Team Mates by Alana Church Page B

Glassman cleared his throat. “So here’s the situation. Mr. Walton won’t be coaching volleyball anymore. Or teaching, for that matter,” he smiled. “His wife won a bunch of money in the lottery and he quit this morning. So as of about eleven o’clock, I’m the new volleyball coach.”
     
    Several of the girls murmured in surprise, and Stacie had to shut her lips tightly to keep her happy squeak quiet. Mr. Glasssman as their coach? Awesome!
     
    “So here’s the thing, ladies. I was an athlete in high school and college. I ran track. Eight hundred and sixteen hundred meters. But I don’t know the first thing about volleyball. Oh, I’ve watched it on TV during the Olympics, but I don’t know plays, or strategy, or anything else. So I’m going to depend on you to keep me from making a fool of myself.”
     
    He spread his arms, the open, expansive gesture asking for their help. “I’ll let you decide what plays to use. I’m not going to pretend I know the sport better than you do. But I will need to know how to keep from making a fool of myself. So the first thing I want the five of you to figure out is some sort of signal you can flash to me on the bench, so I know when to take someone out. If you or one of the other players needs to rest, or if you think someone would do better.”
     
    “Oh, that’s easy, Mr. Glassman,” said Tabitha. “We’ll just have Jasmine use hand signals. We know how to do that.”
     
    He looked at Jasmine for confirmation. She nodded. “I’ll use our uniform numbers. So if Stacie needs to come out, I’ll signal one-five,” her fingers flickered. “Then I’ll say who should go in, like April, who is twenty-three.”
     
    Mr. Glassman nodded. “That sounds good. You're going to be my eyes on the floor, Jazz,” he said, as she flushed with pleasure, her dusky skin darkening. “The next thing has to do with communication. I know your year hasn’t been very successful so far...”
     
    “That’s putting it mildly,” grumbled Rachel.
     
    “…So if you think of anything we can do to improve, let me know. It can’t get any worse, right?” he grinned winningly.
     
    “Mr. Glassman?”
     
    “Yes, Jasmine?”
     
    “Tabitha should be starting. Not Heather Clark. Tabby’s the best setter on the team. She may not have much of a spike, but she can put the ball right where you need it for a kill. I told Coach Walton that for a year and a half, but he wouldn’t listen. We would have won at least two other matches this year if we had her setting us up. Coach Walton said it was because she was too short, but we all know the real reason.”
     
    Mr. Glassman frowned, looking the girls over. “She doesn’t seem too much shorter than anyone else. Heck, she’s taller than Rachel and Lindsey.” He cocked his head at Lindsey Miller, a small, scrawny girl, but a brilliant student, as he knew from having her in his AP World History class. “Lindsey, you’re not on the team, are you? Or am I crazy?”
     
    “No, sir,” she blushed. “I’m the equipment manager. Mrs. Tipton thought that I could help you learn about the game.”
     
    “Great. I'm going to need all the help I can get.” He turned back to Jasmine. “So if Tabitha is such a good setter, why isn’t she playing?” Carefully blank stares met his gaze. He smiled crookedly. He was used to silence when teenagers didn’t want to answer a question. “Or is this something that isn’t any of my business?”
     
    Stacie glanced at her best friend. Tabitha looked back. “You should tell him,” Stacie urged quietly. “If he doesn’t hear it from you, someone else is going to make a remark about it sooner or later. Like Heather.”
     
    Tabitha sighed and nodded. She raised her head bravely. “Coach Walton thought I was a lesbian., Mr. Glassman. He heard me talking to…to a friend about a girl I thought was pretty. He knew he couldn’t kick me off the team without my parents raising holy hell, so he decided