Rock Bottom Girl(18)
“Embarrassed. Hopeless. A little nauseous.”
“Well how about I warm up some Hamburger Helper, and you tell me all about it?” My parents were as committed to convenience food as they had been in the eighties.
“Do you want to watch some sports movies with me?” I asked. “I have a few hours before the next practice. Maybe I can find some inspiration?” It sounded stupid. Really stupid.
But his eyes lit up behind his glasses. “That’s a great idea. You fast forward through the previews, and I’ll warm up the leftovers.”
We ate and watched while I took notes of anything that seemed remotely feasible. I was not going to encourage my team to spend all night at a strip club or bond against an evil coach, thank you very much, Varsity Blues. Nor was I going to get a DUI a la The Mighty Ducks. Fun seemed important and music. The music montages were when everyone got along.
I made a note. I knew I was grasping at straws. But I was desperate. I honestly wasn’t sure I could survive another failure. I’d reached for the stars so many times and been smacked back down by the tennis racket of fate. Over and over again. Every time, it was harder to get back up.
Was this my story? Was I just a hot mess?
I yawned and thought about Jake. He was familiar and strange at the same time. The twenty years since high school had clearly been very, very good to him. Of course his attitude was brash, his personality was know-it-all. But he’d treated my entire team to hydrating Italian ice. There was also a good chance he’d run straight to Principal Eccles with a complaint about me. I might be fired before the first day of school. A new record even for me.
I wondered if Jake remembered me. Remembered that kiss…remembered how much I’d despised him after. I obviously didn’t hate him anymore. I mean, I didn’t want to be judged based on my teenage shenanigans so it wasn’t fair to hold his against him.
An hour later, I woke to an alarm thoughtfully set by my father. There was a blanket draped over me and a sports drink with a sticky note that said, “Drink me and have a good practice, snack cake.”
I really didn’t deserve such great parents.
Groaning, I sat up and stretched. I could be the first coach in Culpepper history to have an entire team quit on them. One for the record books. But I was at least going to try to do something good.
This was quite possibly one of the stupidest ideas I’d ever had. Including the time I thought hosting an employee appreciation karaoke event for a bunch of work-from-home hospital billing coders would be great. Introverts, it turned out, do not enjoy karaoke. Or work events.
I unloaded my supplies, closed the trunk of my car, and trudged to the top of the hill. No one was on the field yet. I was still early, but the sense of foreboding was heavy. Would anyone show? Or was this the end of my very brief temporary career?
A human being shouldn’t have this many brushes with failure.
“Do better?” Easy for him to say. He had a team that respected him, students that loved him. What did I have? Looking around the empty practice field I had…not much. I had my water bottle. Two of them actually. A full cooler for the girls who probably wouldn’t show up and my mom’s genius idea of a food storage bag full of cold, wet paper towels for sweat-mopping during breaks.
Plopping down on the hot metal bench, I waited. The sky was full of dull, gray, humidity-laden clouds. We could use a good rainstorm. My parents’ yard was turning brown. The Hostetters’ lawn was still a brilliant emerald green. Either their lawn service worked mid-summer miracles, or swan shit was the caviar of fertilizers.
Enough wallowing and whining, I decided. It was time to count the ol’ blessings.
I had a car that ran and cooled and heated—even though I couldn’t afford the payments. I had my parents and my sister. My health, such as it was, I thought, pinching the flesh at my waistband. I hadn’t been unceremoniously fired this afternoon. I was kind of like a human version of Schrodinger’s cat, both fired and unfired. Employed and unemployed. But in this exact moment, I was okay.
A car door slammed in the parking lot, and I perked up. Another door slammed, and my heart burst into a hopeful little ditty. Was that a giggle? God, half my team was the giggling little sister from Pride & Prejudice that I’d wanted to punch in the giggling face. But I could forgive them for that since they were showing up.
One by one, they wandered up the hill. In groups and twosomes, gabbing as if I hadn’t almost put them all in the hospital this morning.
All was forgiven.
11
Marley
Nothing was forgiven. They lined up in front of me and eyed me suspiciously in that way only teenage girls can. With disgust and pity and annoyance in their mascaraed eyes. Ah, youth.
“Since we had such a rough morning—” I began.
“You mean puke fest,” one of the girls interjected helpfully.
Ha. Hilarious. I was already well aware of the fact that I’d committed the ultimate faux pas when it came to being in charge of teenagers. I’d shown my weakness, exposed my underbelly.
“Anyway. I thought we’d have a little fun this afternoon with a scrimmage.” Were those actual smiles on their judgmental little faces? It felt like a very small, very satisfying win. I’d loved scrimmaging when I played. We got to let loose and forget about drills and just play the damn game. For fun. And I’d hoped that feeling was mutual with this generation.