Let It Be

Chapter 3

That afternoon was my tryout for the volleyball team. I changed nervously into the sweats I had brought from home in the girls bathroom, laced up my old court shoes, and trudged to the gym.

I had quickly understood that volleyball was a big thing at Hartford High School. The school had a club team, so instead of playing only a season, they worked all year long.

The prospect of playing volleyball all year long made me smile, but it was small because of the anxiety. I hadn't played for over a year, though I had longed to be on my school's team in Sacramento junior year. I would have made it, too. Varsity. Now, I wasn't so sure.

Volleyball was my own personal therapy, and it boosted my tiny self-esteem to be good at something. I'd like to feel that again. I could sure use it.

I was nervous about having a new coach. I was nervous that I had lost my talent for the sport over the last year, when I didn't even get the chance to practice. I was nervous about being judged and hated by the rest of the team.

Being with a large group of girls I didn't know was intimidating. It would be hard to integrate myself into an established team, and if I did get a place, I hoped the girls didn't resent me for it.

And as stupid as I knew it was, I was self-conscious because I didn't look like a typical volleyball player. I wasn't all that buff anymore, I'm only average-height, and although I had lost a pretty good amount of weight since I last played, making me kind of awkwardly scrawny for my build, I had the stupidest little tummy pudge. 

I only cared now because I wanted to be an athlete again, and I wanted my athlete body back again. The last two years I hadn't really cared, I had too many other things to worry about than something as trivial as a tummy pudge that tons of girls have. 

If I was still that self-inflicted invisible girl that I'd become, I wouldn't have worried. I'd look at in the mirror every once in a while with a few pokes and a frown, then pretty much forget about it. 

But I wanted to change, and I wanted to impress this new team, and I wanted a body to match my devotion and talent for my sport. That is, if I was still any good.

And as ridiculous as it was, which I was fully aware of, I wasn't blonde. I don't know where that idea came from-- a lot of volleyball players aren't blonde, but brunette or black haired or any other variation.

Not me. I have my striking dark red hair that had manifested from a distant grandparent. It was an insignificant thing I wasn't really accustomed to caring about, but it was bugging me. My hair set me apart, and I wanted to at least blend if I wasn't going to let myself be invisible.

I pulled my long hair back where it wouldn't get in the way, and pushed into the gym. Coach Dunlap-- who was married to Mr. Dunlap, the chemistry and calculus teacher who apparently spits while teaching-- was there waiting for me. Both the girls' and the boys' volleyball teams were there, along with the boys' coach, starting up their separate warm-ups.

"Hello," I said to Coach Dunlap.

"Hi," she said, looking down at her clipboard. "Abigail?"

"Abby's fine. Abby Shea."

"Alright, Miss Shea. Let's get started."

We went to a secluded part of the gym. The girl's all watched me suspiciously as they did their sprint exercises.

Sprints. I hadn't done sprints in a long time. I missed the aching muscles of doing too many sprints in one afternoon. Maybe that's a weird thing to miss, but it's true.

The tryout went surprisingly well. Coach Dunlap worked me hard, doing all sorts of exercises and sets, and I eventually practiced with the actual team. An hour and a half later, sweat matting my hair to my forehead, she called me back over to her.