Girls, Gifted Page 5
“Maybe I will, maybe I will,” imitated Lissy. “If I get her number, will you call her?”
The thought of calling Kristin terrified Jamie.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. She has no idea I even exist, so why would she talk to me?”
Chapter Seven
“Hi, I am Rob Olson, and this is my daughter, Kristin. We’re here to see Mrs. Schultz about registering for school this fall.” He handed the receptionist an envelope with Kristin’s birth certificate and immunization records.
The receptionist took the envelope from Rob. “Come right this way,” she said as she led them down the hall to Mrs. Schultz’s office.
“So, Kristin, are you excited to be here?” Mrs. Schultz asked.
“No,” Kristin answered.
“Kristin,” Rob said. He tried a winning smile on Mrs. Schultz. “The move here came unexpectedly.”
“I looked up your old school, Sarasota Academy, when I was looking at your transcript. Number eighth ranked school in the country?”
Kristin was surprised she had researched her former school. “Yes.”
“Impressive!” Mrs. Schultz said. “With the number of classes you took there, you have enough credits to register as a senior.”
“Do you mean I could graduate this year?” Kristin asked, intrigued.
“As long as a parent signed off on it, you could.”
“Dad, could I?”
“That’s a discussion for another day,” Rob said. “Let’s get you registered first.”
“I brought a list of the classes I want to take,” Kristin said. “AP Chemistry, AP Physics, AP Calculus, AP Literature or Advanced Writing, Drawing I and II or Creative Writing I and II, Spanish V, and AP US History. Those are my first choices.”
“You want to take seven classes? Most upperclassmen only take five academic classes.”
“Yes,” said Kristin.
“And five AP classes?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“From the looks of your transcript, I’m sure you’re capable, but some of those AP classes are full. Let’s see where I can plug you in. I can get you in to AP Calculus, AP Chemistry, and AP US History.”
“Not AP Literature?” Kristin really wanted that class.
“No, but I can put you on the waiting list. There are only a few kids ahead of you, so there’s a good chance you’ll get in. Until then, why don’t we do English 11, Journalism first semester, Theatre Production second semester, and Spanish V? It’s only six classes, but we might be able to add Drawing I and II.”
“Okay. So you think I’ll get AP Lit?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but it’s possible. Check in with me after school starts.”
“Thanks for all your help,” Kristin said.
“That’s what we’re here for,” Mrs. Schultz said cheerfully.
* * *
“Journalism and Theatre Production? Those are fluff classes,” Rebecca said.
“She said I could change my schedule around once kids start dropping and adding classes. Guess what? I have enough credits to be a senior. I could graduate in May.”
“No,” said Rebecca.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not going to college when you’re seventeen,” Rebecca said.
“That’s a dumb reason,” Kristin said.
Rob cleared his throat. “Respectful, right?”
“I don’t get why Mom gets to just make these unilateral decisions we all have to abide by, and we don’t get any say!”
“Do you think you could get into Harvard or Yale this year?” Rob asked.
“Probably not,” Kristin said.
He was right. She needed another year of high school.
“Can we go to the library? I want to check out the books on the AP Lit summer reading list.”
“Do we have to go now?” Rebecca asked. “There’s a church social for new members. I was hoping I could take everyone and introduce us as a family.”
“On a Friday afternoon?” Kristin asked. “I need to get those books read in case I get switched into AP Lit!”
“Rob,” Rebecca said, “can we go?”
“I need to get back to the store and finish up an order,” Rob said. “Why don’t we drop the kids off at the library, and you can take me to work and then take the car to the social?”
“It’s important to me that we introduce ourselves as a family!”
“I can’t go, and Kristin needs to get some books for summer reading.”
“Why can’t she get them and come with me?”
“That’s fine. I don’t care,” Rob said.
“I care,” said Kristin. “I want to stay at the library.”
“No, you’re coming with me!” Rebecca said.
Rob pulled into the library.
“I’m not,” Kristin said, getting out of the car. Lucas got out with her.
Lucas got on a computer while Kristin found three books on her list. She sat down in a remote corner in the library and picked up The Kite Runner.
Her phone vibrated. A text from her dad:
Where are you
Impatiently she replied:
In the library
He responded:
We are waiting for you
Exasperated, she typed:
I’m staying here, I’ll walk to the store later
She resumed reading, idly twirling her fingers through her curls. Suddenly the book was ripped out of her hands.
Startled, Kristin looked up at her mother, whose fierce expression scared Kristin.
“Get up and get out in the car, now!”
Kristin sprung up and reached for the book. “No. Give that back!”
Rebecca’s voice rose to a shout. “You will get in that car, missy! Now!”
Kristin had her eyes on the book and was planning to grab it when her mother’s hand struck her across the face with a stinging and resounding slap. Kristin’s head jerked around, and she fell awkwardly on the arm of her chair.
