Both the crowd and Val's limbs were screaming—but for decidedly different reasons. The first was done in excitement. The latter, with fatigue.
The game had dragged on too long with the neck-and-neck scoring. It made a terrific show for the fans, but it was hell for Val and her teammates, who looked ready to dissolve into exhaustion.
It was the fifth and final set and their score was tied with the enemy’s—yes, the enemy, which pretty much summed up every one on the other side of the court—at thirteen points. Somehow, Val’s team had to score two consecutive points to win and finally end this torture.
Val let her eyes glaze over as Coach Eric shouted his usual angry litany whenever the pressure was on. Gingerly, Val rotated her left ankle to relieve the slight pain. She always had weak ankles. Then she straightened up and gave her whole body a quick shake while doing mini jumps.
I am a ROBOT. A lean, mean, spiking ROBOT machine. ROBOTS don’t feel pain. ROBOTS don’t get tired. ROBOTS always win.
“FABIAN!”
Val snapped to attention, feeling like someone had yanked off her mental earplugs, the full effect of the stadium’s atmosphere flooding her whole system. She was suddenly conscious of the bright lights overhead, shaped like the lamps used in the hospitals’ operating rooms. She blinked at the cameraman— and the soundman, who was squeezing his big-ass microphone that looked like an overfed caterpillar into their huddle. And yes, there was Coach, himself, looking at her with crazy eyes, the vein on his forehead throbbing in time to their band’s bass drum.
Val felt her heart beat faster as she braced herself for the Wrath of Coach Eric. He didn’t like distracted players, especially if said player was team captain.
The asthmatic-looking man in front of Val came up only to her chest—which is why people who didn’t know him would often balk in surprise at the deep commanding voice that boomed out of his thin frame. Coach practically spit out the words.
“WHAMMY. GOT IT?”
Val turned to the girl next to her, and raised her eyebrows. “Ready, Katwoman?”
Kat nodded. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Val felt a bead of sweat sliding down her nose. Automatically, she lifted her jersey’s collar to wipe it off. Fudge. The last time she did that, some paparazzo had taken her picture, and uploaded it on the internet with the caption “FAB’S FAB ABS.”
Not that she had any problem showing off her abs. It’s just that you couldn’t exactly pull of gorgeous when you’re wiping any part of your face with any part of your clothing. Her last photo showed her half-closed eyes and her mouth hanging open in full glory. Good thing her half-lifted shirt showing her flat tummy outshone them all.
Just as the horn blared, Val placed her hands at the center of the huddle, along with the other palms piled on top of each other, and shouted, “GO, PHOENIX, FIGHT!”
Val tossed her high ponytail and adjusted her thin, neon pink headband for luck. Across her, the enemy was already in position. Val felt like her team was looking at its reflection, except that they glittered in silver and aqua, while the other side blazed in lipstick-red uniforms. The air between them was charged with anticipation.
The whistle blew, and the server from the other team stopped dribbling, held the ball for a sweet, silent second before delivering the kill.
Val and her teammates sprinted into position. It was a sharp serve, a bit off-speed, making it hard to gauge where the ball would land.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Player
RomanceGorgeous college senior Val Fabian is a player in every sense of the word. She's the star spiker of her university's volleyball team, and she never runs out of dates. But it seems that this year, she has finally been bitten by the commitment bug. S...
