It's Just That Crazy

Chapter 2- Why do Bad Things Always Happen to Good People

        That's true. I guess you can't expect looks to match intelligence.

        I turn to my book and open it to the front cover. Mrs. Kane instructs us to write our names in them under all the other people who have previously had the books.

        Our first lesson for the semester is sewing. Mrs. Kane seems particularly excited about this one. After our text book lesson we'll be making curtains and throw pillows for our bedrooms. Not that I'll ever actually use mine. Anything I've ever attempted to make turned out hideous.

        Mrs. Kane bought tons of fabric for us to choose from.

        I turn to the first lesson in our books as Mrs. Kane reads aloud.

        By the end of the day I'm switching into my gym shorts and shirt when I go to remove my neon green knee socks, but decide to leave them on. They're comfortable and I don't feel like taking them off yet. The other girls have already left the locker room so I'm the only one left in the room. After placing my stuff in my locker, I head out into the gym for volley ball.

        Coach Kane already has the net set up with the assistance of two other guys in the class when I make it to the gym. He picks the same two guys to head off the volleyball teams and they start dividing us up. Brent, of course, is one of the first few people to get picked. He's great at pretty much every sport. I wonder how it feels being so perfect at everything you do.

        I get picked toward the middle of the selection and I am disappointed to see Brent and I are on different teams. I was hoping I would have at least one person to talk to.

        After every one is divided up we go to opposite sides of the net and I am the very first one to serve. It has been a while since I played the game so I'm a little nervous about sending the ball across the net. Everyone seems to be waiting on me to get the game started so I throw the ball up and hit with enough force to send it flying. Unfortunately though, it doesn't make it past the net and instead gets caught in it and falls to the ground. No one made an attempt to save it. A girl turns back at me and laughs and I laugh along with her. It was a pretty pathetic serve.

        Next is the other teams turn to serve. Devon, the chooser for the team, goes first. He hits the ball hard and sends it flying over the net and the front people of our team rush to hit it. It gets tossed in the air twice by our side then someone sends it back over to the other team. It smacks the ground in their court.

        We continue to go back and forth until I am rotated to the front line and the ball comes sailing over the net and smacks me clean in the face. I stumbled back in shock as the ball hits the ground. My face burns from the impact from my forehead to the end of my nose. Ow!

        I feel my face slightly welting under my touch. Coach Kane is looking at me with worry when he examines my face from outside the play area. That's when I feel it- the warm trickle running along my septum and down my lip. I touch my nose with the tips of my fingers and pull away to see read coating my fingers. Crap.

        Coach Kane jogs over to me and tips my head back with the touch of his hand under my chin. And as awkward as it is, I blush. He has that effect on girls.

        "Keep your head back." He looks across the net at the other team and orders someone to take me to the nurse's office. With one other person missing from the opposite team, he still has even numbers for play while we are gone.

        I am grateful when Brent is the person who offers first. "I'll do it." He makes his way over to us places his hand on the middle of my back to steer me away from the team. I tense up unintentionally and he removes his hand from me blushing. "Sorry." He looks ahead as we walk avoids touching me again. "Pinch your nose. It'll help stop the bleeding."