Apartment 311

Ch | 31

Season Four
Brooklyn Noelle Brankovich

Chapter Thirty-one: "Playing hard ball"

"- right?" Mother spoke over the phone.

I walked through the parking lot as I continued the conversation.
As I neared the grocery store, I laid eyes on a group of six women in athletic uniforms.

"Hi! Donate to our program?" One girl said with cheer as she waved a poster in my face.

"Hold on, Mom," I said and hung up with no intentions of calling her back later. "What's the cause?"

The thin brunette who wore the number six stood before the others and talked to me. "We're a local adult volleyball team - The Sun City Sharks!"The rest of the girls roared with excitement, making me laugh. They seemed awfully happy and in love with their program.

"Volleyball?" I asked upon reading the sign.

Number six nodded her head. "You play?"

"I used to, back in college - Baylor."

"Get out! My little sister is transferring there. Do you still play?" Number twenty-six questioned me.

"No, not since college. I miss it, though."

"Come play with us!" Six suggested and the girls all agreed. "Here, I'll give you the address to the gym. We play tournaments every Sunday, all day; it's very competitive - not for entry-level players. Practices are Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from noon to two-thirty." The girl looked down at me and handed over a paper with all their information about the costs, coaches, and schedule.

It sounded appealing but I wasn't sure yet. "I don't know, I'm twenty-two. Isn't this usually a, like-"

"I'm twenty-six," Number six said.

Number twenty-six spoke up. "I'm twenty."

"Twenty-four," the shortest player confessed.

"Turning thirty," another player said with pride. She didn't even look her age.

"Oh. Well, then, yeah... I'll think about it!" I assured them, my normally fruity voice going up an octave.

"See you!" Six piped, waving as I trailed off.

"Bye." I waved at them all and entered the store.

As I filled my cart, I wandered down aisles I had no business being in. My eyes scanned the shelves and located white ACE sports tape. I smiled remembering all the jammed fingers I got from not taping in high school while playing volleyball.

After debating whether or not to get it, I pushed two boxes in the cart and whistled out of the aisle.

Once I paid, I left the Wal-Mart and drove out of the parking lot only to see a DICK's Sporting Goods across the street in another plaza. Everything in me told me not to stop, but I just had to.

I'm only looking, I mentally told myself as I stepped through the automatic doors.

"Hi, welcome to DICK'S," a blonde employee told me with a smile. "Can I help you with something today?" I stammered trying to answer, concerned by how quick and enthusiastic she was. Most places let you look around a little before asking, so it caught me off guard that she was so on it.

I stepped towards her by the golf clubs and read her name tag. "Hi, Kennedy. I'm looking for knee pads."

"Volleyball?" She said after looking me over.