“Lucia!” Coach hissed. With trepidation, I looked toward the bench. He held his arms up in the strong blocking position I should have had a moment ago. “Firm up the block! Get your timing down!”
I nodded.
“Breathe, Rez,” Maddie murmured as I joined her in the middle of the net for service reception. “We’ll stuff her next time.”
I exhaled and attempted a smile. If there is a next time. Any second now, Coach was going to yank me to the bench.
The Kentucky player served, and Lynette passed it perfectly to Nina. Maddie approached the net as the pass floated over her head, and Nina softly set the ball just above the net as Maddie slammed the quick-set down. Kentucky’s back-row player dived for the ball, and their setter somehow got it to their middle hitter, who evaded Maddie’s block and spiked it hard toward Nina. Since our setter had been forced to pass the ball, Maddie had to jump in to set the ball to me. ¡Hijole! My first hit as a Cougar. It wasn’t a bad set, and I executed my three-step approach then leaped in the air. Click-click-click. All of a sudden, the play was over.
“Way to go, Rez!” Maddie said as she thumped me on the back.
I was in a daze as we rotated to the right. “What happened?”
“You got a kill down the line!” She shook her head, chuckling.
I looked up to see Coach Holter storming onto the court. Oh, no. What did I do? But he brushed past me and marched right up to the referee.
“Sit down, Coach,” the ref said as she leaned forward to peer down at him from her perch. “You’re not supposed to be on the court.”
“And he’s not supposed to be snapping photos on the court.” He pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Paparazzi. “He’s distracting my players!”
The ref glanced at her male counterpart on the other sideline, and he nodded at her. “You’re right.” She looked at the photographer and pointed to the first row of bleachers. “Move back, sir.”
A small seed of satisfaction grew in my belly as I watched him slink back.
The referee glared at Coach, who still stood near her. “Take a seat, sir.”
Coach Holter surprised me by spinning on his heel and returning to the bench. Apparently the bully could be bullied. As he passed by me, he said, “Nice hit.”
The explosion of happiness in my heart overwhelmed me. I guessed my shock showed on my face because Maddie started laughing again. “He can be a bastard,” she whispered. “But he makes you a great player.”
As one of my teammates prepared to serve, I watched Mr. Paparazzi continue taking shots, this time from about fifteen feet away. Good riddance. Then he lowered his camera and stared right at me, his face a mask of unbridled hatred that made my stomach flip.
Chapter 10
THE HOTEL BED BOUNCED, and I didn’t have to open my eyes to know the identity of the annoying bouncer. Her chlorine smell gave her away in an instant. “Go away, Jess.” I slung a forearm over my eyes and snuggled deeper into the crisp bedding.
“You’re, like, still asleep?” The teeny-bop inflection of my sister’s voice grated on my eardrums. “I’ve already done four-thousand yards!”
“What’d you want—a medal?” I wondered where she’d gotten a morning swim in—probably some local club practice she’d crashed. Unlike me, who played a team sport, she could take her swimming show on the road and train wherever our mom campaigned.
More bouncing, then I heard her chewing something. “C’mon, wake up. I’ve got something hilarious to show you.”
Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My rib was bruised from a collision with Pete in yesterday’s practice, but my fatigue was more the source for the groan. After Mom’s rousing speech at Marquette University last night, she’d tucked Jessica into bed in the adjoining room, and I’d asked her why Dad hadn’t joined us. Why he never joined us anymore. Then Mom had shocked me by starting to cry. I’d been up late into the night with her, trying to console her—trying to figure out what the fuck he’d done to her—but she’d refused to tell me anything. More of her damn secrets.
Jessica’s tight blond curls were wet and her cheeks flushed. She was still young and innocent, and I was glad she hadn’t seen Mom cry. I snatched the egg sandwich from her grasp and took a big bite.
“Hey!”
