“I’m Allie Rogers,” I tell her. My name doesn’t appear to ring any bells, so I add, “Class of 2014? You were my history teacher.”
Her eyes open wider in recognition. “Allie Rogers! What are you doing here?” She scurries over to me and wraps me in her arms. She always used to smell like she’d just rolled in a fresh lavender field, so I’m not surprised that she still does.
“I … well … I heard you were looking for a substitute English teacher. I was walking by and I guess I thought I’d just stop in. I was going to give Mr. Cooke a call tomorrow.”
She eyes me up and down slowly, probably checking out myodd choice of interview attire. “You just missed him,” she tells me. “There’s a school board meeting tonight.”
“Ah, well.” Motioning toward my sweatsuit like I’m spokesmodeling the latest in comfort wear, I add, “Now I suppose I can make a better first impression.”
“Nonsense!” She flails about with dramatic jazz hands. “You look wonderful! You’re even wearing Crappy colors!”
She’s right. I’m in black sweatpants with a gold sweater. “Once a Crappy, always a Crappy, huh?” I joke.
My old teacher grimaces. “You realize this is the only place on earth you could say that without it sounding highly inappropriate.”
A burst of laughter escapes me. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s questioned our mascot.”
She shakes her head with vigor. “I’ve been tempted to petition a change, but Mr. Cooke thinks it’s a fabulous name. Probably because he loves fishing for crappies.” Before I can comment, she adds, “I’m in a rush. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” She blows a kiss as she continues across the floor toward the office.
I’m not sure what to do now. I suppose I should just leave and come back tomorrow, but something is pulling me in the direction of the gym. Or should I say,someone…
CHAPTER SIX
NOAH
“Decan Flynn!” I shout out to my varsity post. “Your sister is running rings around you, man!”
Leah takes advantage of her brother’s stunned disbelief at being called out and hip checks him right off the court.
After stumbling several feet out of bounds, Decan finally succumbs to gravity and hits the ground with a loud smacking sound. “Foul! That was a foul! I get two points!”
“No foul,” I tell him.
“She knocked me off my feet,” he whines.
“She used her butt. That’s legal.”
Decan huffs and puffs and looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. The good news is that he gets back into the game with a determination I can only assume is fueled by the need for revenge.
As the scrimmage continues, I notice the door to the gym open. I have a hard time hiding my surprise when Allie Rogers walks in. She didn’t sound overly excited about the job prospect on the phone. Certainly not enough that she would rush right over.
Hesitantly lifting a hand in greeting, Allie waves while making her way toward me. Once she arrives, all she says is, “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?”
She shrugs. “I was out for a walk.”
Motioning toward the action of the court, I tell her, “These are the girls I was telling you about.”
She watches for several moments, before deciding, “They’re good.”
“They are. In fact, I’d say they’re better than the boys.”
“My dad says the boys’ basketball team hasn’t done that well in recent years. They’re certainly nothing like they were your senior year.” An adorable blush stains Allie’s cheeks, which is not a reaction I would have expected from her. Especially, because she made sure to tell me she was not interested in going out with me.
“They’re not hungry,” I tell her. “I was hoping that playing with the girls would bring out their need to pony up and show the world what they’ve got. But so far, they’re more mad than determined.”
Allie motions toward the court. “I bet if you played boys against girls, you’d see their inner beasts come out.” She explains, “By mixing the teams, you’re making it hard for them to fight the perceived enemy.”
