Blocked

by Jennifer Lane

  “Susie wasn’t kidding when she said you’re a skilled hitter. I’m excited to have the Lone Star Player of the Year in the lineup.”

  Why is he being so nice to me?

  “But there are definitely some areas of your game you need to improve.”

  Ah. This was what I’d expected. “I know. My passes aren’t very good.”

  “You’re right. We’ll work with you on your technique. What I was talking about needing improvement, though, was your blocking.”

  “My…blocking?” My forehead wrinkled. I thought that was my forte.

  “Yes. You’re not getting to the double block quickly enough. You need to get fitter.”

  Like more muscular? I blinked several times, trying to discern what he was telling me. I already killed it in the weight room…

  “I want you to meet with the sports nutritionist.”

  Oh, Dios! The realization knocked into my substantial belly with a thud: he thought I was fat. I am fat.

  “Now where is that nutritionist’s card?” He dug around his immaculate desk as my throat tightened with imminent tears.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “Brian!” he hollered, and I flinched in my chair.

  The assistant coach stuck his head into the office. “What do you need?”

  Oh, no. My breaths were coming quick and shallow, and I braced myself against the panic I knew would follow.

  “Do you have Whitney’s card? I want Lucia to see her.”

  Brian squinted at me. “You okay?”

  Now Coach stared at me too. I nodded, too freaked to speak. Don’t cry.

  “Lucia, calm down,” Coach said. “Whitney will help you get lighter and faster, so you’ll block more effectively. She’ll improve your chances of actually getting some playing time.”

  My heart raced. Was he saying if I don’t lose weight, I’d ride the bench all season? That would be so humiliating, especially with all of America watching!

  Brian came back in the office—I hadn’t noticed him leave—and handed me a business card.

  “Call her today,” Coach ordered. “I want you working on your fitness as soon as possible.”

  I nodded, feeling nausea climb up my throat. Trembling overtook my body, and I knew I’d lose it any second. “Can I go shower?”

  Coach stared at me like he was about to call the psych hospital. Finally, he said, “You can go.”

  I bolted past Brian and ran to the locker room, praying my teammates had already left.

  “Lucia!” Allison called from the hallway. “What happened?”

  I ignored her. Tears streamed down my face as I launched myself into a bathroom stall. My shaking hands took ten years to lock the door. I’m fat. I’m fat. I’m not fit enough to play on this team. I’m fat. I yanked some toilet paper off the roll to blow my nose. No guy will ever love me…especially Dane. I’m fat. My chest was so tight it was hard to breathe, and I turned to the toilet in case I had to throw up. But I’d only eaten a banana for breakfast, so there probably wasn’t anything left to vomit. I’m fat. I’m fat. I would never eat again if that would be my only shot to play for that bastard.

  Besides my internal fat mantra, it was quiet, and I gave silent thanks that Allison hadn’t followed me in. Then I heard footsteps from the locker area and braced myself against the bathroom stall, but that person walked out the door. I exhaled as I closed my eyes—and realized how tired I was. Morning practice had been grueling, but I thought I’d done well. Coach devised the toughest, most ingenious drills, and it had actually been fun to challenge myself.

  I sighed. It wouldn’t be fun anymore, knowing he thought I was too fat to play for him. I grabbed a bulge of inner thigh and shuddered in disgust.

  “Lucia?”

  Oh, crap—that was Maddie’s voice. I heard the door shut behind her as her footsteps neared.

  “Lucia?” She was close to my stall now. “Did you just get sick?”

  When I looked down at my feet facing the toilet, I understood her question. “No, I’m fine.” My shaking voice betrayed me. I slowly turned around but didn’t open the door. I couldn’t let anyone see me like this.

  “Allison sent me in here to check on you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Damn Secret Service!

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  I drew in a breath. “Yeah.”

  “Are you crying?”

  “No.” Liar.

  “Wait a minute.” Maddie’s voice sharpened. “Coach wanted to meet with you after practice.” I saw her feet inch closer to the stall. “What’d he say?”