“You will learn to stop defying me!” Rebecca said angrily. She threw the book at Kristin, who put her hands up too late, and a corner of the book caught her forehead.
“Mom, stop!” Kristin cried.
“Is everything all right back here?” asked a women wearing a name badge, looking concerned.
“Fine,” said Rebecca, spinning on her heel and walking quickly out the door.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked, seeing a red mark across Kristin’s face.
Kristin couldn’t speak, as tears ran down her face. She put her hands up to her cheek to hide where she had been hit and nodded.
“Okay,” the woman said doubtfully. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Kristin sat back down in the chair, still crying. Her phone vibrated again.
Be at the store by four
She replied to her dad’s text with one word that she hoped conveyed her anger.
Fine
Chapter Eight
Tryouts for the girls’ soccer teams at Stowe Regional High started at 8 a.m. Monday morning. Jamie arrived early and warmed up by jogging around the field and having a pass with some of the other girls as they arrived. By 8:05, there were 45 girls assembled and ready.
Jamie saw the JV coach come out with a young man with a short physique and soccer shorts. He had a crew cut and wore a stopwatch around his neck.
“Good morning, ladies. My name is Coach Detmer, I’m Coach Abbott’s assistant coach. Coach Abbott won’t be here this week, so Coach Price and I will be running tryouts.”
He took attendance. When he got to Jamie’s name, he stopped.
“Jamie Chase?”
“Here.”
“Coach Abbott says you’re a captain.”
“That’s right. Me and Celeste.”
“You got any brothers?”
“Yeah. Jason and Jack.”
“Jason. He play football?” He was staring at her, waiting for her to answer.
> “Yeah, at UMass Amherst. You know him?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, and she shrugged. She was used to people asking about her brothers.
“Okay, first up I want to test your conditioning. Let’s head to the track for a timed mile.”
A collective groan came from the girls.
“You don’t have to run it if you don’t want to,” he said. “But if you don’t, don’t bother coming back tomorrow.”
As they walked over to the track, some of the girls talked amongst themselves. “What do you think is up with Coach Abbott?”
“I heard she got some really good job and she started this week,” said someone.
He had them run in three different groups. Jamie went in the first group, and she got off to a fast start. She passed some girls on her third lap and crossed the finish line first with a time of 5:58.
“Great time, Jamie,” said Coach Price. Jamie gave her a thumbs up while she drank some water, and watched the others finish.
“Seven oh one, seven oh two,” called out Coach Detmer. “So close.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked someone.
“You’ll see,” he said.
The last stragglers came in, walking over the finish line.
“Okay, we have 44 girls here for tryouts. Out of those 44, 34 did not finish under seven minutes, which is the cutoff for what is considered acceptable for a state championship caliber team. Everyone get your water bottles and head over to the football stadium.”
He led them to the first aisle in the bleachers.
“For every player who didn’t finish the mile under seven minutes, you have a bleacher to run.”
They looked up at the steep stadium bleachers. “You mean, up is one and down is two?” asked Celeste, who had finished her mile in eight and a half minutes.
“No. I mean up and down is one. You have 34 to do. Ready? Go!” The whistle blew. They all started up the bleachers.
Jamie started off steady, but by the time she had three more left, her legs felt like jelly. She struggled to pick her legs up high enough so she didn’t trip as some of the other girls were doing. Five girls had quit and had walked off the stands.
Jamie was the first to finish and got a drink of water.
“That sucked,” said someone.
The girls collapsed on the field when they were done. Coach Price didn’t seem like she approved of the training, but she didn’t say anything.
“For the five of you who did not complete the bleacher runs, you can stay at home in bed tomorrow. You have been cut. Everyone else, I will see you tomorrow morning at eight sharp. Don’t be late.”
Jamie was sore in her legs and back. She went home and took a shower and went to the beach to see if Kristin and her friend Izzy were there. They weren’t, so Jamie drove home and lay in her bed, trying to rest while wondering if Kristin and Izzy were a couple.
* * *
On Tuesday, Jamie got to the field and loosened up more than she usually did. She was sore and tight from all the bleacher runs from the day before. She stretched her hamstrings out well. When Celeste got there, she and Jamie had a pass.
Coach Detmer came down to the field.
“Put the ball away.”
“What’re we doing today?” Celeste asked.
“Back to the track,” he said simply.
“Are we running a mile again?”
“Yes. We might do it every day until everyone is under seven minutes.”
“Are you serious?” Jamie asked.
“Yes. Want to be winners? You need to be able to last a whole game, especially at the end of the season.”
This time sixteen girls didn’t finish under seven minutes.
“Since this is the second day of tryouts, we are going to multiply the number of girls who didn’t finish by two, so you have 32 bleacher runs.”
“Aren’t we going to scrimmage or play or anything?” Jamie asked.
