***
Sawyer talks the entire drive to her middle school volleyball practice, and I freakingloveit.?
Yes, I know I’ve only known her for a total of ten minutes, but she reminds me of… well, me. One parent missing from the picture, navigating a new town with a dad who clearly loves her but whose schedule is about to get complicated, so when she has a captive audience, all her defenses drop, and she spillsevery single thought that’s on her mind in a consistent stream of conscious. No filter, no hesitation—just pure, raw honesty because she wants to be seen and heard.
And I eat it up.
Underneath all that chatter, I can tell she’s a good kid. She seems happy and well-adjusted to her new life in Connecticut. Content. And you really can’t ask for more in a girl teetering on the edge of teenage hood, just on the brink of periods, friend drama, and God help us all especially Seth,boys. It’s a tough transition, that weird, in-between phase where you’re not quite a little girl anymore, but the world hasn’t fully caught up to the idea of you growing up so anytime you dotry to assert your independence, someone’s there reminding you of your age and place in the world telling you to slow down.
The windows are down, and the warm summer breeze rushes through my SUV, whipping our hair around us in every direction. Sawyer’s grinning, brown eyes so much like Seth’s, shining as she tells me about her new school, the friends she’s made since she moved here a few weeks ago, and how much she likes living in Brookhaven.
I get that Seth is stressed about uprooting her life from the West Coast, but from where I’m sitting, Sawyer seems totally unfazed by the recent changes and is settling in perfectly. The only person stressed in this vehicle is me while I replay every single detail of that encounter with her dad.
“So, they’re thinking about making me the libero,” she announces proudly.
My eyes widen with appropriately tween dramatic enthusiasm. “That’s a big deal.”
She perks up. “You know what that is?”
“I played libero when I was a volleyball player.”
Her mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait… really?”
“Really.”
“Wow.” She whispers it like I just casually admitted to playing D1 volleyball. And just like that, I win a whole handful of cool points.
I pull into the school parking lot and park then reach over and grab the extra Gatorade I brought with me this morning before handing it to her. She takes it.
“You want me to stay and watch? Do the other parents stick around for practice?”
She shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Some do.” Which means she wants me to, but she’s too cool to ask.
“You know what? I’d love to stay. I miss playing. It’d be fun to get back into the sport, even just as a spectator.”
Her eyes light up, and I feel like I just won the freaking lottery. This gig won’t be hard if I can just manage to avoid Seth. She hops out of the car first, walking a little ahead of me like she’s totally fine with me being here but not too close, because that would be lame and make her feel like a baby.
Inside the building the rush of air-conditioning hits me like a sweet, refreshing slap. I say goodbye to Sawyer then make my way up the bleachers, settling a few rows away from a small group of women chatting excitedly down below. The coach blows her whistle, calling the girls into warmups, when one of the moms turns to me with a friendly smile.
“Hi! Want to come join us?”
I’ll never say no to new friends. Climbing down a few rows, I plop into an empty seat and extend my hand. “Hi! I’m Brianna King, Sawyer’s new nanny.”
“Oh!” One of the women exclaims. “We haven’t had a chance to meet Seth yet.” She smiles warmly beneath the brim of her baseball cap. “I’m Mae, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand.
The two other women, who look a little older—maybe in their forties—exchange polite smiles.
“This is Lucy and Heather,” Mae continues. “Our daughters all play on the team with Sawyer. It’s good you came today, most parents don’t stay for practice, but we can always use more hands helping with team events and travel for away games.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Count me in. Happy to help however you need.”
The coach blows the whistle, shifting the girls from warmups into a spiking drill. The setter takes position, and the coach starts lobbing easy passes, letting each girl take a swing at a spike. Most of the spikes go straight into the net, but a few manage to tip the ball over or bunt it across, earning cheers from their teammates. The camaraderie seems strong. They look like they’re excited to be back together, and I just hope Sawyer finds her place among them as the new girl.
The coach has Sawyer step to the other side of the net to catch the spikes that make it over and I sit on the edge of my seat, watching her nervously. Lucy leans forward, pointing proudly.
“That’s my daughter—the setter. All-State at only twelve years old.”