  Hijole. How could I admit to the team captain that Coach thought I was too ginormous to block effectively? Maddie probably thought the same thing.

  “Don’t listen to him, Lucia. He plays mind games, especially with the freshmen. Don’t take him seriously.”

  Mind games? His words seemed pretty straightforward to me: You’re fat. Well, he’d used the code words “You need to get fitter,” but I’d caught their meaning. Loud and clear.

  “Hey, I’m going to grab some lunch…want to come?”

  That certainly wouldn’t fit with my never-eat-again plan. “No…thanks. I don’t think Secret Service would let me.”

  “That sucks. It’s like your parents are here with you, hovering every second.”

  I’d never thought of it that way, but she was kind of right. Except Allison and Frank were nowhere near as comforting as my parents, because they barely knew me. I still hadn’t heard from my dad about my new residence.

  “So, will you ever come out of that bathroom stall?”

  I pressed my palms against the cool, safe walls. “No.”

  She laughed. “Okaaay, then.”

  She probably thought I was way cray.

  “I’ll come back and fetch you for afternoon practice at two-thirty.”

  “Thanks, Maddie.” My voice trembled.

  “Hang in there. Freshman year was tough for me, too. Things will get better.”

  As her footsteps faded, I let out a breath. Would things improve? What if they didn’t, once classes started? I’d be stuck at this stupid school for at least a few months because it would reflect badly on my dad if I left before the election. If I bailed, I could just picture the headlines:

  Another Ramirez Can’t Handle the Pressure

  My traitorous stomach picked that moment to emit a deep growl. I glared at my round Buddha belly. “Shut up. You’re the one making my coach mad at me.” It answered me with another rumble. Stupid thing wouldn’t listen.

  After a few more minutes in my stall-haven, I tiptoed into the locker room and found it empty. Thank God. Sweaty clothes fell into a heap at my feet, and I grabbed my towel. The steamy pulse of water pounding my aching muscles had never felt better, and by the time I emerged from the locker room, I felt marginally calmer. Then I saw my new “mom.” Allison hadn’t moved from her spot, but at least she hadn’t come in after me.

  “Maddie told me to give you some space,” she explained.

  My team captain was a total gem. I had to remember to thank her later for being so cool. Between Dane and Coach, I needed someone as nice as her in my life.

  “But I couldn’t wait much longer. We finally touched base with Governor Ramirez, and he wants to talk to you.”

  I inhaled my first full breath of the morning. I wanted to talk to him, too.

  “He’s only got a few minutes till his next speech.” She dialed a number on her secure cell phone, then handed it to me.

  “Where is he?” I asked as I waited for the call to connect.

  Allison glanced at her watch. “Des Moines.”

  “Aldolfo Ramirez.”

  His voice almost made me start crying again. What was my problem? I tried to steady my voice. “Hey, Dad.”

  “¡Mija!”

  I smiled, hearing the affection in his voice.

  “I’ve missed you so much. How’s it going at Highbanks?”

  “It’s great.”
/>
  He paused. “Lucia?”

  Crap. I wasn’t fooling him. “It’s…tough.” I took a shaky breath. “But I’ll be okay.”

  “That coach of yours—he’s giving you a hard time?”

  “Well, Susie did tell me what to expect.”

  “What’s his number? I want to speak to him.”

  My eyes widened. “Dad, no! You can’t call him. That would be so embarrassing. Please.”

  I could picture his forehead creasing as he considered my words. Then he probably patted his thigh like he always did when he was deep in thought. “We’ll table this discussion for later, because I don’t have the time right now. But I do want to discuss your living situation.”

  I tensed. Would he make me move out? Dane would have a freaking field day.

  “The agents told me you’re in Dane Monroe’s house.”

  “Well, it’s not his house, technically. It’s some professor’s house they’re renting.”

  “Jim Thompson,” my dad railed. “The inept leader of the green energy movement that’s wasted billions in taxpayer money.”

  Uh-oh. Nothing could fire up my dad like government waste.