“You’ll play, Jamie, when I say you play. Add two more bleacher runs for everyone, courtesy Jamie.”
He blew the whistle.
“What a dick!” Celeste panted in passing.
Jamie was furious. What kind of training was this? Why was he being such an asshole, and why did it seem like it was directed specifically at her?
* * *
On Wednesday, there were only 28 girls at tryouts. A group of parents stayed to watch.
Only nine finished over seven minutes, so when he multiplied that by three, they had 27 bleacher runs for the day.
“What’s the point of this? They haven’t even used soccer balls yet!” a father confronted Coach Detmer.
“Sir, if you are unhappy with the way I’m running this team, there is still time for your daughter to try out for golf.”
When they were done, Coach Price announced, “I am holding JV practice tomorrow, anyone who hasn’t finished under seven minutes be here at nine.”
“Can I play for you?” Jamie called out, joking.
The team laughed.
Coach Detmer fixed her with a steely look and wrote something on his clipboard.
* * *
“Whoever hasn’t finished under seven minutes, get up front. We’ll pace you.” Jamie organized the runners from slowest to fastest.
It didn’t matter. Despite Jamie’s encouragement and strategizing, six people missed finishing in less than seven minutes. As they walked over to the stadium, Jamie started getting angry. When they got to the stands, she spoke up.
“Come on, man!” she argued. “We have been doing this for three days now. This is stupid!”
“Are you saying I’m stupid?”
“No, running up and down these bleachers is stupid!” Jamie spat out her words.
“You don’t like how I run practice?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I don’t appreciate a team captain questioning me in front of the team.”
“I’m speaking up because I’m a captain!”
He dropped his clipboard on the bench. “You just earned the privilege of doing everyone else’s bleacher runs for them.”
“What?”
“Everyone else is dismissed. Practice tomorrow at eight. Get started, Chase.”
“Are you serious?” Jamie demanded. “You want me to run the bleachers by myself?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“You know I’ve finished under seven minutes every day!”
“For every minute you argue, I’ll double the number,” he said.
Jamie glared at him. She walked up and down the first bleacher.
“You’re going to need to go faster than that!”
“This is as fast as I’m going. I’m not risking an injury.”
Mr. Sims, the athletic director, walked out to the football field with Coach Marshall, the head football coach. They put their hands to their foreheads to shield their eyes from the sun, looking at Jamie, and then Mr. Sims came to the bottom of the bleachers.
“Jamie, what are you doing? Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Ask him.”
Jamie started running up the bleachers, then down again. Coach Marshall walked over to where Coach Detmer stood and spoke to him.
“Practice is over, Jamie. Go home,” Mr. Sims called up to her.
“Is Coach Abbott coming back?”
“Yes, she’ll be here Monday. She started a new job and had trainings she couldn’t miss this week.”
“Good. It’ll be nice to have someone around with some sense!” she said as she walked past them.
* * *
On Friday, Coach Detmer was waiting at the field for them. “Everybody get a ball out. Form a single file line.”
“Indian runs?” asked someone.
“Yup.”
For an hour and a half, they dribbled soccer balls around the field in lines while the last person had to run to the front of the line when he blew his whistle. It was exhausting. For the last half hour of the practice he had them run sprint
s. Jamie’s legs still hurt from the bleacher runs.
“Having fun now, ladies?”
* * *
On Saturday, Coach Detmer had them do some drills and sprints. At the end of practice, he called Jamie and Celeste over to him.
“I want you two to call a captain’s practice for tomorrow morning.”
“If you are telling us to call a practice, doesn’t that make it a coach’s practice?” Jamie asked.
His eyes narrowed. “How badly do you want to be a captain?”
Jamie just gritted her teeth and walked over to the rest of the team. “We are having a scrimmage tomorrow evening at six. It’s optional.”
* * *
Coach Abbott returned Monday.
“Sorry gang, I’m going to do what I can to make sure I’m here, but I may miss time here and there through October.”
By Tuesday morning, the teams had been chosen, and they had their first scrimmage. They won by three goals, all of which Jamie scored.
The first game of the season was Friday, and they were as ready as they were going to be.
Chapter Nine
Stowe Regional Middle High School staggered the start dates for students by class. The first day of school was on Monday for 6th and 9th grade students only. They were joined by 7th, 10th and 11th grade students on Tuesday, and the entire middle and high school was in class by Wednesday.
No mention was made of the incident in the library between Kristin and her mother, but Kristin hadn’t spoken a word to her mother since it happened. They were able to argue through Rob, though.
“Dad, why can’t I pack a lunch? I don’t want to get a school lunch. They’re nasty.”
“Because for now, that is something you have to do. I filled out the paperwork, and if things get better for us, you can take a lunch.”
“So we have to get a free lunch from the school?” Just the thought of it embarrassed Kristin. “Do I have to announce to everyone that we’re poor?”