Page 48 of The Keeper
Piper is new to our team this year, a fresh-faced, 18-year-old with a killer leg and an amazing sense on the field. I give it another two games before Mack sees her potential and puts her in as a starter. Her force on the field doesn’t translate to real life, though. She has a huge heart and is incredibly sensitive. Her story about Gina is her way of letting me know she doesn’t judge, and she found a funny way of breaking down whatever barrier I thought I would need to put up between us.
I lean over and give her a noisy smooch on the forehead just as our professor walks in the door.
“Thanks, Pipe,” I whisper, then lean back in my chair and turn my attention to the front of the room.
An hour later, Professor Nguyen has just finished giving us our homework for the weekend when he pulls a sheet of paper out from his briefcase.
“As all of you know, I pride myself on returning exam grades in the class directly following the exam.” The moment he indicates he has grades in his hand, the classroom becomes completely silent. “I’ve organized your grades by student ID number. I will be posting them on the board by the door. Please check it on the way out, and feel free to swing by during my office hours if you have any questions. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.”
The students sitting in the front make a mad dash after him as he steps out of the door, and I can hear a few groans and subdued cheers of excitement. Piper mentions something about seeing me at practice and bolts to the board, while I pack my belongings and trudge slowly down the steps towards the door, as if by moving slowly I can change my fate. When I finally make it to the doorway, almost everyone has already made it out of the room, and students from the class after ours are already trickling in.
I take a deep breath and let my eyes scan the paper by the door. I’m currently on academic probation because second semester last year I missed the GPA minimum for my scholarship. I had a 2.9, and the minimum is a 3.0. My academic advisor and I have a very clear plan for this semester in place, and it doesn’t really allow for any deviation or else I’ll lose my scholarship one semester away from graduation.
Psychology is the only class I’m allowed to get a low grade in, since I’m almost guaranteed A’s and B’s in my other courses, but I still have to pass. So when I spot the C- next to my ID number, my stomach turns over. I needed atleasta B-. I’m not failing psych, but I’ve heard over and over that Professor Nguyen’s finals are the hardest in the department.
My advisor and I agreed that I will need to make a C or better on everything so that my inevitable horrible grade on the final won’t ruin everything. My last few grades have been in the C- range, so I’m still currently safe. But I’m not really setting myself up for any flexibility on the final.
With the weight of my grade just another worry on my mind, I begin my trek across the campus towards the athletic facility, not eager at all to see Mack or add anything else to my list of concerns.
* * * * *
When I’m just outside of Mack’s office, I take a moment to peer through the open door. He’s standing at his one small window, looking outside, seemingly lost in thought. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his tan slacks, his stance relaxed. It’s in this moment that I realize I’m seeing him this way for the first time, as a young professional.
He’s in a blue button down shirt and dress shoes, his slightly too long hair just a shade darker than normal, hinting at the gel he’s likely used to keep it from disarray. He shifts where he stands, his right hand coming out to scratch his jaw. His hand rubs back and forth a few times, as if this motion can alleviate whatever weight sits on his shoulders or solve the problem on his mind.
It’s that back and forth motion that reflects his true mental state. His stance, that at first appeared easy and casual, now appears taut and tense. His arm and back muscles flex as his hand moves from his face to grip the back of his neck.
I knock lightly on the doorframe, ignoring my desire to continue staring at him without interruption. His head whips towards me, his hand falling from his neck to rest at his side.
“Hey,” is the only thing I can think to say, and I offer him a small smile. “You wanted to see me?”
For just a brief second, I see something flicker across his face. But just as quickly as I see it, it’s gone, and I don’t have the time or mental fortitude to decipher it.
“Yeah, thanks for coming.” He steps away from the window, moving towards me at the door. “Come on in. Take a seat.”
He closes the door behind me as I drop into the pleather chair across from his desk. Was it just three days ago that I took a seat in this very spot and stumbled through our first conversation with Mack as my coach? It feels more like three months has passed.
“You said it was important,” I say to him, popping my left ankle onto my right knee.
The way I sit is ‘unladylike’, according to a bunch of people I don’t care about. But it’s comfortable, and something tells me I need to try to be comfortable right now, and ladylike isn’t really my style anyway.
“What’s up?”
“A couple of things, actually.” His tone is professional, which instantly allows me to relax. Thank god. The last thing I want to do is rehash our conversation at my apartment yesterday. Or his moody behavior. Or our kiss. Scratch that…twokisses. Those things need to just remain taboo topics that we don’t address.
“Okay, shoot.”
Mack clears his throat and stares at me, his eyes assessing. “I want you to be an unofficial coach for some of our upcoming practices.”
My head jerks back in surprise, my eyes narrowing in confusion. “You want me to what?”
His reply is to tilt his head and tap his pen a few times on the pad of paper in front of him. He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs in a way that mirrors mine.
“I said that I want you to be an unofficial coach for a few practices.”
“That’s what I thought you said. But I don’t understand why.”
“You told me you want to be a coach some day. I can tell you from personal experience that getting a coaching job without any experience can be rough. This way, Coach Johnson and I can provide some critique that will allow you to have some reflective experiences to draw from in the future.