  “How dare they put you in that environment without consulting me first. It must be awful for you, mija. I’m sorry my choice to run for president has made your life so difficult. You can’t live in the dorm like normal freshmen—instead you have to live with my opponent’s son. What’s he like, by the way?”

  “Um…”

  “And I hear Senator Monroe has approved of this?” He exhaled. “I don’t trust her, Lucy. I don’t trust them. There’s got to be some angle they’re working here.”

  Angle? My stomach twisted. I hated the underhanded manipulation my dad had learned to deal with since entering politics. He said all the handshakes and hidden meanings weren’t any different from big business, but he’d seemed way more relaxed running his company than running the state of Texas. And the stress of running an entire country…I worried that overwhelming responsibility would change him even more—and not in a good way.

  “Frank and Allison said it was the only place they could find,” I offered.

  “So you want to live there?”

  “Uh…They said they’ll keep looking for another place, but for now…you shouldn’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, mija. I don’t deserve you—always so sacrificial for the family. I do worry about you. Listen, I’ll tell them…” His voice faded off, and I heard some background noise. “I have to run, Lucy. Listen, I’ll tell your agents to find you another place, and I’ll come there and help you move, okay?”

  “Dad. You don’t have time for that, and I don’t have time to move again. We practice, like, all day long.” I stifled a groan, thinking about another long practice ahead of me in a few hours. “I’ll be okay. I will.”

  More voices in the background. “I wish we had more time to discuss this!” My dad sighed. “You tell me the second you feel uncomfortable there—the second you want to move out, okay? I’ll make it happen.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Love you, Lucia. Bye!”

  He’d hung up before I had the chance to tell him I loved him too. It was a typical ending to our phone calls, with his aides swooping in to whoosh him off to another campaign appearance. I was tortured by the cozy warmth of a memory: my dad hugging me after my high-school team had competed in the state championship last fall. Even though we’d lost, he’d said, “I’m so proud of you, mija.”

  I wondered how proud he’d feel now if he knew I was too fat to play in college.

  “So I take it we’re staying at the greenhouse for now?” Allison asked as she took back her phone.

  I stared at her. “The greenhouse?”

  “Thompson’s house. You know, Mr. Green Energy?”

  Why did the Secret Service have to use so many code words? “I guess.” I followed her as we headed to the parking lot, where Frank waited for us in the air-conditioned SUV. Thankfully there were no reporters in sight. As Allison scooted in next to me in the backseat, she glanced over.

  “Dane will come around, you know.”

  My breath hitched, and I wouldn’t look at her. Was my attraction to him so obvious?

  “If that cocky bastard doesn’t start behaving,” Frank growled as he pulled out of the lot, “I’ll make him.”

  Yikes. I glanced at Allison and found her grinning. “Men,” she whispered. In her regular voice she said, “Let’s get some lunch back at the greenhouse—you must be famished. I’m hungry, and I just stood around for three hours.”

  My empty belly lurched with hope at her words, but I scowled and silently told it to pipe down. I hadn’t been too keen about eating in front of Dane in the first place, and now Coach’s threat would be just the motivation I needed to stay away from the kitchen.

  I stared out the window as campus buildings whizzed by. Classes wouldn’t start for another two weeks, but when they did, they’d add a whole new layer of stress to my life. Right now there wasn’t much action in the hazy sunlight, other than a few students strolling the sidewalks. I wished I didn’t feel so lonely here. Maddie had a bunch of senior friends and probably wouldn’t want to hang out with a freshman like me. I didn’t know Kaitlyn or my other teammates very well. And even if I did, it seemed like a hassle for Secret Service to approve spending time with them outside of practice.

  We continued our journey to my new home, where hopefully Dane would leave me alone. I couldn’t handle his attacks after the morning I’d just endured. My conversation with Coach looped in my mind, and I grimaced, knowing what I had to do this afternoon: schedule an appointment with Whitney the sports nutritionist. Yay.

