Blocked (15 page)

As I scanned the crowd, I noticed
one
person I knew: Allison. Frank was undoubtedly around somewhere, too, along with a couple of other agents brought in for the match. Allison’s hand covered her heart, but she wasn’t looking at the flag. Instead, she glared at something across the gym floor. I followed her gaze and felt my stomach drop when I saw a guy with a zoom-lens camera kneeling close to the referee’s stand. Even worse, he had the camera aimed straight at me. I kept my eyes glued on the flag for the remainder of the anthem, hoping to avoid giving the media any ammunition about my lack of patriotism.

When the anthem ended, the announcer launched into introductions for our opponent’s starting squad. I was surprised how many Kentucky fans there were—probably parents of the players, mostly. Then a rumble of cheers began as the announcer boomed, “Your Highbanks Cougar starters!” Wow, it got loud in this gym. “Number twelve, the starting setter, at six-foot-three, junior Nina Dahlstrom!”

I watched Nina step forward and wave to both sides of the stands as the crowd roared. Thankfully, the announcer didn’t share our weight—just our height.

“Number twenty-eight, outside hitter, six-foot-two freshman Lucia Ramirez!” My face blazed as I managed to wave to the crowd amidst ear-splitting cheers. The fans were probably intrigued by somebody famous playing on the team. I gulped, knowing I needed to live up to my hype.

Mr. Paparazzi waved wildly by the net as he tried to get my attention. “Lucia!” He kept shouting my name right through the introductions of the remaining four starters, making me blush even more.
How rude
. I refused to look his way.

Once introductions finally ended, Maddie approached the net to shake the hands of the University of Kentucky team captains.
Whoa.
One of the Wildcats towered over Maddie—what was she, six-six? I’d been too distracted during their introductions to listen to their heights. And I thought
I
was a freak of nature.

Five of us stepped forward, toward the middle of our side of the court, while the rest of the team returned to the bench. Maddie joined our smaller huddle with a serene smile. “Relax, Rez,” she said to me. “That tall girl was on their team last year. She’s not that great.”

That’s good to know
. It was like Maddie could read my mind. And I liked how she’d borrowed one of my dad’s campaign slogans—Rez for Pres—for my nickname. A nickname solidified my place on the team.

“Okay, let’s get a W for our first game, guys. First play’s a one-four-three.”

We each raised one arm, touched hands above our heads, then swung our arms down together while shouting, “Go Cougs!” I settled in my familiar spot on the left side of the front row with a massive grin on my face.

My smile vanished when I heard the
click-click-click
of the camera. The guy had planted himself just to my left, crouched down by the lower step of the referee’s ladder.

“Rez!” From the middle of the net, Maddie beckoned me forward, and I tried to forget the stupid camera dude as I hustled to the net on her left. Kentucky had won the coin toss and elected to receive the serve, so Nina was behind us, preparing her jump serve. I held my arms up and scanned the defense as the ref above me blew her whistle to get play started.
¡Ay, Dios Mío!
My first college game. Coach was so right that I was about to crap my Spandex.

Nina’s serve screamed over the net, but Kentucky’s back-row player passed the ball cleanly to their setter, who was across the net just to my right. She set the ball to their outside hitter farthest from me, and I shuffled back to crouch in defense. There was no need for me to dig the ball, though, because Maddie’s steel block stuffed the hit. The ball dribbled to the floor on their side of the net.
Point, Highbanks!

I gave Maddie a high-five and settled back into my position. Maddie called out their defense as Nina slammed the next serve down their gullet. This time their setter arched her back and set the ball behind her, to the Kentucky hitter right in front of me. Oh no, it was the uber-tall girl. I felt Maddie join me on the right as we jumped together for the block.
Crap!
The ball went right through my hands down the line, and our defensive specialist Lynette couldn’t get to it.
Click, click
went the camera, unnerving me. Now it was a side-out, and Kentucky would get the ball.
Point, Kentucky
.

“Lucia!” Coach hissed. With trepidation, I looked toward the bench. He held his arms up in the strong blocking position I should have had a moment ago. “Firm up the block! Get your timing down!”

I nodded.

“Breathe, Rez,” Maddie murmured as I joined her in the middle of the net for service reception. “We’ll stuff her next time.”

I exhaled and attempted a smile.
If there is a next time
. Any second now, Coach was going to yank me to the bench.

The Kentucky player served, and Lynette passed it perfectly to Nina. Maddie approached the net as the pass floated over her head, and Nina softly set the ball just above the net as Maddie slammed the quick-set down. Kentucky’s back-row player dived for the ball, and their setter somehow got it to their middle hitter, who evaded Maddie’s block and spiked it hard toward Nina. Since our setter had been forced to pass the ball, Maddie had to jump in to set the ball to me.
¡Hijole!
My first hit as a Cougar. It wasn’t a bad set, and I executed my three-step approach then leaped in the air.
Click-click-click
. All of a sudden, the play was over.

“Way to go, Rez!” Maddie said as she thumped me on the back.

I was in a daze as we rotated to the right. “What happened?”

“You got a kill down the line!” She shook her head, chuckling.

