Shirbert in the Modern Era

Chapter Twelve: Victories

The first quarter was uncomfortably tight. Grunts and screams came from players on both sides, and more than once Anne shot up from her seat in triumphant applause.

Gilbert was doing his best to focus on the game, but he kept getting distracted by Anne. Her obvious passion enthralled him, every move she made made his heart feel lighter.

At the end of the half  Josie and Diana came over to the bleachers drenched in sweat to get water. The score was tied 8-8, and Josie was furious.

"If Meg would just practice her fucking spike instead of doing that same low fucking hit we would be winning-"

"Josie you know everyone's doing their best-"

"Meg's best has gotten worse-"

Diana crossed her arms at Josie, who didn't take notice.

"I think everyone's playing really well, Josie!" Gilbert said, trying to diffuse her anger.

Josie narrowed her eyes at Gilbert.

"That's why you're not a volleyball player."

Anne and Diana made wide-eyed eye contact, silently willing themselves not to laugh. They had almost forgot that Josie had a mean streak a mile wide.

The ref blew the whistle, and Diana and Josie ran back on the court, ponytails whipping behind them.

The next quarter was as tight as the last and everyone was on the edge of their seats, none more so than Anne.

An intense rally was going on; everybody in the gym's head was turning quickly back and forth to watch the traveling ball.

One of the Roadrunners hit the ball a little softer than the rally had been going. It slowly made its arc high into the air, but was interrupted when Diana spiked it, hard and fast over the net and onto the linoleum.

Anne jumped to her feet.

"Woohoo Let's go Diana!" She hollered, clapping her hands wildly.

In her excitement, Anne continued clapping and shouting praise for a beat after everyone else had sat back down. She didn't notice until-

From across the bleachers, an annoyed voice called out, "shut up Red!"

Anne's smile dropped from her face and was replaced by an open-mouthed expression of shock and appall.

Before he had time to think, Gilbert was up on his feet, jaw clenched, eyes searching the bleachers for the offender.

"You gonna have your boyfriend beat me up or something?" The voice called again, and this time Anne focused her eyes on a ratty, smug looking boy from Redmond.

Anger seared her insides. How dare he! Her focus, as well as the crowd's was no longer on the game. This was far more pressing.

As Anne was thinking up a properly stinging insult, Gilbert angrily yelled, "hey buddy! Why don't you go back to Redmond!"

The boy stood up from his spot and began down the bleachers towards Anne. Gilbert took a menacing step forward to meet him, but Anne ran out in front of him so that she was between the two, who both looked ready to throw a punch.

Anne has to think carefully about her next move. Though rash by nature, Anne knew that it wouldn't reflect well on her to simply punch this boy in the face like her internal monologue advised.

First she turned to Gilbert, teeth clenched.

"Go back to your seat," she said urgently, "I can fight my own battles!"