Chasing Blue

The Pep Talker.

s o m e t i m e — 4 years ago

Austin

"What team?"

"Wildcats!" They scream in unison.

"What team?"

"Wildcats!"

"Can't hear ya, what team?"

"WILDCATS!"

"Oh my god, now don't start singing verses of the high school musical," she says holding her head. 

I see the whole bundle of them bursting into laughter that is so strong, it brought them to their knees in the girls changing room. 

"Funny," I tell her. She mouths a soundless thank you.

I missed her. The boys' camping trip was a tradition before the season's final and we always took one prior to the beginning of the training to stay focused for the rest of the term. 

And just like the camping trip, so was the prepping talk. It's what people have warned us in olden sayings. When you do something well, everyone exploits your talent. The pep talking before the girls' volleyball match was apparently mine. After the first one that I accidentally did, I'm made to do it all. 

"Okay, on a serious note, I want your attention." I hold up both my hands and wait for all the girls to calm down and meet my gaze. When one particularly stubborn player doesn't, I clear my throat. "All of your attention please,"

"Get in line," she whispered.

I hold back my blush. "Show me where it is." 

She rolls her eyes and allows a subtle smile to slip through her lips. I make my gaze harder and angrier, which Izz told me once reminded her a lot of her mother which increased her irritation level and thus, my occurrences of doing 'the look'.

Now that her eyes were fixated on me, even though she crossed her legs and taunted me with her looks from above the countertop of the locker room. "Thank you ma'am, and team, you're going onto the field for the last time as graduated individuals of this year, and some of us who also don't act like it, are still in the Freshmen Year," I glanced, and Izz and saw her pout at me. "The Stonewell Hawks and the Wildcats have had competition in every single game. They are our rivals in football, mathletes, and school fests--what even. They're trying to beat us at every single thing and I say, it's enough we let them even think they can. Some great legend once said, if you ain't pissed off for not being the best-known, then that means you're alright with being mediocre. Are we okay with being mediocre?"

"NO!" Everyone yelled back, except her.

"Exactly. We're going to drag them down to the ground and show them what we are made up of. Every injury, every fight, every spill of your blood, sweat, and tears," I saw her giggle, "Will be held honorable as you hot, sexy, powerful women lift the cup of the season this evening. Are you with me?" I asked again as everybody cheered, except her. "If you put your effort and concentration into playing to your potential, to be the best that you can be, I don't care what the scoreboard says at the end of the game, in the book of Frankfurt High, we're going to be winners. Root for each other, stick together, smash together and get the hawks to their freaking knees."

I kept my palm facing up until everyone laid their hands on mine. I couldn't make out with all the screaming and dancing and cheering who were actually there, but I know who I was staring at.

"Come on, Bella, do you need a special invite?" Chloe yelled as she followed my gaze.

"Can you please tell me why Coach Mathew isn't doing the pump-up speech thingy?" She got down from the countertop and began taking a slow walk.