I looked up to see Coach Holter storming onto the court.
Oh, no. What did I do?
But he brushed past me and marched right up to the referee.

“Sit down, Coach,” the ref said as she leaned forward to peer down at him from her perch. “You’re not supposed to be on the court.”

“And
he’s
not supposed to be snapping photos on the court.” He pointed an accusing finger at Mr. Paparazzi. “He’s distracting my players!”

The ref glanced at her male counterpart on the other sideline, and he nodded at her. “You’re right.” She looked at the photographer and pointed to the first row of bleachers. “Move back, sir.”

A small seed of satisfaction grew in my belly as I watched him slink back.

The referee glared at Coach, who still stood near her. “Take a seat, sir.”

Coach Holter surprised me by spinning on his heel and returning to the bench. Apparently the bully could be bullied. As he passed by me, he said, “Nice hit.”

The explosion of happiness in my heart overwhelmed me. I guessed my shock showed on my face because Maddie started laughing again. “He can be a bastard,” she whispered. “But he makes you a great player.”

As one of my teammates prepared to serve, I watched Mr. Paparazzi continue taking shots, this time from about fifteen feet away.
Good riddance
. Then he lowered his camera and stared right at me, his face a mask of unbridled hatred that made my stomach flip.

Chapter 10

T
HE
H
OTEL
B
ED
B
OUNCED
, and I didn’t have to open my eyes to know the identity of the annoying bouncer. Her chlorine smell gave her away in an instant. “Go away, Jess.” I slung a forearm over my eyes and snuggled deeper into the crisp bedding.

“You’re, like,
still
asleep?” The teeny-bop inflection of my sister’s voice grated on my eardrums. “I’ve already done four-thousand yards!”

“What’d you want—a medal?” I wondered where she’d gotten a morning swim in—probably some local club practice she’d crashed. Unlike me, who played a team sport, she could take her swimming show on the road and train wherever our mom campaigned.

More bouncing, then I heard her chewing something. “C’mon, wake up. I’ve got something hilarious to show you.”

Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My rib was bruised from a collision with Pete in yesterday’s practice, but my fatigue was more the source for the groan. After Mom’s rousing speech at Marquette University last night, she’d tucked Jessica into bed in the adjoining room, and I’d asked her why Dad hadn’t joined us. Why he
never
joined us anymore. Then Mom had shocked me by starting to cry. I’d been up late into the night with her, trying to console her—trying to figure out what the fuck he’d done to her—but she’d refused to tell me anything. More of her damn secrets.

Jessica’s tight blond curls were wet and her cheeks flushed. She was still young and innocent, and I was glad she hadn’t seen Mom cry. I snatched the egg sandwich from her grasp and took a big bite.

“Hey!”

“I’m hungry,” I explained once I swallowed the cheesy goodness. As I handed the sandwich back to her, I glanced down at the complimentary copy of
USA Today
by her knee. “You actually read the newspaper?
That’s
a first.”

She scoffed, “I hate the news. But when Johnnie showed me this picture, I cracked up. I knew you’d want to see it.”

John was one of the younger secret service agents on Mom’s detail, and I was pretty sure Jessica had a crush on him. I gestured for the paper, expecting to see a photo of my sister’s favorite band members dressed in silly costumes or something. She flipped over the sports section and thrust the paper into my hands as she giggled.

Oh, no
.

Instead of a boy band, I stared at a blown-up photo of Lucia spiking the volleyball, probably at last night’s match. She looked
huge
. It seemed like the photographer had been right under her—a perspective that magnified her size—and she wore the fiercest, ugliest expression I’d ever seen on a girl. She appeared nothing like the shy, passionate athlete I’d gotten to know.

“She looks like she’s about to
eat
the ball,” Jessica said with a laugh.

Could they have used a
more
unflattering photo? Doubtful. I scanned the headline:
Ramirez Unleashes Cougar Fury.

“Aren’t you scared to live with that ogre?” Jessica asked. “She could totally poison you while you sleep.”

“What?” I looked up from the paper to find my sister smirking. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I glanced at the words beneath the photo. “They won, I assume.” I skimmed down the article and learned they’d beaten Kentucky three games to zero. I let out a breath when I read that Lucia had chipped in ten kills.
Not bad for a freshman
.

But I frowned as I kept reading:
It seems Governor Ramirez’s daughter has inherited his penchant for aggression. While Adolfo railed against undocumented workers in San Jose last night, claiming their presence has ruined California’s economy, Lucia slammed the Kentucky women with her violent spikes. Woe to anyone who opposes the powerful Ramirez clan.

I squinted.
Violent spikes…WTF?
Of course her hits were violent—smashing the ball through the defense was the entire purpose of a hit. And the comparison the reporter drew between Adolf and Lucia sounded really far-fetched to me.

Jessica nudged me. “She’s a jerk like her dad, right?”

I paused as I looked at my sister.

“Dane?”

“Her dad’s definitely a jerk. And she follows the same right-wing party line as him, near as I can tell. But…she’s not an ogre—not at all. She’s actually kind of sweet.”

“
Sweet?”
Jessica grabbed the photo and studied it again. “No way. She looks like an über-bitch.”