“I’m hungry,” I explained once I swallowed the cheesy goodness. As I handed the sandwich back to her, I glanced down at the complimentary copy of USA Today by her knee. “You actually read the newspaper? That’s a first.”
She scoffed, “I hate the news. But when Johnnie showed me this picture, I cracked up. I knew you’d want to see it.”
John was one of the younger secret service agents on Mom’s detail, and I was pretty sure Jessica had a crush on him. I gestured for the paper, expecting to see a photo of my sister’s favorite band members dressed in silly costumes or something. She flipped over the sports section and thrust the paper into my hands as she giggled.
Oh, no.
Instead of a boy band, I stared at a blown-up photo of Lucia spiking the volleyball, probably at last night’s match. She looked huge. It seemed like the photographer had been right under her—a perspective that magnified her size—and she wore the fiercest, ugliest expression I’d ever seen on a girl. She appeared nothing like the shy, passionate athlete I’d gotten to know.
“She looks like she’s about to eat the ball,” Jessica said with a laugh.
Could they have used a more unflattering photo? Doubtful. I scanned the headline: Ramirez Unleashes Cougar Fury.
“Aren’t you scared to live with that ogre?” Jessica asked. “She could totally poison you while you sleep.”
“What?” I looked up from the paper to find my sister smirking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced at the words beneath the photo. “They won, I assume.” I skimmed down the article and learned they’d beaten Kentucky three games to zero. I let out a breath when I read that Lucia had chipped in ten kills. Not bad for a freshman.
But I frowned as I kept reading: It seems Governor Ramirez’s daughter has inherited his penchant for aggression. While Adolfo railed against undocumented workers in San Jose last night, claiming their presence has ruined California’s economy, Lucia slammed the Kentucky women with her violent spikes. Woe to anyone who opposes the powerful Ramirez clan.
I squinted. Violent spikes…WTF? Of course her hits were violent—smashing the ball through the defense was the entire purpose of a hit. And the comparison the reporter drew between Adolf and Lucia sounded really far-fetched to me.
Jessica nudged me. “She’s a jerk like her dad, right?”
I paused as I looked at my sister.
“Dane?”
“Her dad’s definitely a jerk. And she follows the same right-wing party line as him, near as I can tell. But…she’s not an ogre—not at all. She’s actually kind of sweet.”
“Sweet?” Jessica grabbed the photo and studied it again. “No way. She looks like an über-bitch.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Jessica looked at me more closely. Uh-oh. I’d seen that conniving grin on her face before.
“Do you…like her, Danish?” Her eyes filled with menace as she drew out the sentence.
Do I like her? No. No way. Right? Then why did I feel a jab to the gut from seeing her pictured so unfairly? Why did I need to defend her to my sister? A self-aware psych major should have more of a friggin’ clue about his feelings, but until I figured them out, I wasn’t about to share them with my family. I pegged Jessica with an unwavering glare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. She’s Adolf’s spawn! No way I could like her.”
“You sound kind of defensive, there, brother.”
“And you sound totally judgmental. Don’t believe everything you see in the news—things aren’t always as they seem. This photo is completely unfair to Lucia. She’s actually really pretty.”
“You do like her.”
“No, I don’t!”
�
�Yes, you do.”
“No, I…arghhh!” I swallowed. “You’re infuriating. I’m not into Lucia, okay?” I’m not into Lucia, I repeated silently. If I said it enough times, maybe it would be true. “I just don’t like it when people portray Highbanks athletes in a negative light.”
She maintained eye contact for a few moments before she pointed at the paper. “It’s not like the Ramirez family will care about this. Hell, they probably like being called aggressive. That Lucia girl will be happy she’s in the national news, I bet.”
Lucia will not be happy. An image of the greenhouse TV room flashed in my mind, when Agent Allison and I had watched coverage of the shitstorm surrounding Lucia living in the same house as me.
“Lucia gets panicked around the media,” Allison had said. “They’ve said some mean things about her.”
