Team Mates (4 page)

“Girls, I want you to take a look over there. At the team we're going to be playing.” Fourteen sets of eyes swiveled to the opposite bench, where the girls of Ames West bounced around. “I've been watching them. They know they're playing a last-place team. One that's won only one match all year.

“They're not taking you seriously. They're underestimating you. They don't know how good you can be. And neither do you. So how about we give them a nice big shit-burger to eat, and send them home losers?”

Wide-eyed, the girls giggled at his foul language. He grinned and stuck his hand into the huddle. Fourteen hands piled on top of it. “One, two, three...”

“TEAM!”

*****

As the visitors, Ames West had the honor of the first serve. The ball sped over the net and was fielded by Claudia Schumaker, who passed it to Tabitha. Tabitha's set was perfect, and Jasmine hammered the spike home, the ball glancing off of a desperately diving Ames West player and out of bounds. On the scoreboard, one point went up for Roosevelt.

“Yeah!!” Alan shouted, jumping to his feet. Too late, he noticed the girls on the bench staring at him.

“Or was that too much?” he asked sheepishly.

“Coach,” Lindsey grinned, “if you get that worked up over every point, you're going to lose your voice by the second set. Calm down.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said contritely, enjoying her laughter.

Ames West had a .500 record in conference play, which meant they should have handled Roosevelt easily. However, the Roosevelt girls were playing inspired ball, and took the first set, 25-19.

At the break, Alan grinned at their sweaty faces. “Hey, this is fun, isn't it?” He looked at tiny Consuela Barton, her black hair matted to her head with sweat, panting happily. “Connie, you've got more floor burns than Carter's got little pills.” He grimaced at her blank look. “Never mind. Fist bump,” he said, holding his out, smiling as she clenched her fist and knocked it against his. He looked around the huddle. “Anyone tired? Anyone need a couple of plays off? Jasmine?”

The dark-skinned girl considered, mopping her face with a towel. “Connie and Tabby aren't used to playing this much, Coach. You might want to sub them out for a little bit.”

“Right.” He looked at the huddle. “Rachel, go in for Connie. Lillian, sub in for Tabby. Jazz, let me know when those two should come back in. And don't forget to take a break yourself. I can see you're starting to run out of gas.”

“I've won seven matches in two and a half years, Coach,” Jasmine replied. “I'll let you know when I'm tired.”

The second set went much the same as the first. Tabby was a machine, setting up spikes for Jasmine, Stacie, and Rachel with clockwork efficiency. Looking at the opposite bench, Alan could see the other team growing more and more frustrated. It didn't do any good, and Roosevelt won the second set 25-16.

However, led by their increasingly irate coach, Ames West fought back and won the third set 25-21.

“Hey,” said Alan, as the exhausted team huddled between sets. “Chins up, girls. If it was easy, anyone could do it, right?” A few weary chuckles reached his ears. “Listen, they just gave you their best shot, and they barely won that set. Let's close this out and go home. Is anyone else ready for the weekend?”

“Fuck yeah,” came a tired sigh. Alan chose to ignore the profanity.

“So go out there, and kick their butts!”

Alan watched the ball go back and forth over the net, his heart in his throat. A week ago, he would never have imagined a pointless volleyball match between two second-rate teams could mean so much. His fists clenched as Ames West took a slim lead, and he loosened his tie and pulled off his jacket as Roosevelt rallied.

The game went on and on, neither team able to gain the two-point edge which would end it. Trying to get fresh legs onto the floor, Alan substituted Rachel Adams back into the game, pulling out an exhausted Candice Scott.

With Roosevelt ahead 28-27, Rachel served for the win. Her sagging, fluttering serve barely cleared the net, and was easily fielded by Ames West. A tall blond tried to spike it down, but her effort was ruined as Jasmine and Stacie blocked it at the net. Connie dove to the floor, lifting it just high enough for Tabby to pass it to Stacie, who dinked the ball over the straining reach of the opponent's front line, to land harmlessly, just inbounds.

