Page 10

NINE

It’s Friday night, and Joanna and I are standing at the front lobby, waiting for our players to arrive. What should be a moment for excitement and celebration is ruined by the dread I feel about what will happen later tonight.

The parents are scheduled to drop off the girls at eight. That provides enough time for them to socialize, snack and watch a movie before going to bed around midnight. I don’t expect them to go down easily. What girls would when they’re staying overnight in a gymnasium with a dozen of their closest friends? Still, I need them to be asleep, or at least well occupied, by midnight. That’s when Nadia and her team will arrive to steal the tech equipment.

“Pizza should be here in an hour,” Joanna says, looking at her phone. She slides it in her pocket and looks ahead as a car pulls into the lot. “Is the whole team coming?”

“They all turned in their forms,” I say. “None of them would want to miss it.”

Beatrice Nichols is the first to arrive, a stuffed duffel bag over her shoulder. Their parents are scheduled to pick them up at nine in the morning; I can only imagine what nonsense they might have packed.

“We’re the first to arrive?” Lynette Nichols asks.

“You sure are,” I say, smiling at Beatrice.

“Where should I put my stuff?” she asks.

“Just pick a spot in the center of the floor,” I say. “Everyone will be sleeping on the court so we can keep a better eye on all of you.”

Beatrice enters the school building, her excitement obvious, from her smile to the giddy way she skips off.

“I’m a little nervous about this,” Lynette says. “This is Bea’s first time staying overnight somewhere with someone besides family.”

“Really?” Joanna sounds surprised. “She’s never slept over at a friend’s house?”

“Heavens, no.” Lynette says. “You can’t trust anyone these days.”

I’ve listened to other parents and teachers come out with similar phrases. The friendly slumber party isn’t in fashion like it once was for a myriad of reasons, the main one being, in my opinion, people aren’t linked like they once were. Parents no longer seem to have the connections they used to with one another in previous generations, the deep ties. Not to mention, even if you know a child’s parents, you don’t know the other people in the house. Siblings, friends of siblings, neighbors. If I had a child, I’m not sure whether I’d feel comfortable letting them stay inside a complete stranger’s home for the sake of fun.

Nadia and I often spent the night with one another growing up, but that was different. We crashed at one another’s houses to avoid the chaos taking place in our own lives, a different dynamic from having a pre-planned party with snacks and entertainment. As I peer into the gymnasium and catch a glimpse of Beatrice, still unloading her things, I mourn for the little girl I once was, for the experiences she never got to have.

“Of course, this is a little different. She’s at school, where she feels safe,” Lynette says, her words shaking me out of my melancholy. “And there will be so many of them. If anything, I feel sorry for the two of you.”

“Don’t worry about us,” I say. “It will be a fun night.”

“Are you sure you don’t need an extra pair of hands?”

“We’re all set,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder, guiding her gently to the door.

“Looks like we have another one,” Joanna says, as another car pulls into the lot.

Melinda Terry arrives with Amber and Tara. The two girls barely acknowledge us as they head off to join Beatrice. Still sour about the failed waterpark excursion, Melinda doesn’t address us. Instead, she stands in the parking lot gossiping with Lynette Nichols. Every so often, their heads turn in our direction.

Soon other members of the team arrive. Connie and Shana and Delilah. Beth’s mother is the last to arrive, dropping off both her daughter and Evie.

“Evie’s mother couldn’t make it?” I ask her, after the girls have taken off.

“She’s working, apparently,” Beth’s mother says. “Poor Evie was worried she wouldn’t have a ride to the school.”

“One of us could have picked her up,” Joanna says.

“It’s not a problem,” Beth’s mother says, walking back to her car. “It’s good for Beth to have a friend.”

I watch as Evie and Beth roll out their sleeping bags and blankets, side by side. Their friendship, once again, reminds me of the connection I had with Nadia.

My phone buzzes in my pocket—another reminder about tonight’s plan—and my stomach turns. I never would have thought our friendship, once innocent and uplifting, would turn to this.

* * *

By nine thirty, everyone is eating the last of the pizza. Joanna went into my office to prepare a bag of popcorn for the film we’re about to watch. The buttery scent lingers in the air as she walks past.

I’m not sure what I was expecting. It’s not like I had this type of adventure during my own youth, but I’d imagined the girls would be a little more active. Maybe running around the gymnasium doing tricks or playing a loud game of charades. Even a good-natured game of truth or dare. Instead, the thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds are broken off into different pods, each of them staring at their phones.

Manning Academy’s no cell-phone policy during school hours is strict, but that doesn’t extend to after-school events, and the girls are soaking up the opportunity. Every so often, they’ll jump up and start recording silly dances, but most of the time they’re just staring at the screens, laughing.

“Rocking party, huh?” Joanna says, her eyebrows raised.

“It’s really sad. They’re addicted to those things and don’t even see it. Problem is, sometimes I think I’m as bad as they are.” My phone pings in my pocket, and Joanna nods. “See what I mean?”

It’s another message from Nadia: Leave the back door propped open. Will arrive after midnight.

As if she hasn’t given me the same instructions time and time again. I wonder if she’s waiting for me to forfeit at the last second. Then again, she knows I can’t do that. I won’t. My present job is too valuable to risk losing it on account of my past.

“Is that Connor?” Joanna asks, still staring at me.

“No,” I say, stuffing the phone into my pocket, as if she’ll somehow figure out I’m lying. “Just some stupid notification.”

“Rex said the two of them were hanging out tonight,” she says. “You know, since we’re booked.”

