The Color of Hope (20 page)
Now it was his turn to wait.
“Stephanie called it right, Marcus. There was a ‘teeny little something there’ . . . on my part.”
He didn’t say anything. Then, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a moment like this. Like there’s this line, and God drew it, and I know He wants me to cross it. But I’ll be walking completely by faith, no idea what to expect. And
yet
, feeling a complete rush because there’s no doubt that it’s utterly and totally of Him.” He blew out a breath. “Or I can stay where I am.”
“Wow. You’re really deep tonight,” she said. “Not sure what it says about me that I totally understand.”
He smiled slightly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just
feel like . . . I want to cross that line. I want us to get to know one another . . . if that’s still what you want to do.”
“What are you saying?” Charley said. “What would that look like?”
“For starters, I’d hopefully see more of the
other
Charley, not the one that’s been cold to me.”
“I haven’t been cold.”
“You’ve been cold.”
He let their gaze linger. “But honestly, I don’t know what it would look like. I told you, I’d be walking by faith. All I can tell you is we’d be looking to God, trusting Him to take us wherever He wants to take us.”
Charley’s heart fluttered at that. “I like that. I’m willing to trust God with . . . us.”
S
tephanie threaded her way through the end-of-day chaos in the halls. Her fourth day, and she was still amazed by the phenomenon. The moment the bell rang, it was as if every ounce of pent-up energy got the signal
Go!
Students shot out of classrooms, staging mini-celebrations of freedom with actual roars—at least, it sounded like it—all through the building. The first three days she had a mind to wait until the bedlam had moved outdoors and onto yellow buses before leaving the cafeteria. But volleyball tryouts were being held today, and Sam let Stephanie know she was going. Stephanie had to get to the gym to ask Charley if she had a chance.
As she walked, she saw a cluster of students gathered by a section of lockers. Nothing unusual about it, except Ben Willoughby was among them. If she’d learned anything this week, it was that Ben had no problem finding himself in the middle of something—and it was seldom positive. This time he had a girl against the locker, kissing her neck, and it wasn’t Kelsey.
Stephanie came to the main entryway, moving toward the gym,
when Marcus flagged her down. She stopped and waited for him to finish a conversation with a student.
“Steph, I wanted you to know we’ve got a permanent teacher for study hall, and she’s starting tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her first thought was she’d miss lunch with Sam. “You don’t need me for anything else, then?”
“Not right now,” he said, “but that could change any moment. You’ll get a call if there’s a need.” He heard his name and turned. “Be right there,” he shouted, then to Stephanie, “You’ve been great this week. Thank you.”
Marcus was off, and Stephanie continued on, finding Charley in the gym.
“Welcome to my side of the world.” She looked gym official with her ponytail and sweat suit. “I don’t know why you haven’t come over here more often.”
“Girl, I was trying
not
to get caught over here. You might’ve made me run a lap or something.”
“You know, that’s a great idea,” Charley said. “You’d be perfect next time we need a substitute.”
Stephanie blank-stared her. “
Anyway,
did you know Sam was trying out for volleyball today?”
“I thought she might.” Charley sighed a little. “She’s been practicing after school.”
“Please tell me she’s got a shot,” Stephanie said. “I’ve been praying for God to really bless her and encourage her in a special way. When she told me she was trying out, I said, ‘Lord, please don’t let this girl be disappointed.’”
Charley gave a hard sigh this time. “It really depends on the overall skill level of the girls who show up, and on how Sam does during tryouts. If she really brings it today and tomorrow, she’s got a shot at making JV.”
“Today
and
tomorrow. I don’t know if I can take it. I’m too
nervous.” She eyed Charley. “Can I give you some money right now, and we can make it happen?”
Charley put her hands on Stephanie’s shoulders and turned her around. “What you can do is sit on the bleachers and watch the tryouts if you want.”
Stephanie looked back. “Ooh, really, I can watch? I could be praying for her during the tryouts.”
“Just so you know, though, it’s two hours.”
“Two hours? After being here since seven? Might have to pray from home.” She walked toward the bleachers, calling over her shoulder, “Just kidding!”
The girls began to trickle in from the locker room—many in volleyball shorts, some in general athletic shorts—and started warming up. A few started passing the ball back and forth between them. Some practiced the skill by bumping it against the wall. Others simply sat on the floor and stretched.
Stephanie perked up when Sam entered. She got a ball and joined the others at the wall. Her ball control wasn’t as steady, but it was respectable. At least it looked so to Stephanie.
Over the next few minutes, more and more girls came onto the court, including Kelsey and Tia, a black girl she was sometimes seen with. It was clear they were the stars. Many flocked to say hello. Others stared, seemingly wishing they knew them well enough to enter the circle. Sam stayed at the wall.
Stephanie could count on one hand the number of volleyball matches she’d watched. She barely knew the skills and techniques. But when Kelsey and Tia began passing the ball to one another and demonstrating other drills, there was no doubt they were showing how it was done.
Charley dashed over to Stephanie. “A lot more girls showed up than anticipated. Pour on those prayers.”
Stephanie did. Amid the noise in the gym, she sent up one
prayer after another for Sam to do her best, to show confidence, and ultimately, to make the team. When the whistle blew and Charley and her assistant started giving instructions, Stephanie was sure her blood pressure was going up.
Calm down. You’re not the girl’s momma.
She could only imagine what it would be like when she had her own kids.
