by Janet Walker
Chapter Thirty
GIRL MEETS BUOY
After school the next day, Tracy Sullivan stood outside the front entrance of the athletic building, waiting. Inside, a small group of girls stood in the lobby, looking at a bulletin board. Tracy wanted to do the same thing—but alone. For some reason, she expected she would not be listed on the board, that she hadn’t made the cut, and for that disappointment she wanted to receive the news in solitude. Occasionally, girls tumbled out of the doors, and each time they did, Tracy looked inside to see how many people were left poring over the board. Finally, the doors fell open and Tracy saw, with a jolt, that the lobby was empty. She took a deep breath and lurched forward. In moments she was inside the cool building, smelled the rubbery waxy brand-new scent of the place, a scent she had come to love since arriving at Beck three weeks ago. A smell she had come to associate with the best part of her day, her most enjoyable class. And Miz Grace.
A pair of bulletin boards hung on the wall. Announcements were posted on them behind glass. Tracy stepped up to the display; a sheet of pink paper stapled to the surface had caught her eye. She stood close to the glass and read the paper’s computer-generated words.
RESULTS: BASKETBALL TRYOUTS.
Later, Tracy would recall the thumping in her head and chest and fingertips, a thumping that mounted until she had scanned the list and seen the number she had worn during tryouts, printed near the bottom: 48. She would recall the surge of excitement that flowed through her body and left her feeling invigorated and, she knew even then, forever changed. She would recall gaping, then looking again at the list to make sure her eyes had not deceived her, then whirling away and pumping her fist once in a quick downward motion and crying, “Yes!”—only to look in the doorway of the foyer, toward the heart of the sports complex, to see Miz Grace standing there, watching, a small smile on her face. Seconds after their eyes met, the woman walked away, making it clear that she had not intended there to be an exchange of words between them—just an acknowledgement of shared satisfaction over the decision she had made.
