Rock Bottom Girl(17)

Marley gave the girls a long look and sighed. It was the sound of overwhelm. Of utter helplessness.

That Hooper jerk wandered by one of the smaller JV players and slapped the ice out of her hand.

“Hooper,” I bellowed.

“What?” she asked, batting her spidery eyelashes.

“Get her another one and don’t dick around with it.”

The girl stomped off.

“I don’t know why I thought I could do this,” Marley muttered to herself.

“Because you can. If you get your head out of your ass and start thinking about the good of the team.”

“Please tell me teaching is easier than coaching.”

I laughed. “Ain’t nothing easy about either one. They’re just hard in different ways.”

“I can’t even make easy work.”

She had a worry line between her dark eyebrows. There was a tiny freckle next to it.

“Maybe if you spent less time throwing yourself that pity party, you’d be able to figure some shit out.”

“Is that Marley Cicero?” Mariah popped her fuzzy head out of the shed window.

“Oh my God. Mariah?” Marley asked, her face lighting up. She slid off the bench and made her way over to the shed.

I watched them share a hug and wondered just what the hell had happened to the Marley I kissed a thousand years ago.





10





Marley





I felt less wobbly and more embarrassed on the short trip back to the school parking lot. Jake walked next to me, making small talk with the students who all thanked him effusively for the treat. No one thanked me for almost killing them under the scorching summer sun.

What had I been thinking?

“You always disappear in your head like that?” Jake asked.

I blinked, realizing we were standing next to my car, my team dissipating into waiting vehicles. I hadn’t even asked them if they were coming back for the second practice. I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

“Hey. Yo, Coach,” Jake waved a hand in front of my face. “You want me to run you by urgent care?”

My stomach rolled at the word “run.”

I shook my head. “No, thanks.” My feet felt like they were rooted to the spot.

“Do better, okay?” he said, frowning down at me.

The frustration bubbled up without warning. “How? How do I do better? I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“You don’t have to know what you’re doing. You just have to act like it,” Jake shot back, looking amused. “You’re holding the wildcard. You’re the adult. You can bench them or send them to the principal’s office. That’s all the authority you need. Now you gotta figure out how to communicate with them.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“I failed a whole lot and felt like crap. Then I did better. You can do better too, hot mess.”

“That is not a nickname I’m going to accept.” Even if it were true. Dammit, I had potential!

“Tough shit, Mars.” He reached out and booped me on my nose. My jaw dropped. I’d been fireman carried and booped by this man, and he still wasn’t wearing a damn shirt.

What a weird ass day.

“See you around. Stay hydrated,” he called over his shoulder as he headed toward his SUV. I blinked and stared after him.

“I’m the adult,” I repeated to myself.

Technically, yes. I was an adult. Had been for many years. But I never felt like I’d actually achieved adulthood. Sure, I carried stamps in my purse. And I could cook food that didn’t come from boxes. And I understood the importance of eight hours of sleep. But did that make me an adult? I didn’t sit up straight in chairs. I still rocked out with the windows down to songs that reminded me of the community pool in the summer.

But I was thirty-eight. I had experience. I’d been through high school and survived it. Barely.

Maybe I could use that? Maybe I didn’t have to be the hard-ass that my coach had been. Maybe there was another approach.





I headed home and dove straight into an icy shower, scrubbing every inch of my skin and hair to remove all traces of the epic puke fest fail. I ran the washcloth over the back of my thigh and thought about the four-leaf clover birthmark there. I’d always thought it meant that I’d be lucky.

So far though, I was still waiting for my dose of luck to kick in. It seemed as though my sister had landed both our shares. Important job with her own assistant. Gorgeous, heart surgeon husband that doted on her. Three well-mannered genius kids.

And here I was, vomiting in front of high school students.

When I got out, I downed another bottle of water and opened my laptop at the dining room table.

“How’d it go, snack cake?” Dad asked, peering into the room.

“I nearly gave the team heat stroke, and then I threw up on Jake Weston’s shoes.”

Dad’s eyebrows winged up.

“Upside, I ran into my friend Mariah when Jake took the cross-country team and my girls out for Italian ice to rehydrate them.”

“Um…” Dad wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “And how are you feeling about that?”

He’d read a lot of “raising teen girls” books back in the day.