball three times in a row and have kept it in the circle two of those times. The coach continues to watch for another couple of minutes, during which time I hit it two more times, but miss it one time and send it flying toward him another, causing him to drop his clipboard. He doesn’t say anything as he walks to the next group, except to tell us we did a nice job and to keep passing a while longer.

Wham!

A flash, like lightning, fill my head. I feel myself falling but can only focus on trying to figure out what is happening. A hammer strike of pain works up my back as my butt hits the ground. My arms flail trying to help in some way as I continue to fall backward. A dull, but powerful pain crosses the back of my skull as my head strikes the floor. I attempt to focus but my eyes seem to have lost the ability. Once my body stops, I find the floor and work my way into a sitting position. My head is pounding and my butt feels like it is somehow broken, but I continue my attempts to regain focus.

A few moments later, my vision decides to return and I see the five girls standing around me. A couple of them look concerned and one offers to help me up. I take her hand and almost regret the effort as the pain intensifies. When I am back on my feet, Christina is standing less than a foot in front of me.

“Sorry, girl,” her voice sounding more satisfied than sorry, “I misunderstood the coach. I thought he told us to switch over to attacks. I thought you were ready.”

A sudden anger focuses my mind. My head is already hurting, so why not tell her to run full speed into the wall. I could whisper it into her ear and no one would know why she is doing it. Who knows, it might even knock her out.

“That was mean, Christina.”

One of the girls in the circle is on my side? I glance up at the voice, and recognition is instant. The same girl said hi to me as I was leaving the nurse’s office on the first day of school. The first friendly face I saw here.

“Yeah, just because she’s not as good, you don’t have to be a jerk.”

That one doesn’t feel as nice to hear, but I’ll take it.

A commotion off to my right distracts my attention. I see Maddie on the floor, Arabella smiling over her. She must have done the same thing. I need to go see how she’s doing. The coach is walking over to see what is going on. Arabella meets him before he gets to Maddie and they speak. As she leaves, the coach blows his whistle and tells everyone to gather by the two nets. He gestures for Maddie to do the same.

“Next, ladies,” he glances around at everyone, “we are going to do some rotational drills. You will be in two groups, one for each net. You will rotate through each major skill several times.” He starts marching around the rotation as he describes it. “You will serve, then pass, set and attack the ball, here attempting to get it on the other side of the net. Next, you will cross under the net to the front where you will demonstrate blocking. Finally, move to the middle and back of the court to show me digging and passing control. When you have worked through all of these skills, snag any loose balls on your way back to the serving line to start over again.”

He combines the small groups into two larger groups. I am happy to be in the same group with Maddie, except now I am with Arabella, too.

The coach watches our group first, making the occasional note on his clipboard. The drills start out pretty good. At first, I end up missing more than I hit, but after a few minutes, I work my way up to almost half and half. At this rate, I’ll be up to most in no time. Maddie seems to be doing a little better than me at the drills. Maybe she’s a natural at volleyball. What if she makes the team and I don’t? She should definitely quit if that happens. We came up with this plan to work together! She wouldn’t be that selfish. Would she?

After about five minutes, Coach Booth moves to the other group. When my turn comes up to serve, I actually get four out of my five over the net. I move up to the passing area next. This went pretty well last time, I can’t really aim the balls, but I can usually hit them.

Pain shoots through my head again and I begin falling forward. I catch myself before landing on my face and end up on my hands and knees. I see a volleyball rolling to a stop off to my right. Swinging my head around I see Arabella with a large smile on her face.

I quickly work my way to my feet. Maddie is rushing over to help me as well as a few other girls I don’t know. Looking again at Arabella, I see her face has turned into one of concern and worry.

“Oh my gosh,” she rushes over, “I’m so sorry. That last serve got away from me. I feel like such a clutz. Are you okay?”

There is no way that was an accident. What is with this girl? What does she have against me?

“What happened over here girls?”

The coach is standing by me looking for anyone to answer her question.

I open my mouth to tell him, but Christina speaks first.

“Arabella had a bad serve and accidentally hit this girl in the back of the head.”

“That’s not true.” To my surprise, Maddie is speaking up. “She tried to hit her, I saw her smiling afterward.”

The coach walks over to Arabella.

“Did you hit her on purpose, Arabella?”

“It was an accident.”

Coach Booth studies her for a moment, before turning around to face the rest of the girls.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Kara, but it was an accident. Do you need to sit out for a few minutes?”

I can’t believe what is happening. I look over at Maddie to see if I’m going crazy. She looks just as upset as I feel. Obviously, Coach Booth plays favorites. I’m so mad I want to tell Arabella to go punch the coach in the stomach. I’d like to see him take her side then.

“I’m fine,” I answer while moving back into position, “I can continue.”

“Good,” the coach begins walking back to the other group, “let’s get back to work ladies.”

For the rest of the drill I keep an eye on Arabella and Christina. Arabella keeps flashing smiles at me, but each one feels like a sarcastic, “I told you so.”

For the rest of practice, the coach moves groups around a few times and has us demonstrating different activities. Luckily, neither Maddie nor I are ever with Arabella or Christina for the rest of tryouts. At least I think it is luck. It starts to feel like they are making divisions according to skill level. It’s either that, or I am getting much better, because the people I am with now seem to be making mistakes almost as often as I am.

