Page 3 of Did You See Evie

When I played high school sports, Coach Phillips celebrated every win with a meal at the local Waffle Shack. Now that I’m the head coach, I like to continue the custom.

“Can we order whatever we want?” Delilah, one of the seventh-grade girls, is on her knees leaning over the cushioned booth, shouting at me from the other side of the restaurant.

“Sure. Just no coffee,” I say, motioning them to keep their voices down again. “We still have school tomorrow, remember?”

Groans ring out as the girls turn back around, studying their menus. When I was their age, the idea of coffee made me gag, but now it’s all the rage. Nearly every morning, I see students arriving at school with large iced mochas, triple pumps of pumpkin or vanilla or whatever flavor isinat the moment.

“They’re too young to drink coffee,” Joanna says, sliding into a booth.

“You know what these kids are like,” I say, sitting across from her. “Fourteen going on thirty. It’s kind of scary, really.”

This is Joanna’s first season as my assistant coach, and even though she’s been an incredible asset, she doesn’t work at Manning Academy full-time, and she’s still getting used to the inner workings of young girls. Every group is different, each cohort arriving with new trends and dislikes and motivations. The adolescents of today seem far removed from the young girls we once were.

“I’ll take a waffle with chocolate chips and extra whipped cream,” Shana, one of the eighth-grade girls, says to the waitress. Her order makes me laugh. They’re at least young enough to enjoy yummy food and each other’s company. In a few years’ time, they’ll start obsessing about weight and boys, a painful truth that makes me shudder.

As a coach, I’m not supposed to have favorites, but this particular team has inspired me more than ones in years past. When I started working with them last year, their talent was raw, eclipsed by their insecurity and uncertainty. Over time, I’ve watched them come into their own, harnessing their skills to work effortlessly as a team.

“I’ll take the Old Timer’s Breakfast, please,” Evie says. Tonight’s star performer.

Across from her, Beth tells the waitress, “I’ll take the same.”

The two girls sit alone at a booth by the front window, leaning over the table to whisper excitedly. It makes me smile. Reminds me of when I was younger, and my best friend was my entire world. The rest of the team, as usual, circles around Beatrice, Amber and Tara; they’re not the most talented, but they’re certainly the most popular.

The entrance bell chimes again as a man in a dark coat enters. He twists his head from left to right, searching the room, a wide smile spreading across his face when he spots me.

I kiss him on the lips, leaning back to take a better look at him. His jacket is damp from the evening moisture and stubble has spread along his neck and jaw, but he’s still undeniably handsome. This time next year, he’ll be my husband. My stomach does little somersaults every time I’m reminded of that fact.

“That was one hell of a game,” Connor says.

“Wasn’t it?” Joanna says, motioning across the table at me. “Three championships in four years.”

“I’ve been blessed with some talented players,” I say.

“They couldn’t have done it without you,” Connor says, eyeing his menu.

“You’ll have to tell Rex I’m not a total disappointment,” Joanna says to Connor. She puts her menu down on the table.

Connor and Rex were best friends in high school; Joanna is Rex’s kid sister. Last year, after my assistant coach told me she was pregnant and taking a year off, I was scrambling to find a new partner. Connor suggested her for the job, and it’s been a great fit.

“I can’t believe the season is already over,” I say, sipping my drink.

“That’s what we’re celebrating, isn’t it?”

I nudge Connor in his side, and he grins. Coaching is my top priority, something he’s known from the moment we met, but it can be an obstacle in our relationship sometimes. When you’re coaching a sport, you can’t turn off the job once practice is over. Even when I’m home, I’m strategizing new plays, overseeing game schedules and reading about potential competitors. That doesn’t even count the extra hours I put in with practices and out-of-town tournaments. Sure, the season is now officially over, but the job never ends. Connor knows that as much as I do.

The waitress comes over and takes our order. One of my favorite things about Waffle Shack, other than their perfectly crisp namesakes, is the speed with which they deliver the food. Within twenty minutes, the waitress and another worker from the kitchen, donning a floor-length apron, are serving up waffles and eggs to the giddy girls and their parents. It’s quite funny how quickly the room goes quiet once food is on the table.

I use the moment to my advantage, standing to capture everyone’s attention.

“Tonight was my favorite type of game,” I begin, waiting for each player on the team to face me, their bright-eyed expressions eager with anticipation. “It wasn’t a landslide victory, by any means. In fact, there were several moments when I thought we might be bested by the other team. And yet, you managed to dig deep and persevere. Talent on its own isn’t enough. When you face a fierce competitor, that’s when your true ability comes out.”

The girls break into applause. Even the overworked waitress is smiling. There’s something magical about being in the presence of winners. You feed off their spirit.

“Great speech, Coach,” Joanna says when I sit down again.

“It really was,” Connor says, raising his hand to get the waitress’ attention. “I’m happy to take the check for everyone.”

“No, Connor. This is my team.” I place my hand over his, trying to stop him, but he wriggles his fingers away and retrieves his wallet.

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