My gut twisted as I imagined how Lucia would react to this photo, which was about as mean as it could get. No one deserves that. “Where’s Mom?” I blurted.
Jessica shrugged. “She wasn’t in her room when I got back.”
“Where are my agents?”
“Your agents?” Jessica laughed as she tilted her head toward the adjoining suite. “Wonder Woman and Meathead are in there, eating.” She held up the last bite of egg sandwich and popped it in her mouth. “They tchold me to get you upph for shome breakfash.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” I cringed as I climbed out of bed. “And beat it—I want some privacy.”
That same wicked look returned to her eyes. “You want me to beat it so you can beat it?”
I leaned out the doorway of the bathroom to retort, “You’re disgusting. Go hang out with Johnnie, you little ho-bag.”
“Great idea!”
She bounded out of the bedroom, taking her eau de chlorine scent with her, and I unplugged my phone from the charger near the bathroom sink. My stomach growled, but suddenly I had something to do before breakfast. I found Allison’s number in my contacts and dialed her.
“Is everything okay?” was her greeting.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I realized I had no idea how to phrase my question. Maybe this was a dumb idea to call. “Uh, how are you?”
She paused. “I’m…great. You’re still in Wisconsin?”
“Yeah. We have a day off practice, so I’m coming back tonight.”
“Right.”
Another awkward pause. Pony up, Monroe. “Did, um, did Lucia see USA Today by any chance?”
“Oh, God—you saw it too?”
“Yeah. It was…awful.”
“I have the paper right here, but she hasn’t emerged from her room yet this morning. Frank and I are debating showing it to her.” Allison fell silent for a moment. “What do you think we should do?”
I chewed my lower lip.
“I mean,” she continued, “if an unflattering photo of you hit the national news like this, would you want to know?”
Would I want to know? I wasn’t sure. What I did know was that I’d bludgeon the photographer with his damn camera if anyone ever printed something like that of me. Considering how rumors spread like poisonous gas through a locker room, I clenched my teeth. “She’s going to find out eventually.”
Allison sighed. “I think you’re right. We leave in about five minutes for practice, and she’s gonna want to know how the media covered the game.”
I heard a voice in the background that sounded like Lucia’s.
When Allison whispered, “Shit,” I knew it was Lucia next to her. “This paper?” Allison’s voice rose. “Aren’t you going to eat some breakfast before practice?”
Lucia said something in response that I couldn’t hear. Apparently Allison hadn’t distracted her with the breakfast question because I heard some background noise followed by Allison asking, “Didn’t you read about the game online?”
“I just got up,” Lucia said. She must have stepped closer to Allison, and I could hear the sleepiness in her voice. “I was too jacked up from the game to fall asleep. C’mon, let me see the paper.”
In the ensuing silence, I guessed that Allison had relinquished the newspaper. I bet she held her breath just like I did. Then Lucia’s wail obliterated that silence.
“¡Ay, Dios mío! No, no…nooo. I’m a ballena.”
You’re not a whale! I wanted to yell.
“Lucia, it’s okay,” Allison said. “Calm down.”
“What’s happening?” I demanded. What are you doing? I asked myself.
Allison paused a moment. “She’s shaking, and she’s breathing really fast. She’s holding onto the wall like she might pass out.”
“Ask her if her heart’s racing.”
Allison relayed my question, and I heard Lucia gasp, “Yes.”
“Ask her if she feels like she’s about to throw up.”
“Yes,” Lucia responded to Allison, then asked her, “Who…are you…talking to?”
Allison said, “Dane.”
“Oh, God,” Lucia moaned. “He…saw the photo? Noooo.”
When it sounded like she started crying, I clenched my fists. I wished I was there with her—I wished I could tell her to hang in there. I knew as well as anyone that freshman year could suck, but things did get better. This just wasn’t fair.
Allison whispered to me, “She’s on the floor now,” and to Lucia, “You don’t look so good. Maybe I should take you to the ER.”