“That’s good,” I say. Connor hadn’t mentioned his plans, but we’ve been so busy the past couple of weeks getting ready for the championship game. Anytime we’re around his friends these days, we’re usually talking about the wedding. I’m happy the guys will finally have a night to themselves.

“I guess we should start the movie,” Joanna says. “Maybe they’ll fall asleep faster with it on.”

“Or maybe we should spike their Gatorades with melatonin,” I joke, trying to break the tension I feel all around me. When I look up at Joanna, I see she’s barely listening to me, her eyes watching the girls in a distracted daze. Maybe I’m not the only one with things on my mind.

“Everything okay with you?”

Joanna flits her head at me and puts on a smile. “I’m fine. By the end of the week, I get like this.”

“At least now that the season is over, we’ll get a little more time to ourselves,” I say. “Warm-ups won’t get started until summer.”

Joanna nods. She hasn’t officially signed on to help me next year, which surprises me. I asked her more than a month ago. We’ve had a great partnership this season, and I know she enjoys being around the girls as much as I do, but I have no idea what is going on in her life outside of the team.

“Coach?” One of the girls’ voices echoes through the gym. “Can we walk around the school?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Tara chimes in. “It would be so much fun to wander around when no one is here.”

“And spooky,” adds Amber.

“We’re all staying together in the gym. Those are the rules.”

Even though I would likely want to do the same thing if I was their age. There is something unsettling about being at school at night. I’ve felt it myself plenty of times, when I’m working late after games and practices. An obvious aura shift when all the bustling students and teachers are gone.

The girls groan, their attitudes more pronounced now that they’re no longer vying for playing time.

“We’re going to start the movie,” I say. “Get settled in your sleeping bags. It might be easier to go to sleep than you think.”

The girls listen, although they continue to groan. Joanna fiddles with the tech equipment, putting on some raunchy comedy for the girls to enjoy.

“Coach?”

Evie stands behind me, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks, her face drawn. “In private.”

We walk a few steps away until we’re standing beneath the very goal where she made this week’s winning shot.

“What’s up, Evie?” I ask her, hands on my hips.

“I need to run to my locker,” she tells me.

“You can’t do that,” I say. “I made it clear you can’t be roaming the halls.”

“I know. I just…”

She looks from left to right. Behind her, I can see the other girls are settling down, but some of them are starting to raise their heads in our direction.

“What are you talking to coach about?” Tara shouts.

“Come on, SoEd,” Beatrice adds. “Let us in on your little secret.”

Evie seems to wince at their remarks, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment. I’m as used to the girls poking fun at one another as I am to their nonsense lexicon. Like SoEd and skibidi and rizz. I’m not sure what any of it means.

“Mind your business, girls,” I shout back to them before focusing on Evie. “Is something going on?”

“I started my period, and I didn’t pack a tampon in my bag.” She speaks the words quickly, her volume no higher than a whisper. “I have some more in my locker.”

“I see. You didn’t bring anything with you?”

Most of the girls came with a slew of things they didn’t need. You’d think sanitary items would have topped that list. Then I remember Evie walking in, carrying nothing more than a pillow and a blanket.

“I wasn’t supposed to start until next week. I just wasn’t thinking.”

I forget, too, that most of the girls are still new to puberty and they analyze their changing bodies with the scrutiny of a scientist, while often forgetting the most obvious things.

“I have some tampons in my office. Would that work?”

“Yes.” Her eyes dart to the left again, and I’m overcome with the same feeling I had earlier in the week, after I gave her a ride home from the Waffle Shack. It seems like there’s something else on her mind, something she’s reluctant to tell me.

“Evie, are you sure that’s the only thing bothering you?”

She looks back at the girls before staring at the gym floor. Her posture is rigid, as though she’s uncomfortable in her own skin. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like there’s something else on your mind. I felt the same way at the celebration dinner this week. And when I saw you in the hallway between classes. If something is troubling you, all you have to do is tell me.”

“It’s nothing?—”

“Evie, I know you. I can tell you’ve not been acting like yourself this week.”

She inhales deeply. When her eyes finally meet mine, they’re rimmed with tears. “It’s not a big deal, but?—”

“Coach Cass?” Joanna’s voice echoes across the gym, interrupting our conversation. She’s still fiddling with the projector. “I don’t think this is the right cord. I’ve tried it a dozen times.”

“Let me help,” Beth says, walking over toward her.

“I can, too,” Evie says, turning away.

“Evie, wait,” I say, annoyed that the intensity of the moment has been broken. “I want to finish talking.”

“I’m fine, Coach,” she says. “I just want to have fun.”

Her expression is hopeful, but beyond that, I sense desperation. She’s determined to be as happy-go-lucky and carefree as her peers, keep all the difficult parts of her life buried. It’s something I remember from when I was her age. Even now, I find it easier to lock away the darker parts of myself.

I nod, accepting I’ll have to save our deeper conversation for another day. “From now on make sure you keep some with you in your bag?”

“I will.”

She runs off, her blanket flowing behind her like a cape. I told her that last part because, I realize, she may not have a reliable woman in her life to tell her these things. I know I didn’t. I learned about puberty and menstruation from a health science class in middle school, and there were several gaps in that lesson.

By the time I was Evie’s age, I’d had many embarrassing encounters on account of my changing body. Clearly there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but preteens are easily ruffled, and I want to spare her anything she might deem humiliating.

“Joanna? I’ll be back,” I say, walking in the direction of my office. She waves a hand over her head, still fooling with the projector.

I look at my phone, half expecting another message from Nadia, but there’s nothing. By now, the plan is in place. All I have to do is wait. With each passing minute, my stomach twists with dread.