Pure Red (16 page)

lime and burnt orange

It has been two days since I kissed Graham at our non-date at China Moon, but I can still taste the chocolate from his lips. I hope he can’t taste the Pink Vixen lipstick that was on mine. He left town the morning after our date to spend a week with his grandparents in Boca. It’s only an hour away, but it feels like he left for another country.

I went to the doctor again today and he cleared me for all physical activity, but he did say to take it easy. How you do that in basketball is beyond me. I’m looking forward to playing ball again, to being in the center of the action.

I start jogging when I round the corner to the court. If I show up as a ball of sweat, then it’ll look like I never left. Dad wanted to come to practice, but I told him to wait until the big game on Thursday. I definitely won’t be in top form today, but hopefully my body will remember what to do.

Well, the sweat thing works and I have to take a big swig of water as soon as I reach the court. A few people are already stretching.

“Hey, you’re back.” Maria stops to give me a high-five.

“Yeah, all better,” I say, and walk over to the water cooler where Coach Parker is standing. I duck my head. “Uh, Coach, can you use
another player today?”

She looks up from her roster book. “Cassia, hi, of course. I’m glad you’re back, and just in time too. We have to win next Thursday to be in the finals.”

I grit my teeth. “I know.”

“Do you have a note from your doctor?”

I hand her my clearance paper. “I’m also wearing a brace, just in case.”

“That a girl! A forward thinker. I like that.” Coach looks past my shoulder, then waves to someone. “Hi, Julia, looking good.” She quickly turns back to me and pats my arm. “Excuse me a moment, Cassia.”

“Sure.” I nod and turn around. The lady making her way over here looks very familiar. I jog my memory: blond hair, long skinny legs, early forties …

“Hi Patricia, how’s your summer going?”

“Great. Keeping busy!” Coach says with her usual pep.

The lady looks at me. Her eyebrows cling together like they’re holding on for dear life and her Cindy Crawford mole winks at me. “Cassia?”

“Ms. Cable?” I can only imagine what my sweaty face looks like.

“How’s your summer going?”

All I manage to get out is, “All right.”

She’s wearing biking shorts and a tank top. Her hair is up in a ponytail and despite the sweat, she looks pretty. I’m used to seeing her in khakis and assorted button-down shirts in primary colors.

“Did you think about some of my suggestions?” she asks.

Did I eve
r
!
I want to scream out that she gave me a major complex, that I can’t get her words out of my head. But something stops me. Maybe it’s the way she’s smiling and has her head cocked patiently, waiting for me to answer.

“Well, I’ve been playing basketball, and I took a ceramics class too. Plus, I’ve been drawing again.”

I look out of the corner of my eye to see if Coach is going to rescue me, but she has her back to us. She’s talking to Maria’s mom. I’m stuck.

“That’s lovely,” Ms. Cable says. “Can you share some of your work with me?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Great. I hope I wasn’t too hard on you, but now is the time to shine. Your junior year of high school is the most important year for coll
eges.”

“Tell me about it,” I grumble.

“I never said it was easy. Why don’t you set up an appointment with me as soon as school starts up again.”

“Okay.” I nod. I guess I can give her another chance.

“You’re a talented young lady.” She smiles.

Whaat? Did I hear her right? Perhaps she said
you’re as talented as a baby
or
you’re a tacky young lazy
.
Maybe she thinks I’m someone else? Could there be another Cassia at Dolphin?

“Cassia, get moving.” Coach blows her whistle at me and winks at Ms. Cable.

I look back over at Ms. Cable before I run over to the court. She tells me to enjoy the rest of the summer.

I’m in a total fog when I find myself inches from Thunder’s backside. I guess her shoulder injury was short-lived. She’s stretching, in the last row. Usually Thunder’s a front-row girl. Not today. I look at her long torso. I know she knows I’m here, but doesn’t say anything.

Liz works her way toward me while we’re doing squats. She leans over. “It’s good to have you back on the court.”

“Thanks. Sorry to have left you hanging with the elements.” I point to Thunder.

Liz laughs and gives Thunder’s back the finger.

“So, did you see who I was talking to a few minutes ago?” I ask.