Several girls suddenly came toward Stephanie, taking spots on the bench. Looked like the coaches had separated the girls into two groups, and the group on the floor—which included Sam—would go through some drills first. Kelsey, Tia, and others were waiting their turn.
Stephanie couldn’t hear everything Charley was saying to the girls, but when she blew her whistle, they took off in sprints from one end of the court to the other. Then a fast-walk with knee raises. Then another sprint. And something where they ran and touched a line.
“Look at Sam,” Kelsey said. “Last in every drill.”
“Girl, what else is new?” Tia said.
Stephanie’s heart dropped.
Show ‘em, Sam. You can do it.
The whistle blew again, and the girls dropped to do sit-ups. Charley had a timer in her hand, walking between the girls, shouting encouragement.
Sam did okay with the first few, then got progressively slower. A lot of other girls did too, though, so she wasn’t alone. When the whistle blew again, they switched to push-ups. Stephanie was worn out just watching. If her life depended on it, she probably couldn’t do three. But they had to keep moving, keep pushing.
Except . . . Sam had stalled. She was flat on the ground, arms in position to push up, but she hadn’t moved.
Charley bent down next to her while the other girls continued. Seconds later Sam sat up, wiping tears from her eyes.
Charley blew the whistle for the others to stop, then put an arm around Sam.
“Why is Coach Willoughby always babying her?” Tia said. “She did it all summer.”
“You know why,” Kelsey said. “She feels sorry for her. The girl’s, like, a charity case. Same ol’ jeans every other day.” She hit Tia’s arm. “Heck,
I
feel sorry for her. You should to.”
Tia watched her get up and head for the locker room. “Yeah, she’s sorry all right.”
Stephanie left the bleachers and followed Sam into the locker room. The girl was curled on a bench, chest heaving with sobs.
Stephanie sat next to Sam and put an arm around her. “What happened out there, sweetheart?”
“I . . . was too nervous to . . . eat before tryouts.” She sniffed and wiped her face with both hands. “And I just got . . . weak. I didn’t even get to the . . . main
part
.”
Lord, why? All that praying and it ends like that ?
Stephanie stood. “Come on, Sam, let’s get your things.”
“Where are we going?”
“Not sure yet. But I can’t think of a more perfect time to get to know my new friend.”
Stephanie poured Sam another glass of fresh lemonade. “Do you want some more chicken?” Stephanie asked.
Sam looked up from her near-empty plate. “Um . . . no, that’s okay.”
“Sam.” Stephanie put a hand on her hip. “If you’re trying to be polite, you need to know that our grandma taught us to always make enough for seconds and for guests. And all you ate was a little chicken wing and some brown rice.” She looked at her. “Aren’t you still hungry?”
Sam allowed a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Awesome,” Stephanie said. “Go on over there and get a real piece of chicken. And eat those vegetables on your plate. Don’t you like brussels sprouts?”
Sam wrinkled up her nose as she got up. “No, ma’am.”
Stephanie chuckled. “Me neither. Janelle’s the one who made ‘em, but they’re good for you, so eat.” She smiled as Sam got a chicken breast. “So what are your favorite foods? What do you normally eat for dinner?”
Sam returned to the table. “Hot dogs, potpies, stuff like that.”
Stephanie almost said her mother never let her eat that sort of thing regularly, though she wanted to. “So . . . your mom doesn’t cook much?”
“No.” Sam tore off a piece of baked chicken. “She’s gone a lot, either working or with her boyfriend. And when she’s home, she says she’s too tired to cook.” She tucked the chicken into her mouth.
Stephanie nodded. “I remember you said you’re an only child. What do you do when you’re home alone?”
“Homework, read books.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” Sam cut off a sliver of a brussels sprout and tasted it, her face contorting. “Eww.”
Stephanie laughed. “It’s definitely an acquired taste.” She sipped her lemonade. “What about family to hang out with? Anyone nearby?”
Sam shook her head. “My great-grandma died when I was little. We live in her old house. I don’t really have anyone else around here.” Her face lit up a little. “I loved my Grammie. She spent a lot of time with me. She’s the one who gave me my name.”
“Really? Tell me about it.”
“Not much to it,” she said. “I just remember she used to tell me Samara was a special name, and she picked it for me from the Bible.”
Stephanie leaned in, intrigued. “Have you ever looked it up?”
“I’ve got a Bible Grammie gave me as a baby. But I’ve never read it.”
“Let’s find out about your name.” She got up and took the Bible from a shelf. “Hey, Janelle! Can you come here?”
Janelle had been helping Daniel with his homework in the dining room, and she came right in. “What’s up?”
Stephanie was thumbing through the Bible. “Who’s named Samara in the Bible? Where is that?”
Janelle quirked her brow. “I can’t think of anyone.” She grabbed her purse. “Let me do a quick search on the Bible app on my phone.”
Stephanie looked over her shoulder. “I need to download one of those.”
“See,” Janelle said, “no results.” She started typing again. “Let me try Samaria . . . Yep. I bet it’s meant to be a variation of Samaria, which was a place in the Bible.”
Stephanie sat back down, laying the phone with the search results next to her Bible. “Okay, so Sam’s grandmother picked her name ‘specially for her.” She looked up at Janelle. “Why would she choose the name of this place?”
Janelle joined them at the table. “Well. Remember the parable Jesus told about the man from Samaria? We call him the Good Samaritan. The parable was strange to Jewish ears because it was the Samaritan who was the good neighbor who stopped to help the man who’d been robbed and beaten, while the Jewish leaders passed him by.”