scales and arpeggios

chapter one: annabeth

I close the back door of my car, slinging my bag over my shoulder and looking up at the gymnasium of Goode High School. I usually keep school and volleyball separate. Normally, I stick to my volleyball club out in Long Island and attend school in Manhattan. It helps me focus on my grades, and most importantly, band. But this was my junior year. Might as well try out, right? I mean, who knows if I'm even going to make it. I walk into the gym, past the court, and into the locker room. I glance up at the other girls, and notice Piper's here. I wave her over to me.

"You came!" she says, before squeezing me in a hug.

"Yes, and I'm already regretting it," I answer, sitting down on a bench and sliding my Crocs off.

"Annabeth," she says, and I look up at her. "I've seen you play. You're amazing. There is no doubt in my mind that you'll make the team." I smile at her before pulling my knee pads up, followed by my ankle brace and shoes.

"Thanks, Pipes." I give her a quick hug before we run onto the court.

"Okay, girls! My name is Amber, and I know you probably haven't played in a while, so we're going to warm up with Pepper," the coach says. I look around and see some girls with confused faces, somehow not knowing what to do. "You're going to partner up and- you know, maybe I should just demonstrate. Who knows how to Pepper?" I raise my hand, followed by a few of the other girls. The coach points to me and I step forward, grabbing a ball from the cart. "What's your name?" she asks me.

"Annabeth," I answer. She nods and gestures for me to toss the ball. She passes it up, and I set it to her. As she hits it down to me, I bump it back up to her, and she sets, followed by my hit. I watch as the ball flies towards the coach, and she catches it.

"That's all it is," she says, and I sink back into the shadows next to Piper.

"Partners?" she asks. I nod and she grabs a ball. We start the typical warm-ups, passing to each other, setting to each other, hitting down balls at each other. After about 10 minutes of random drills, Coach Amber calls a huddle.

"Now that you're all warmed up, I want to see your serves. Can I have three girls receiving, and the rest of you line up with a ball, ready to serve. Once you serve, replace whoever received." She walks to the bench to watch us. Piper goes to receive, and I wink at her before getting in line. I shake my nerves off as it gets closer to my turn. Soon enough, I'm faced with the net. I back up and jump serve, the ball flying over the net, quickly received by the left-back. A few minutes later Amber pulls me aside, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I don't like this. I feel my nerves start up.

"What position do you play?" she asks.

"Setter," I tell her, and she smiles.

"That's what I thought," she says, and I look at her in confusion. She just laughs and pushes me back onto the court. "Okay, everyone, 6 on 6!"

I can't tell if the rest of tryouts go by quickly or at a snail's pace. I set. I hit. I pass. I serve. My sets are good, not great, at least in my opinion. I catch some of the girls staring at me when I serve. Eventually, Coach calls us in for a final huddle.

"I just want to say, all of you did amazing today, and I will be calling soon." I don't catch the rest of her speech, because my anxiety chooses to catch up with me then. I wait for the call, then run to the locker room, ripping my shoes off, followed by my knee pads and ankle brace. I pull on a pair of sweatpants over my spandex before walking outside, the August heat slapping me in the face. I throw my bag in the backseat of my car, starting the engine as soon as I find my keys. I take a deep breath. And another.

I text Piper and tell her I'm heading to the diner, and she tells me she'll meet me there. I drive away from Goode and down the street to the small restaurant. Turning the engine off, I grab my phone, keys, and wallet, and walk in. I order a shake and sit down in a booth. Piper arrives a few minutes later. She sits down across from me and we laugh and talk for an hour, but it feels like a few minutes. I glance at my phone and see the time: 5:07 p.m.

"Oh, crap," I say. "I should probably get going." I stand up and hug her before heading outside and jumping in my car. I drive home, humming some Hamilton along the way. I park on the street and head inside and up to my bathroom. I shower off the sweat and throw on a hoodie and some shorts. I brush my hair and throw it up into a bun before heading downstairs.

"Hey, Dad," I say as I pass his office.

"Hi, Annabeth, how were tryouts?" he asks.

"Good, I think I did pretty well," I answer. I smile at him and head to the kitchen. I grab a soda out of the fridge and pop it open before grabbing a seat at the island. Helen glances up from making dinner and I wave at her. She returns it with a small smile.

"How were tryouts?" she asks, and I'm about to answer when my phone rings from my pocket. It's Coach Amber.

"Hello?" I ask. My voice almost disappears.

"Annabeth," Coach says, and I glance up at Helen, who's gone back to making dinner, but the smirk on her face tells me she knows what's about to happen. "You've made Varsity. I wanted to call you first, and I can't even begin to describe how amazingly you played today."

"Oh, thank you!" I say, completely shocked.

"Yes, the full roster should be out soon," she finishes.

"Thank you, again," I say, before hanging up. I look at Helen and she smiles.

"I knew you would make it," she says.