“Let me talk to her, Allison.” I have to try to help her.
“I…I don’t think that would be wise,” she whispered.
“Give her the phone!”
There was a rustling, then all I could hear were sharp gasps for air. I tried to remember what my mother used to say over the phone to a psychotherapy client in crisis. “Breathe, Lucia. Let your breaths go deep in your belly. Allow your muscles to relax, let your fists unclench. Float through this—nothing worse will happen. That’s right, c’mon Lucy, breathe…”
A whimper leaked out between her panting breaths. “I’m dizzy. Something’s…wrong with…me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re just having a panic attack.”
“How do…you know?”
“Because I’ve overheard my mom on crisis calls. You feel like you’re going to die, right?”
“Sí.”
“Well, you’re not. Nobody’s ever died from a panic attack. It’s just your sympathetic nervous system kicking into overdrive.” That fucking photographer…he made an innocent girl think she was dying! “C’mon, let’s count to three when you breathe in, and three when you breathe out. Just like your approach to hit the ball. One, two, three…”
I heard a staccato gasp of breath—she sounded close to hyperventilating. “Count with me, Lucy. I know you want to brace against it, but it’s just a feeling. It’s just anxiety…float through it, and it will go away. Cálmate. Exhale completely. Let your shoulders fall as you breathe out.”
I felt myself grow calmer as I practiced the breathing with her, and miraculously, her breaths slowed and smoothed out too. As I listened to her breathing, gradually matching mine, a strange sort of intimacy reverberated between us. It was like I wanted to hold her in my arms. Tranquilo. That’s right, keep breathing, Luz. I felt puzzled, listening to my silent urges for her to calm down. Where had Luz come from? And what would she think if I said it out loud?
“I, I feel better,” she said. She exhaled. “Gracias.”
My chest flooded with warmth as I heard her quiet thanks. I’d barely known what to say to her, but it had seemed to help. “I’m glad.”
“I have to get to practice.”
When a sob escaped her mouth, my throat tightened. “What’s wrong?”
“They’ll see the photo.” Her voice trembled. “Coach will make fun of me.”
Fucker. “He better not.” I drummed my fingers on my thigh and slid my tongue over my lower lip. “Listen, I bet your teammates will love the photo.”
“What?”
“You’re their new weapon. Can
you imagine what Bridgetown will think when they see that photo? You look like a freaking badass. They’ll be scared shitless to block you!”
Her sudden giggle caught me by surprise. It was a lilting, girlish sound, and I couldn’t help but laugh as well.
“So this photo will scare the other teams?”
“Dude, I’m scared of you in this photo. Bridgetown will be terrified.”
When her giggles multiplied, my grin stretched wider. She had such an infectious laugh.
“Maybe we can get that guy to photograph my jump serve,” she said. “Then my serve will intimidate the hell out of them, too.”
“Excellent idea.” I can’t believe I’m smiling like an idiot. Is this awesome feeling because I helped her?
“Ahhh…” The humor seemed to fade from her voice. “Allison’s telling me it’s time to go. See you tonight?”
Wow. It almost sounded like she wanted to see me. And it seemed I kind of wanted to see her too. “Sure. Don’t take out too many of your teammates with your ‘violent spikes’ before then.”
I could hear the smile in her voice. “They better watch out for my vicious violence. I’m gonna get my stuff—here’s Allison.”
“That was the worst I’ve seen her, but you really got her through that panic attack,” Allison said when she was back on the phone. “What’d you say to her?”
“I just tried to channel Dr. Lois Monroe.” I shrugged.
“You did great. Thank you, Dane—you averted a crisis there. We owe you one.” She cleared her throat. “Is China around?”
My stomach grumbled as I looked toward the door. “She’s in the other room, want me to get her?”
“Um, no…I’ll catch up with her later. Lucia’s ready—we have to go.”
Once I hung up, I scrounged through my duffle bag for some clothes, wincing at the bruise near my ribs when I bent over.
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