Short story #1 : Drama


I slung my bag over my shoulder, almost keeling over from the weight of it, and slammed my locker door shut to stop the inevitable avalanche of papers and books. Today I slammed the door shut with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Today was Wednesday. Today I had volleyball practice.
I waved goodbye to my friends, before taking the longest route to the gym I possibly could, dragging my feet the whole way. I didn’t want to get to the changing room until everyone else had left.
Lost in my thoughts about the Maths test I had just taken, I found I had gotten to the Gym faster than I expected, and I could clearly hear raised voices coming from inside. I sighed, shifted my bags, braced myself, and walked inside.
A wearily familiar sight met my eyes. Two girls, Alicia and Christie, were alternating between glaring and yelling at each other. Mousy Lisette was changing in the corner, trying to avoid catching anyone’s attention, and several others had obviously had the same idea as me and come and gone. Tina and her lot were making very audible comments about the new girl, Sam, who was trying to act as though she couldn’t hear and change as fast as she could, but the clenched jaw and white knuckles betrayed her apparent indifference.
I sighed and hurried over to the bench furthest away from the others, trying to ignore what was going on around me and get in- get out as fast as possible. No such luck.
“Hey, Jen!” I stifled a groan and turned around.
“Hi Tina.” Otherwise known as the Evil-Monster-Queen-of-Death.
“I was really sorry when I heard about your fight with Melanie yesterday. I hope you guys are okay.” The sunny smile and perfect white teeth jarred against the cold sarcasm of her words.
I made a noncommittal sound and almost ran outside. Coach was, as usual, nowhere to be seen; a couple of the girls were chatting to some boys, while some other girls were pulling on the net to see who could make it bounce the furthest, ignoring the creaking posts and fraying ropes. I sighed and reached for a volleyball out of the basket, looking around to see if there was anyone who would pepper with me. The only person I could see was Maria.
Tall, dark, muscly, and as far as I could tell, mute; Maria was our captain. Supposedly. To me, as she pounded a volleyball mercilessly against the wall in her seemingly endless practice drills, she was absolutely terrifying.
We had an important game coming up this weekend. I was actually trying to avoid thinking about it. We had only won one game this season (and that by the skin of our teeth), and if we didn’t win this one, we wouldn’t be going to the tournament.
Practice was, predictably, a disaster. Coach never showed up, Lisette almost broke her leg when she fell over her own feet, and Tina entertained herself by making snide comments every time anyone made a mistake, (which was quite often). I wanted to cry.
I turned up for the game on Saturday nervous, but ready to play. We went into the first set relatively peacefully. (Alicia and Christie had made up, and Tina was feeling sick). And got destroyed 25-14.
Coach was outside having a cigarette, so we tried to pull ourselves together for the next set on our own.
Mary shanked on the easiest serve we’d seen all season. 9 of the 12 players on the team missed their serves. Alicia fumbled a set, somehow managing to throw the ball INTO the net. Maria made a perfect spike, and got it disallowed because Nadine, Tina’s second-in-command, got called on a net touch. I though she was going to punch someone.
We lost that set 25-7, (and those points were entirely thanks to Maria and some lucky flukes), and the next 25-6. It was the most humiliating day of my life. I felt like I was being kicked repeatedly in the chest, and it got worse with every spectacularly horrendous point. In the changing room afterwards, the stony tension was punctuated by outbreaks of bickering, s we each tried to blame each other for the disastrous game.
That night at home I refused to be comforted. I just sat in my room and cried, trying to remember a time when volleyball was fun. When I liked my team mates, when we all got on, when we played well together. When we were a team. I could barely picture it.
I went to school on Monday dreading practice more than ever, and sure enough, it was . . .memorable. Everything was just the same as usual; until Tina went one step too far.
“Lisette, Lisette. Do you think if someone maybe held the ball still for you, you might be able to, oh, I don’t know, NOT miss it?”, she taunted, as Lisette mumbled some unintelligible reply. It was too much for Maria.
“ Do you really think that’s helpful?! With your I’m-so-perfect attitude, and your snide remarks, and your INABILITY to show even the SLIGHTEST hint of kindness to a fellow human being. Maybe you should try acting like a PERSON for once, and someone might actually LIKE you!!”
At this point Tina was almost in tears, but it seemed Maria was on a roll.
“And you two! How about you stop arguing for ONE SECOND and PRACTICE, hm? That way you might actually kind of value to this so-called TEAM! What’s the MATTER with you people?! We used to actually be a team. You’re pathetic! You’re all so concerned with putting each other down, and blaming EVERYONE but yourselves for everything that goes wrong, you sabotage ANY chance we might have of playing well together! Well congratulations. We’re not going to tournament, and playing on this team no longer provides ANY kind of enjoyment for those of us who actually like volleyball!!
And with a scream of frustration, she stormed out of the gym, leaving absolute silence in her wake.
I looked around. Most of the girls had identical looks on their faces, and I recognised the feeling. It was the same as when my mom used to catch me stealing chocolates off the Christmas Tree when I was 6. I felt the same knot in the middle of my chest. It was shame. And I didn’t like it one bit.
By this time Tina had picked herself up. Shaking with rage and indignation, and with a voice thick with tears, she stuck out her chin, looked around, and made an attempt at haughtiness.
“Well if you think I’m staying on this team ANY longer, you are sadly mistaken. I’ve never been treated so - “. But I had had enough.
“Will you just SHUT UP!! For once on your life, this is NOT ABOUT YOU!” And in-keeping with the trend for dramatic exits of the night, I followed in Maria’s footsteps.
Three girls quit the next day, Tina among them. I could barely muster the energy to care.
I don’t know if anyone went to practice on Wednesday, but the game on Saturday, as the last of the season, and a home game, was compulsory. I can’t say any of us were looking forward to it.
The tension before the first set was palpable. Nervous glances, sweaty palms, hurried stretches - we were in no condition to play, even if it was a largely meaningless game. The first set reflected that. Despite Maria’s best efforts, we were down 23-15. But then, something amazing happened. Thanks to some great serving, and some decent passing, we came back to 23-21. When Lisette missed her serve to make the score 24-21, instead of blame and recriminations, she got pats on the back and smiles. Maria looked just as shocked as I felt.
We went on to lose that 25-22, but something had changes. We were communicating, we were smiling, we were HAVING FUN . . . We were a team. We won the next set 25-23, and thanks to some fantastic teamwork, the next the set was ours too, 25-20. And then, thanks to some bad luck, and some terrible setting from yours truly, we lost the fourth set 28-26.
But all I got from my teammates was encouragement and support, and we went into the last set shaken, but in no way beaten. We were a team reformed. When Christie fumble a hit, sending it into the net, instead of allowing her to wallow, I sent the next 3 sets her way. She destroyed them all.
So, with utter disbelief, we found ourselves with the lead. The score was 14-12. One more point. That was the chant reverberating around the gym, with the girls on the bench enthusiastically joining in.
We lost the next point. 14-13.
The ball came over the net for game point, and instead of time slowing down, everything seemed to go much faster than my brain could register.
Maria with the pass.
I set the ball up.
Lisette coming up to hit.
And hammers it.
With a roar from the crowd, and everyone on the team in absolute disbelief, we took the set 15-13. And so the game, 3-2. Everything after that was a blur. I remember being hugged by lots of sweaty people. I remember my throat burning from thirst. I remember feeling the floor burns on my knees start to sting.
But more than any part of that day, I remember the look on Maria’s face. Because I have the feeling it was identical to the one on mine.