For a splintered instant, the girls on the Roosevelt bench sat motionless, disbelieving. Then, with a mighty cheer, they flew off the bench to join their teammates on the floor, celebrating their victory.

Alan sagged back on the bench, completely spent. As the Ames West coach approached him, he heaved himself to his feet and shook her hand.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Coach Glassman,” said the woman, an attractive brunette near his own age, “but I hope you don't stay in charge of this team long. If you can do that with this bunch inside a week, I don't want to see what you can do after a month or two. We'll see you at our place in a couple of weeks.”

“Thanks, Coach Monroe,” he replied, stunned at the compliment. On the court, the teams were shaking hands. After a few minutes, he followed them into the locker room.

He clapped his hands. “Well girls,” he said sadly, shaking his head. “I'm afraid it's all downhill from here. Right now you're undefeated with me as your coach. We all know
that's
not going to last.” A few tired chuckles greeted his lame joke. “But for now, congratulations!” he shouted, and grinned at the answering cheer. “Practice at four o'clock on Monday, game at Hoover Tuesday night! Have a great weekend.”

*****

“Congratulations, Coach.”

“Lavender! Come in!” Alan greeted the principal cheerfully, but his belly knotted. He was sure he knew what the conversation was going to be about. Outside the door, the girls of the team, having showered and changed, straggled by in ones and twos. Several called cheerful greetings to Alan and Lavender as they walked past, and Alan raised his hand and waved.

“I just had an interesting conversation with Mel Clark,” the principal said softly. She raised her eyebrows. “You don't do things by halves, do you?”

“Better to be hanged for a sheep than a lamb,” Alan replied. “Heather insulted a teammate in front of the whole squad, using language I can't condone. If she makes a sincere apology, she can come back to the team. Until then, she's suspended.”

“Yes, so I heard,” Lavender agreed. “You were very diplomatic with the sports reporter from the
Register
. 'Suspended for a violation of team policy'. Doesn't say anything at all, really.”

Alan shrugged. “I didn't want to broadcast to half the state that one of our players is a bigot,” he said. “Let everyone think she cut class or skipped practice. I don't want to ruin her life.”

“Mel Clark wants to ruin yours,” The tall, gray-haired woman warned. “He wants you fired and replaced by Monday. No, let me finish,” she said, raising her hand, cutting off Alan's next words.

She leaned against the wall, eyes pensive. “I grew up in the seventies, Alan, in a town in Nebraska so small no one I meet has ever heard of it. I was the first person in my family to go to college, and I was so sheltered and innocent I didn't even know what a lesbian or gay man really
was
until I arrived in Lincoln.

“So I learned a few things. Then I learned a few more. Over the last thirty years I have watched gays and lesbians and bisexuals and transgendered people win toleration, then acceptance, and finally the freedom to marry.

“For people the age of myself or Mel, that's a lot of change to handle. Some of us can do it. Some can't. The problem, Alan, is that if you don't moderate your tone, you're going to find yourself butting heads with a lot of important people in the community. Business leaders. Religious leaders. School board members. People who haven't learned what you have. People who won't be shy about asking for your head on a plate. People who think their way is the only way.

“So what I'm asking is, are you willing to cool it a bit? Your willingness to stand up for Tabby is admirable, but is it worth it? Because you're going to bring down a whole load of trouble for us if you keep up this crusade of yours.”

Alan considered for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, I'm not. I have a duty, Lavender, as a teacher. These children are put in our care. How can I let one of them be hurt, simply because it would make my life, or yours, easier?” he said, shooting the principal a keen glance. “I've seen bullies at work. I won't tolerate them in my class or on my team. If that's called a crusade, so be it.”

“Your team?”

“My team, until you take it away from me,” he said steadily. His voice was calm but his eyes were blazing. “Plus, we're teachers. We're supposed to
teach.
Not every lesson comes in the classroom. Some happen right here.” His knuckles rapped gently on the desk. “Tonight fourteen girls saw me demonstrate a lesson in moral courage, if I can toot my own horn a bit. Maybe they'll be more willing to stand up against bigotry in the future. Or at least learn that morality doesn't come down from on high, inscribed on clay tablets.”

