Page 169 of On His Team

I look down at the sheet. She’s right.

“What if something happens during the ice session?” she asks.

“What kind of something?”

“Anything. A volunteer doesn’t show. A child gets sick. A parent needs somebody. You’ve built every person into a fixed position.”

I rub my forehead. “So I need another person.”

“You need flexibility.”

That is professor language for yes.

I write it down.

By Tuesday, Derek and I are walking through the secondary locker room while somebody from facilities explains which doors can and cannot be propped open. I take seventeen notes.

One is just: Do not block this door.

The clinic is Saturday morning. Four days. I don’t feel ready. Everyone keeps telling me I am.

Wednesday, I’m in the equipment room with Donovan going through the rental list. He checks one page.

“You’re short three youth mediums.”

“What?”

“Helmets.”

“No. I counted.”

“You counted what’s physically here. Two of those are tagged out.”

I stare at the shelf. “They’re broken?”

“One has a cracked cage mount. One has no certification sticker.”

My stomach drops. “Can I get three more?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

He looks at me. “Relax.”

“I cannot relax.”

Donovan looks at my hand. I realize I am gripping the clipboard hard enough to bend it.

He reaches over and takes it from me. “Gianna.”

“Yeah?”

“You need three helmets. We have relationships with six youth programs within forty minutes of here. This is not an emergency.”

“It feels like one.”

“It isn’t.”