Whisper in the Rain

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

GRACE

Every morning I wished for the same thing: for my gym teacher, Coach Bishop, to fall ill. I had nothing against the good coach, but just the idea of gym class was enough to give me hives. Literally.

However, in my two months at Triple Oaks, my wish had never been granted. It wasn't that I hated exercise or sports. On the contrary, I enjoyed running, swimming, volleyball, and a handful of other physical activities. What I didn't enjoy was a co-ed gym class filled with people who were out to get me.

I let out a frustrated sigh as Coach Bishop entered, yelling as he wheeled a rack of balls onto the court.

"Fall in line!"

Everyone dropped what they were doing and headed to the front of the gym, arranging themselves in an orderly line of boys on one side, girls on the other. I took my time, emerging out of the shadows of the bleachers at the last second, in no particular hurry to take my rightful place behind everyone else.

"Number off. Ones and twos," Coach said as he made his way down the line, pointing at each student as they spouted their number.

"Two," I whispered as he reached the end of the line.

"Ones on this side," he motioned to the interior wall, "and twos on the other."

We split off as Coach grabbed the two tallest guys in class, Charles something-or-other and Miles O'Fallon, the boy from my English class who had, for some unknown reason, gone out of his way to be nice to me. The three of them made their way to the center of the court and hoisted a volleyball net into place.

Awesome.

Volleyball was something I was actually good at. And aside from someone from the opposing team spiking a ball into my face, there was very little chance I could get hurt. Well, unless someone from my own team decided to trip me, which was totally plausible.

"Wildstone and Hopper, you're up to serve first!"

Great...

Coach tossed the ball over the net and, luckily, I caught it. The last thing I needed was to go scrambling after the ball and fall on my face.

"Line it up," Coach called as I made my way behind the painted line on the gym floor, trying my best not to let a wave of anxiety drag me under. "Let's see what you got!"

Even as my hands shook, I lifted the ball in front of me.

It's just a ball. It's just a net. It's just a game.

Just. Breathe.

After taking one deep breath to center myself, I softly tossed the ball in the air, brought my right arm back, and smack!, sent it sailing over the net in an overhanded serve.

"Nice!" Coach called, clapping as the ball went into play on the opposing side.

Before I'd even had a chance to step over the line, the ball was sailing right back.

"I got it!" A tall blonde yelled.

She bumped it to a short guy with shaggy hair and he tapped it with his fingertips, sending it in a perfect arc right in front of me. I didn't even think, didn't hesitate. I took one, two, three steps and ran forward to spike it over the net.

Point.

"Woo!" My team cheered and I felt something akin to a smile tug at my mouth.

"Nice spike, Grace."