  Chapter 6

  KAITLYN RUBBED HER SPIKY BLACK HAIR as she frowned at the cards in her hand. “The jack of clubs is a spade? But it’s a club.”

  I wondered if the freshman would ever understand the rules of the game.

  “You Californians,” I scoffed as I crunched a chip coated with salsa. “Such a crime you don’t play euchre in your state. You’re seriously deprived.”

  Josh rolled his eyes and stretched his arms overhead as he leaned back on his kitchen chair. We were at his apartment for an impromptu euchre showdown since Lucia had crashed my house yesterday. Though it was fantastic to get out of there, the euchre game hardly felt as lively as it had last year when Nina and I had partnered against Josh and Amy. Sometimes our games had lasted until the wee morning hours—one of the few times I’d actually had fun with Nina. But Amy, a player on the girls’ team, had graduated in May, and Nina…well, Nina wanted nothing to do with me now.

  “The jack of clubs is considered a spade when spades are trump,” Pete explained, sounding bored. “It’s the left bower—the second-most-powerful card.”

  At least Pete, my current euchre partner, knew the rules. Josh and Kaitlyn didn’t have a chance against us.

  “Dude, that, like, makes no sense,” Kaitlyn pouted.

  I sighed, annoyed. “Josh, tell me you have some beer in that fridge.”

  “Don’t think so, Danester,” Secret Service man Brad boomed from across the room. Josh had shoved aside clothes, papers, books, and other crap so that Brad could sit on the sofa to watch TV, and the burly agent looked totally out of place surrounded by mountains of college apartment rubble.

  “I do think so, Brad,” I countered. “You can’t stop me from drinking.”

  “You’re nineteen. It’s against the law.”

  Josh and I only had to look at each other for a second before we both cracked up. “It never stopped us before,” he said. I knew my partner in crime preferred weed over alcohol, but the athletic department’s drug tests squelched that idea. Josh stood and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll see if I can hook you up.”

  Pete grinned as he pointed at his chest. “Oh, yeah. This adult here will have to show the kids how to drink.”

  “Stop gloating.” I rolled my eyes. Pete had turned twenty-one
in July and hadn’t shut up about it since.

  “Score!” Kaitlyn said. “I knew you guys were partiers.”

  I shook my head. “No way. You’re a freshman, and you’re in season. We’re not supplying you with alcohol.”

  “Well, that’s ruuude.” She pouted again. “You invite me to play cards and don’t even serve me a beverage?”

  Josh had only invited her because he’d run into her at the gym, after our stint in the weight room for the day. The girls had just finished afternoon practice. I’d wanted to invite Maddie, but she was going out with her boyfriend, and there was no way in hell I’d invite Lucia.

  “Relax,” Josh said as he set three bottles of beer on the table and farmed one out to each of us. Kaitlyn’s face lit up as she downed a big swig.

  “Dane, don’t touch that beer,” Brad said. I took a sip.

  When Josh returned to the table with his own bottle, I tilted my head toward the freshman. “Coach Holter will kill us if he finds out.”

  “You’re not supposed to drink, either, Mr. Sophomoric.” Kaitlyn glared at me.

  “Yeah, but our coach isn’t a control-freak fuckbag. And our season doesn’t start until January. If I’m a little slower in practice, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.”

  I heard the sofa shift as Brad heaved himself up. “I can’t be here while you girls break the law.” He pressed a button on the remote. “I’ll be outside with China.” It wasn’t until he was at the door that I realized he’d increased the volume on the TV as a parting gift. Jerk.

  I sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I’ll miss you, Braddy Boy.”

  When he slammed the door on the way out, I grinned. If all it took to get rid of him was alcohol, I would drink lots this fall. But following Brad’s departure, I looked up at three sets of wary eyes. I guessed I wasn’t the only one still getting used to the Secret Service supervising my every move.

  The TV volume was epic. “Secretary of State Bob Cannell appeared in front of the congressional special committee, but he might as well have stayed home,” the reporter said. “I’ve never seen an official of the state dodge and deflect questions about Americans getting killed.”