Finally, the coach blows his whistle again, and we all gather around.

“Nice work today, ladies,” he begins, looking around at all of us, “I’m impressed with how hard you all worked and you should be proud of yourselves. Every one of you showed determination and willingness to work out there and if it was possible, I know each one of you could be a great volleyball player, with time and practice. Unfortunately, we can only have so many players on the team. So, while you are changing, I am going to put a list of names on the wall. If your name is on the list, you need to come back tomorrow after school for final tryouts. If your name is not on the list, I thank you for your effort, but you did not make the team this year. That does not mean you can’t work on your skills and practice over the school year and tryout again next year. All of you did a great job today. Thank you.”

I walk over by Maddie as we make our way to the locker room with the rest of the girls.

“What do you think, Maddie?”

“This was hard,” she pulls the bottom of her shirt away from her body and moves it back and forth to cool herself, “it was definitely a workout. I’m not sure we made the team, though.”

“You have to think positive,” I try to sound encouraging, “I was definitely getting better as we moved along, and it looked like you were, too. If the coach is looking for potential, we were perfect.”

“If you say so, Kara,” she concedes, “but if those other two girls make the team, I’m not sure I even want to be on it with them.”

“We can’t let them get the best of us, Maddie. They want us to quit, but we have to stand up for ourselves. Besides, if we make the team, they are going to have to work with us or we’ll never win any games.”

We are walking by the row of lockers where Arabella is changing. She looks tired and is moving very carefully. She turns and sees us, but merely glares in our direction. I pick up the pace a little and make my way to my locker.

“Did you see Arabella?” I whisper to Maddie as I pull of my t-shirt. “I don’t think she made the team. She looks more worn out than we do.”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Maddie responds just as quietly, “maybe she really didn’t mean to hit you and was just laughing because she’s cruel.”

It didn’t seem possible, but I guess it could be true. If someone accidentally hit her with a volleyball right now, I’d probably smile, too.

Maddie and I finish changing and begin walking back out to the gym. There are still quite a few girls getting dressed as we walk by. Christina is dressed but sitting on the bench, waiting for Arabella. At least we won’t have to deal with them out there.

As we approach the list on the gym wall, there are two distinct groups of people forming. One consists of smiling girls, chatting and talking about seeing their name and the other is less a group and more a stream of quiet, disappointed girls walking toward the exit. I don’t know how many are on the list, but it looks like more girls are leaving than staying.

“I can’t look, Kara,” Maddie stops a few feet back, “you look and let me know.”

I weave my way through a hole in the crowd and begin reading through the list. Arabella and Christina are toward the top. A twinge of disappointment makes its way through me at the sight of their names. Continuing down the list, I reach the bottom without seeing either of our names. Not wanting to believe, I read the names a second and third time.

Nothing.

I stand motionless for a few seconds, before jostled out of the way by girls eager to see their names.

“Let’s go,” I walk back toward Maddie, “I’m tired and hungry.”

Maddie begins walking with me as we head toward the exit doors. She doesn’t ask about the list. My body language must have made it obvious. I suppose we are losers, just like Arabella said. I am starting to think we will never be more than nobodies.

“Hey, hold on.”

We stop and turn to see who is talking. The girl who stood up for me is jogging toward us.

“Are you talking to us?” Seeing a few other nearby girls stop and turn as well, I fully expect “no” to be the answer.

“Yeah,” slowing to a stop as she reaches us, she nods, “I just wanted to say sorry you didn’t make the team. I am also sorry you kept getting hit. There is no way those were accidents, I don’t know what the coach was thinking. I can’t stand Arabella. She always seems to get everything she wants.”

“Yeah,” one of the girls who was walking beside us adds, “it was pretty obvious she meant to hit you. I don’t know what her deal is.”

“She’s a troll is what she is,” another girl chimes in, “a spoiled brat who always gets her way.”

I look at Maddie. People are talking to us, and they’re on our side.

“Thanks, everyone, it’s nice to feel like I’m not crazy.” I gesture to Maddie. “It’s like those two girls have a vendetta against us, or something.”

“Arabella’s mean to everyone,” the first girl explains, “but you’re right, she seemed focused on you today. I am sorry, though. My name’s Jackie.”

“I’m Kara,” I speak to the group, “and this is my friend, Maddie.”

“I’m Lauren,” one of the girls who was walking out with us adds.

“And I’m Katie,” the girl who was walking with Lauren says with a wave.

“I saw your name on the list, Jackie,” I smile, “congrats on making the team.”

“Thanks,” she nods, “it’s going to be a lot of work. It’ll be so fun spending so many hours with Arabella and her posse.” Her last words are full of sarcasm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Arabella and Christina coming out of the locker room. It looks like I’m not the only one to notice, either.

“Well, it was nice meeting you all,” Jackie announces before walking back toward one of the groups standing near the list, “I’ll see you in school.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jackie,” I wave, “nice meeting you, too.”

“We should get going, too,” Lauren and Katie begin turning to leave, “we’ll see you around.”

“Bye.” Maddie and I wave as they walk toward the exit.

Maddie and I start walking out of the gym.

“That was kind of cool,” Maddie looks at me while we walk, “those girls were nice.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I guess Mason was right.”

“Don’t let him know,” she laughs, “he’ll never let us forget it.”