Liz whips her head around; her ponytail flies. “No, who? Where?”

“Chill,” I whisper. “Ms. Cable.”

“Your counselor came to check up on you?” Liz gasps.

We break into a jog around the court with the rest of the team. “No, it looked like she was exercising. Probably going to the gym inside.”

“So what’s her deal then?”

I struggle to keep pace with Liz. “She was actually nice. Said I was talented and told me to check in with her once school s
tarts.”

“Really?”

I wonder how Ms. Cable keeps all her students straight. Does she have case files on us, like the FBI does for criminals? Maybe she has a task force of minions doing the investigativ
e work.

Coach blows her whistle at us. “Girls, enough chatter. Break up the party.”

Liz moves ahead of me and I find myself jogging next to Maria. One more lap and we all hit the water cooler.

We quickly move on to lay-ups. I look for Baldwin, but decide any of his brothers will do. I grab a ball from the middle of the rack and wait my turn to shoot. Liz is right behind me.

“I thought you had a favorite,” she says.

“How did you know?”

“Please, I know you.” She rolls her eyes and laughs.

“Okay, then watch this.” I run up to the basket, shoot, and miss.

I hear her laughing, but it’s all good.

In a way it feels like I haven’t missed two and a half weeks of
basketball. Getting back in the groove isn’t as hard as I thought. I’m not going to make any official announcements
now, but maybe I’ll try out for the school team this year.
Did you hear that, Ms. Cable?

Thunder sneers at me when I fumble for the ball in our practice game. Otherwise, she’s pretty much a mute, only whispering to Zoey now and then. The fear factor has dissipated after the rumor about Bulldog roughing her up. I mostly pity her now.

Coach blows her whistle and summons us to where she’s standing, next to the water cooler. We all sit down, some on the bench, others on the grass.

“I’m really proud of you guys this season. Several of you I’ve known for a few years and others are new this year, but you’ve all played well as a team.”

Ha
, I want to say.
Have you forgotten about Thunder?

Maria lets out a “wahoo” and soon everyone joins in. Coach waits until the noise dies down. “Let’s kick some butt on Thursday so we can make it to the finals!”

Everyone cheers again and gets up to leave. Coach points to Thunder, then me. “I need to see the two of you.”

So she did notice Thunder threatening me after all.
Hallelujah!
I know I said I didn’t care, but after all, justice should be served.
Bon Voyage, Thunder girl. Apology not accepted and no end-of-the-year trophy for you, sucker!

Coach gathers her belongings. “I wanted to have a little talk. If you’re both free, we could grab a cold drink at Paloma’s Diner.”

I’m half expecting Ms. Cable to jump out from behind the tree with a grill scraper and announce that she’s join
ing us for our first training at the diner. But she disappeared before practice even started, so maybe she had a change of heart. It’s weird to agree to a little “talk” with your coach, but it’s a hundred times better than if it was a school counselor.

“Sure.” I shrug and so does Thunder. We follow Coach across the street. She buys us each a Coke and we sit down
at a table. At least we’re out of the heat.

We all pop open our drinks. Thunder abandons her straw and takes a huge swig; fizz rises out of her can. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand. “No offense, but why are we here, Coach?”

“I think you two have a lot in common, but this rivalry has to end.” Coach scoots her chair closer to the table.

Something in common? That’s like saying lime and burnt orange would be the perfect color combination for a prom dress. I nearly choke on my straw and soda escapes from my nose. Ouch, that hurt.

“Exactly.” Thunder scoffs.

Coach doesn’t seem fazed. “Sometimes we need to look beyond the superficial. You’re both strong women, but each of you needs to trust yourself more.”

What is it with this whole trust thing? First Graham, and now Coach? “What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well … ” Coach points to me. “You’re very talented, but you don’t allow yourself to reap the benefits of those talents.” I look over at Thunder. Her nose is all scrunched up and her freckles look like they’re going to pop off any minute.

“In basketball?” I ask.

“Sure.” Coach gives me a peppy smile. “But also in other things.”

“Well, I really like ceramics.” I swat at a fly hovering above our table.