“That's your final word?”

“It is.”

“Good, because if you hadn't stood up for Tabby, your ass would have been out of here. I would never consider letting a spineless, gutless worm stay in
my
school,” she said, grinning fiercely. “You did exactly right, and the administration will back you to the hilt.

“So go home and enjoy your weekend. Don't worry about Melvin Clark. I put him on notice that if he tried to take any action against you, he could read about what his darling daughter was doing in the papers.” She caught his surprised expression. “Get used to it, kid. Half of any big organization is politics. Now go home.”

*****

Alan knocked on the door to the locker room, then opened it. “Anyone here?” he called.

Silence was his only answer. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned off the lights, then turned off the lights in his office and locked it. In the gym, only the exit signs were glowing, sending a muted gleam across the burnished hardwood floor. His dress shoes woke faint echoes from the distant walls, and he smiled as he walked down the deserted corridors towards the doors which led towards the parking lot. The school always seemed friendlier at night. Stripped of the stressed-out teachers and the hurrying students, it had an air that seemed almost holy, as if it were a deserted church.

Pushing open the side door, he stopped for a moment and savored the cool fall air. October in Des Moines was usually a beautiful time, and this year was no exception. The last light of the day threw back golden highlights as dozens of maple leaves slowly spun earthward.

With a faint click, he unlocked the door of his car and tossed in his shoulder bag. Starting the engine, he turned on the radio and pulled out of the parking lot, already planning his evening.

*****

“Is he gone?” Stacie whispered.

Tabby nodded, watching Mr. Glassman's shadow disappear around the corner as he exited the gym. “He's gone. But stay quiet.” In a few minutes, they could hear the distant thump as one of the outside doors closed. Tabby sighed.

“OK. We're safe.”

Instantly Stacie caught her girlfriend in her arms, spinning her around. Their shoes made faint squeaks on the gym floor in the darkness.

“Man, that was
awesome!
The way he smacked her down! And you played great, baby! Twenty-two assists? That's ridiculous for your first game as a starter.”

Tabitha smiled and ducked her head as they walked back into the locker room. “I had a lot of help. You played great, too.”

“Thanks, baby.” Stacie's hands changed their purpose, sliding over her lover's skin sensuously. “So, where do you want to do it?”

Tabitha knew waiting for Saturday wasn't an option, not tonight. Not after the emotional roller-coaster they had both been on. As they showered after the game, she had felt Stacie's hot eyes on her, seen the hard buds of her nipples as she lathered under the falling spray of hot water.

It had only taken a whisper and a hint to convince Stacie to dawdle while getting dressed, so they were the last ones in the locker room. All the other girls were busy with plans of their own, and after Mr. Glassman had made a cursory check, they had the whole school to themselves.

“We could go to the library,” Tabby said. She clasped Stacie's buns tight in her grasp and drew her close.

“What about Mr. Glassman's office?” the brunette suggested wickedly.

“You horny little tramp,” Tabby said, and Stacie giggled. “That would just tickle your button, wouldn't it? To know your crush is sitting at the same desk where we did the nasty. Sorry,” she continued. “He locked the door. I already checked.”

“Damn,” Stacie said mildly. She looked around the damp, slightly mildewy locker room. “Well, what about here? We can put some towels down...”

“Right,” Tabby said sarcastically. “If we lay down here we're going to get up with athlete's crotch.” Suddenly, her eyes gleamed. “I got it,” she said. “Come with me.”

Holding her lover by the hand, she drew her down the hallways of the school until they were in the social studies section.

“In Mr. Glassman's classroom?” Stacie asked eagerly.

Tabby snorted. “God, no. I don't feel like getting rug-burns on my ass.” Walking past their coach's classroom, she led her two doors down. Stacie gasped.