Team Mates by Alana Church

 

     
     
Team Mates
     
    By Alana Church
     
    Copyright 2015 Alana Church
     
    Artwork by Moira Nelligar
     
    == || < > || ==
     
    ~~ All characters in this book are 18 or over. ~~
     
    == || < > || ==
     
     
    “Alan, do you have a minute?”
     
    Alan Glassman looked up from the pile of essays he was grading. It was one of his two free periods at Theodore Roosevelt High School in Des Moines, and he was surprised to see Lavender Tipton, the school’s principal, standing in the doorway of his classroom.
     
    “Sure, Mrs. Tipton. Come on in.”
     
    “Call me Lavender, please.” A tall, graceful woman in her early fifties, she leaned against a wall and studied Alan as he rose. “Tell me, have you been by the faculty lounge this morning?”
     
    Alan shook his head. “I’m trying to get ahead on my grading. I never imagined there would be so much gruntwork involved in being a teacher,” he said with a rueful smile. “I love doing the actual classwork, helping kids learn, but all this…” he waved his hand at the pile of papers on his desk.
     
    Lavender laughed, shaking her head. “I know exactly how you feel. I started out in math, myself, before I moved to administration. At least grading was easier for me. There’s a right answer in math. And I didn’t have to worry about essays and term papers. Just midterms and final exams. Of course,” she continued, “you don't have to check geometry and calculus proofs in civics.”
     
    “Thank God for that,” Alan said with a crooked smile. “I gave up on math once the numbers started acting silly.”
     
    “Anyway, the reason I'm up here,” Lavender said, “is because I wanted to talk to you about your duties here in the school.”
     
    Alan frowned. “Have I been doing something wrong?” he asked nervously. “I know I'm new here, but-”
     
    She waved an elegant, well-manicured hand. “No, no. Nothing like that. We’re very happy with how you’ve been filling in for Martha while she's on maternity leave.”
     
    Alan sighed in relief. After three years of failed interviews, he had been thrilled to score a position as a long-term substitute. He knew doing well could help him find a full-time position, if not at this school, at one of the others in town. And even if the Des Moines School District didn’t hire him, the experience would certainly look good on his resume.
     
    “So what’s going on?” he asked, unable to think of a reason why Lavender would be in his classroom.
     
    “You need to keep your ear to the ground, Alan,” she smiled. “Heck, the lounge is only a few steps down the hall. If you had dropped by, you’d know Jerry Walton’s wife won a ton of money on the lottery over the weekend. He’s in his office right now, packing up. He’s been burnt out for years, and the first thing he did when he got to school today was stop by my office and quit.” She grimaced. “If I wanted to, I could make a stink about it with the teacher’s union. But there’s no use trying to force someone to teach who doesn’t want to. I can find subs to handle his classes until I can find a long-term solution.”
     
    “So where do I come in?” Alan asked. He felt he was running around three steps behind in the conversation.
     
    “We need a new volleyball coach,” said Lavender. “Or at least someone who can pretend to be one for a few weeks. You were an athlete in college, right? I know you said you would be willing to coach. I just took a look at the application you sent us when you applied for the AP History position last year.”
     
    “Well, yeah,” Alan stammered. “But that was track. I’ve never played a team sport. Not at a high level. Or coached. And I don’t know the first thing about volleyball.” His eyes widened. “Oh, God,” he said. “This is girls’ volleyball , right?”
     
    “Relax, Alan,” Lavender said. “We don't have a problem with male teachers coaching female athletes. If we did, Jerry would never have