“Then you should think about pursuing it,” Coach says.

“But you can’t have two passions.” I shake my head. I’ve never seen Dad stray away from his art to “pursue” something else. Who ever thought of Monet taking up ballroom dancing or Picasso playing water polo?

A little boy at the table next to us squeals with delight. His older brother has a spoon hanging from the tip of his nose.

“Whatever gave you that idea? Look at me.” Coach tugs at the whistle around her neck. “I’m a drama teacher during the school year and I coach intramural basketball in the summer.”

Thunder and I both nearly jump out of our seats. “You are?” I say.

Coach raises her eyebrows.

My mouth forms the perfect O. “And Mr. Parker coaches football during the year?”

Coach lets out a guffaw. “Please, his idea of exercise is walking a block to Ben & Jerry’s.”

Thunder and I both laugh. I try to stifle my laughter by covering my mouth with the crook of my elbow, but Thunder lets it all out.

Coach smiles.

Thunder’s face goes back to being lackluster. “This is B.S. I’m not creative like you guys. I can’t even draw a stick figure.”

Coach gives her the eyeball.

“Sorry,” Thunder mumbles.

“Creativity comes in all forms,” Coach says. “If you want to be a good ball player, you have to be creative.”

“Let’s face it. I’m not going to play professional ball when I get out of school.” Thunder leans back and crosses her arms.

“And you don’t have to.” Coach reaches out to her. “You just have to allow yourself to try different avenues, to explore.”

Thunder rubs her shoulder but doesn’t make eye contact with either of us. She immediately resumes the crossed-arm position.

I feel compelled to rescue her. “Yeah, if I didn’t get a total scare from Ms. Cable that I’d be working at a diner like this for the rest of my life, I’d probably be at home watching TV all day. Then I wouldn’t have found out that I liked basketball, or ceramics either.”

Coach claps her hands. “Exactly.”

“Please, you’ve played before.” Thunder looks at me like I’m Pinocchio reincarnated.

“No, really, it’s the truth. This is the first time I’ve been on a real basketball team.”

Thunder twists the tab of her Coke can round and round. “But you’re a good player.”

“Me?” I point to myself. This is the first time anyone’s ever said that about me. Strangely, it feels good.
Watch out, there’s a new Killer Cassia in town!
A chill goes up my spine. “But nothing like you. I thought
you
were intimidating, with all the baskets you make every game.”

“You’re both great players. And you should find your self-esteem on the court and in other endeavors,” Coach chimes in.

“What are you saying?” Thunder rolls her eyes.

“That confidence does not come from relationships, but from within.”

“This is corny,” Thunder says.

I knew her little nice-girl act wouldn’t last.

My eyes immediately dart over to Coach’s face.
Go ahead, blast Thunder for being so rude.
But Coach doesn’t bat an eye. “What makes you think that, Kate?”

“
I dunno.” Thunder shrugs. “I feel like people just give you that bull, I mean, speech, but they do
n’t really give a crap about you. Like one of those feel-good therapists on TV.
Tell me how you really feel
… ”

“Well, you make it hard for people to like you,” I say. Wow, I can’t believe I had the balls to say that. Two points for me! I just stood up to the Big Thunder. I look at her, but she doesn’t respond. For once Thunder is speechless.

I turn to Coach, but she’s twisting her wristband. This is the first time I’ve seen her hesitant. I hope she doesn’t think I’m acting like a wench. Maybe she’d like to call Ms. Cable for intervention backup. She looks straight at Thunder. “Kate, nobody likes to be treated badly, and I’m sure Cassia agrees.”

Thunder rolls her eyes again. “What are you talking about?”

Coach leans over and rubs Thunder’s shoulder.

Thunder winces. “It was an accident.”

I’ve got to say something. Even if Thunder is a bitch, she still shouldn’t let Bulldog beat her up like that. I don’t want to be interviewed after her death and say I knew something was going on, but I was too chicken to speak up.

“Why do you let him treat you like that?” I slide my chair back in case she feels like pouncing on me.

“Leave Ryan out of this,” Thunder snaps.

“I’m here to listen,” Coach says, then adds, “or we could talk afterwards.”