Let It Be

Chapter 4

Our first scrimmage for volleyball was that next afternoon. I sat in the locker room, staring stupidly at my bag of equipment.

Uniform was our sleeveless yellow jerseys, which weren't a big deal, and those tiny spandex shorts. Oh, those stupid shorts, the bane of my existence.

Okay, maybe not really. But I hated them.

For practice, I always wore my jersey shorts that came down to my knees. Everyone else usually wore their spandex unless we were forced to practice outside in the cold, but it wasn't a big deal. This was different. It was uniform.

And there were going to be people watching now. There were always those boys, and girls, who came just to watch the sexily-fit volleyball girls trudging around in their spandex, entire strong legs showing.

It's like how for water polo boys are required to wear Speedo's. Whenever you go to a game, there are always a dozen boys just strutting around above ground, because it's kind of a requirement that if you have to wear a Speedo, you have to be proud of it. It can be distracting.

And I didn't want anyone to be distracted by me.

"Abby, hurry up!" Mina called, snapping me out of my daze.

I had to go. Making a quick decision, I threw on my jersey shorts over my spandex, and walked out to the gym.

"Why are you wearing those?" Tiffany, team mean girl, demanded haughtily.

"They're the right color," I shrugged.

"They aren't uniform."

"I don't want to traipse around in spandex," I admitted.

"It doesn't matter what you feel like doing," Tiffany retorted. "Coach?" she called, referring to my shorts.

Coach Dunlap looked at them, considered, shrugged. "Just get out there."

We won the game, and partied as we changed in the locker room. Once everyone else was filing out, I walked back to Coach Dunlap's office. "Coach?" I asked warily from the doorway.

She didn't seem surprised to see me. "What's up, Shea?"

I fiddled with the strap on my backpack nervously. "Is it okay if I wear my jersey shorts for games?"

"Not into flaunting your junk?"

I looked up, and saw the understanding in her eyes despite her teasing levity. "Not particularly."

"It doesn't matter to me, Shea."

"Thank you."

------------------------------

With our first volleyball victory under our belt, I was beginning to feel confident with my skills, and it carried over to other aspects of my life. I was almost starting to enjoy my new life in Hartford.

Almost. 

I was trying. It was a heck of a lot better than Sacramento, that's for sure.

Later that week, we had a free period in English, and I worked on an assignment on my laptop.

Something suddenly felt off. My skin began to crawl and panic started to leak in my blood. At least until I noticed that it was just Sam. He was just looking at me, watching me work on the computer, as if trying to judge my character right in the middle of English. 

"Anything you'd like to ask me, or is your x-ray vision revealing it all to you?" I asked him.

"Where did you say you were from again?"

"Sacramento," I replied automatically. "Have you been?"

He shrugged. "I've visited. Principal Hansen said you needed help with the computer program."

"Oh, yeah," I said while turning back to the computer. "I can get it all pulled up, but then it won't let me log in."

After nodding, Sam pulled my laptop to him and began typing on my keyboard. I couldn't help but notice his muscular arms and strong hands, and the red burn peeking out of his sleeve.

"You're burned!" I exclaimed in surprise.

Sam looked confused for a moment, then pulled his sleeve down over it, fast. "It's nothing," he scowled.

"No, that's a serious burn! Are you alright? What in the world were you doing?"

"Nothing," he said, ignoring me and continuing to hit the keys of the computer.

"You need to go to the doctor," I said anyways. I'd had burns before, and I knew how bad they hurt and how easy it was for them to get serious. "They can give you medication for the pain and cream to make it heal faster and not scar."

He snapped at me with an "I'm fine," and after a few seconds I looked away, hurt and scorned. I had only been concerned.

"But thank you," he added after a few moments, realizing he had upset me. We sat in silence for a long time, then he did something strange. He tried to make small talk, as if trying to make up for upsetting me. "Um, so, what teacher is this for?"

"Mrs. Reynolds."

"Humanities?"

"We sit next to each other," I pointed out, not looking at him.

"I know."

He focused on the computer again, and after a few minutes, sat back in triumph, having fixed the problem. Before I could muster anything but a "thank you," the bell rang and he left for lunch.

Sam Durand had really surprised me. Maybe he was really a decent guy underneath it all. Who knew? I started to wonder what was hiding underneath that poker face of his. I, for one, knew about poker faces, and I understood about suppressing everything about yourself... who was to say Sam wasn't the same?

He surprised me again the next day. Sitting in Study Skills, Sam pulled out a sketchbook, flipped to the back half, and started to draw.

"You draw?" I blurted in unbelief. I mean, I knew he doodled, but then again, what bored high schooler doesn't?

Sam didn't look up from his sketchbook. His hand glided with the easy air of someone who'd sketched many, many times. He was obviously someone who was comfortable with a pencil in his hand. Pencil, ink, paint... Was he a closet artist? Like me? "Yes."

"Can I see your sketches?" I asked.

He didn't even look up, didn't even think about it. "No."

Rejection. Ouch. "Oh."

-----------------------------

Once I had helped put the boys to bed that night, Birdie shut down her internet class and crashed on the couch with me. Needing some time to wind down and relax, we pulled a carton of Rocky Road out of the freezer and chowed down.

"Birdie, can I tell you something?" I said, fingering the cold metal of the spoon anxiously.

"Yes."

"I feel like you and the boys are my family."

Birdie put her spoon down and looked closely at me. "Really?"

"Yes. I feel so... so happy here," I said, feeling silly for talking about my feelings, but Tamera kept urging me to open up to those I trust. I trusted Birdie more than anyone in the world. And I appreciated her like crazy, and she deserved to know that. "With you guys. I love the boys, and I can't get over the fact that they love me back. And you, of course, are amazing, and I love you very much."

"Abby, you are family," she said, "no doubt. We've officially adopted you, as of right now."

I beamed and threw my arms around her. It was so nice to be loved. "Thank you, Birdie. For everything."

"No problem, hon. We're so happy you're here." She seemed surprised by how happy her statement had made me, but meant it nonetheless. I was just happy to be there.

She pushed me away and picked up the empty carton of ice cream. "Now hit the hay, girlfriend. It's past midnight on a school night."