<Coach Styles>

Eight

All around her, good things were happening. Just not to her. Weddings, births, scholarships, concerts, everything good seemed to be happening to everyone else except for her. Hell, she'd just lost her parents. Why would anything good happen? She felt numb. Like an empty pack of cigarettes. Full of nothing but small remnants of memories and the scent of strength she sprayed on every day she woke up in the mornings. She'd sewn her heart back together so much, it was beginning to look almost completely cloth. She wanted nothing more than to shut herself off from everything. Her parents prevented her from doing that.

They'd always pushed her to do and be whatever she wanted. They challenged her in the kindest ways, using enchanting books and trivia questions to help her think on her feet and for herself. They'd raised her to be kind and classy, only cursing when absolutely necessary. However, she cursed all the time, even if it was mostly in her head. She was working on being better, her mother was the most classy, elegant woman she'd ever know. Long graceful features, voice whimsically British and her fathers was that of a hardworking Italians; full of life with a boisterous laugh and a wide smile. Together, they were like the Brangelina of their social group. Both tall, athletic, and devilishly brilliant, it seemed no one could keep up with them. They were the world to her, until April 29th, her world was ripped away from her at a hospital.

"What do I do now? I can't live without you," she cried, grasping both of her parents hands.

"Take our love and spread it. Spread it to the far corners of the earth and be the change we know you can be," her father replied, a tear streaming down her face.

"We'll always love you, honey," her mother cooed. "Don't forget that. Ever." Three minutes later at 12:17 am, they were gone.It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things**.

Her world had been destroyed. Uprooted and burned, scorched earth. No, a scorched heart that would never cool down. It took five police officers to get her away from her parents and as she waited, handcuffed to a chair, she sobbed. God, she sobbed. It was almost as if she could've re-watered the Mississippi if it had ever dried out. Why did this happen? Why did she make it out alive and they didn't? She was nothing special. She didn't impact the world like her parents did. She was just a basketball player and now an orphan. Nothing special at all.

Now here she was, a month and a few weeks later at a basketball camp at the University of Tennessee. Bags permanently under her eyes as she made it through the four day camp her parents were overzealous to see her go to. Now, they were watching from above. Looking down on her. Or at least, she hoped they were. Every basket she made, she pointed to the sky and sprinted back down the floor. Going to a Georgia Tech and Texas A & M Camp to finish out the month, when she finally arrived home, she slept. She slept like a bear in hibernation. Nothing could've woken her up.

She'd lost weight, 60 pounds since the whole ordeal. She ate less, worked out more, and slept. Nothing seemed to be able to drag her from the slump she was in. Going back to school was the hardest thing. She found herself texting her mom throughout the day sometimes and then the realization sunk in. She found herself saying "Bye mom, love you! Bye Dad! Love you!" and when the silence would fall around her, she'd look at her shoes and walk out the door. When she'd see something online, she'd scurry down the hall. "Hey, mom?" or "Hey, dad?" and again, the fact that they were gone would knife her in the chest once again. Knowing, she'd never be whole as long as she lived.

Playing basketball at her high school, she cried tears of joy when the old coach left, hoping the new one would be much better. And he was. The drills and workouts she'd done with him had helped her more than an entire season with her old coach had. He was tall like her, with dark hair and light eyes, he had a warm smile. Every time he looked at her, she knew everything was going to be okay. He was warm and caring, unlike her previous coach. When she spoke to him, he really listened and didn't judge her. He didn't judge her for anything in fact. Most had looked at her height as intimidating and thought she didn't have a very pretty face. She agreed with them. But, when he looked at her, she felt like she could do or be anything she wanted. He'd brought her newfound hope that the rain fell, the grass grew green, and life began again.** (**movie quote)

Looking up at the clock, we had five minutes left to write and I closed my journal with a sigh. I'd filled three pages front and back with my large, sloppy handwriting and fought back tears that burned and threatened to fall. Looking around the room, no one else was still writing and Coach was sitting at his desk, eating trail mix again with a banana in his hand.

"Everyone done?" he smiled, standing up while chewing a bite of banana. "Good. Does anyone want to share?" No ones hands went up.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Pass them forward and I will collect them," he chuckled. "You all need to lighten up! It's Friday!"

"I have to work," Melanie groaned.

"Where do you work?" Coach asked looking her in the eyes and I saw her slightly blush.

"Puppy Paws on Garlington. I wash the dogs."

"That's adorable. That's where my roommate takes his dog," he smiled. Louis had a dog? What? Watching him walk as he collected the journals, he must've done squats or something because his butt was amazing. High and round like a 'c', it was almost as if he and Louis were both blessed with great asses. Walking toward his desk, he dropped the journals in the drawer and nudged it shut with his hip.

"For the rest of class I thought we might have a discussion," he smiled, sitting on his wooden stool in the front of the room. Everyone was quiet and looking at him. "I thought we might talk about a word that means many different things to many different people." He spun around toward the board and wrote Red in large letters. His ringed fingers tapped the board.

"What comes to mind when you think of this word? Dylan?"

"Um, blood." The class chuckled and Coach even grinned at that one.

"Okay, very good. Who else? Neely? Anything?" Of course he just had to call on me.

"Lust," I smirked, trying not to burst into laughter. "Most of the time when a woman wears a red dress or has on red lipstick, it is seen as lustful."

"Nice," he nodded. "Whitney? What about you?" Hearing other stupid answers, he finally wrote another word on the board.

Love.

"What does love mean to you? Think about it for a minute and then we're gonna go down every row." The class was silent. Looking at the ceiling, I tried to think of what love meant to me. Did I even really know what it meant? Sighing, I tapped my fingers on the desk as he went down the rows receiving some really good answers and some just plain stupid ones.

"Neely, you have the floor," he smiled widely, finally getting to me.

Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the reads! The ** is a quote by Lemony Snicket. It fit in there so, yeah. Comment, vote, share, and have a merry Christmas!!!

xx