Page 29 of Brutal Days

Stephanie glared. Anne was a sucky writer and did a shit job of researching, which left her without the right questions to ask or the ability to craft the best article.

“No. It stays with you. Tell your job that you can’t work during home games.”

Stephanie directed her dictator glare at Mitch. “You’ll cover the away games, and Anne will take the rare practice we need to run a spot on.”

I could barely pay attention to the rest of the meeting.

Gym was ridiculous. I didn’t count it as a class, nor should the school. I had a high GPA, but it could affect my score if I didn’t get an A in gym, which pissed me off. Not everyone was an athlete.

I sat in the bleachers with Gia as her teacher went over volleyball rules we all knew. Both our gym classes had been combined for a tournament of sorts. Having her in class with me, even temporarily, was the only good thing about it.

Banners with years of wins for sports ranging from football to golf hung from the ceilings and on available wall space above the bleachers. Every once in a while, I glanced in Jessica’s direction. She sat next to two sophomores, Tina and another girl whose name I couldn’t remember. I didn’t like the evil look on Jessica’s face or the sheer glee on the other girls’ faces either. They were plotting something, and I needed to keep my guard up.

Gia elbowed me, and I turned toward her. She hated athletic stuff just as much as I did. Neither one of us was exceptionally skilled at team sports. As names were called, people trudged down the steps to get into their designated teams. That was better than having a captain who picked their teammates—one thing to be happy about anyway.

“I hope we’re on the same team,” Gia whispered.

I snorted because that probably wasn’t the best idea. “We both suck, though.”

A smile flitted around the edges of her lips. “Who cares? We would have more fun that way.”

She wasn’t kidding.

“Gia Moretti,” her gym teacher called in his deep tone. Visually, he searched until his eyes landed on Gia, who’d jumped at the sound of her name.

My hands curled around the edge of the bleacher seat. After another few minutes, I was called. I grinned because luck would have it that we were on the same team. It sucked for the athletic kids on our team, but it would make class go by faster for us.

From the corner of my eye, I kept track of Jessica and her younger minions as I made my way down. Her expression held a calculating twist to her lips that I wouldn’t ignore when we played against whatever team she was on.

Another few minutes, and the rest of the teams were established, and we were assigned courts in the fieldhouse. Rachel Jeffers appointed herself captain of our team. No one opposed since she was on the actual volleyball team.

We got into formation and would rotate positions whenever she told us to—or after someone made a point?I wasn’t listening during the rules or when Rachel said what we were doing. She had to point to a spot on the floor when I stood in the wrong place.Ugh.I wasn’t usually so helpless. It was just one of those days when I would’ve loved to blow off school and stay home reading all day.

A whistle blew, and the games were underway. I did my best to stay out of range of the ball, as did Gia. I caught her eye a few times and shared a sly smile. We might actually be okay. Rachel was kicking ass, as were the three guys on our team. It took the pressure off Gia and me.

“Skylar!”

Shit.I instinctively held my hands up. The ball hit my open palms.

Jack dove in front of me when the ball bounced off me and went nowhere. His fist made contact, and the ball was airborne. Rachel leaped up and spiked it to the other side. Our opponents missed, and it was a point for us. Rachel and Jack turned and glared.

I shrugged. They’d learned I sucked.Yay, team!

I would have to fake a sprained ankle or something and be forced to write a paper on volleyball for a grade rather than participate. I was okay with that.Why can’t we pick and choose what we want to do?

I shifted to where Rachel barked for me to go, my mind still wandering. I was fine with swimming, yoga, or anything involving running. Team sports were the problem. Hand-eye coordination, maybe. Or I just wasn’t a team player. That was probably the majority of the problem.

We shifted positions again after Jack scored, and I found myself at the net. Gia was in the unfortunate position of serving the ball. I winced when her first attempt flopped and fell shy of the net—on our side. She tried again, and by some miracle, the ball made it over by half an inch.

Our teammates compensated for us by getting into our space and taking the shots, hits, spikes—whatever the correct term was—instead of me or Gia. Things were going well until we rotated opponents. Jessica got into position on the other side of the net from Gia, who was in the back, middle for the new match.Or is it game? Who the hell cares?

Jessica’s team had the ball. The serve sailed over the net, and Mark’s fists set it for Rachel. She jumped and spiked it over the net.Impressive.

Gia and I did our usual—staying out of play as much as possible. Until Jessica jumped up, her palm smacking the ball hard. She put power behind the spike, and the ball shot past the front line. The ball slammed into Gia’s head with a loud thud. My mouth dropped open. A couple of our teammates cursed or inhaled loudly. Gia stumbled back a step, her eyes slightly out of focus.

I whirled around. Murderous thoughts filled my head as I stomped to the net inches from Jessica’s pert little nose. My mouth opened to rip her to shreds when a shrill whistle stole my moment. Gia’s gym teacher appeared out of nowhere and ushered her off the court. He asked her a series of questions, looked into her eyes, then told her to have a seat and keep track of the score.

Fuck this bullshit.When the game resumed, I did everything possible to hit the ball, aiming for Jessica. I was highly ineffective. But it was therapeutic for my rage. It went from explosive to a slow, roaring boil. The rest of the class went by in a blur.

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