TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  CHAPTER 1: Volleyball Dreams

  CHAPTER 2: Communication and Trust

  CHAPTER 3: Under Control

  CHAPTER 4: Homework Check

  CHAPTER 5: Math vs. Volleyball

  CHAPTER 6: Kitchen Table Talk

  CHAPTER 7: Coach Meeting

  CHAPTER 8: Retake

  CHAPTER 9: Finding Balance

  CHAPTER 10: Good News

  CHAPTER 11: Back in the Game

  About the Author

  Glossary

  Discussion Questions

  Writing Prompts

  Learn the Terms

  Explore More

  Copyright

  Back Cover

  CHAPTER 1

  VOLLEYBALL DREAMS

  When the school bell rang, Layla Sanchez hustled from her last class to the girls’ locker room. She quickly changed into shorts and a tank top. She pulled her socks up over her calves and slid on her kneepads. Once her long, straight brown hair was in a ponytail, she entered the gym for volleyball practice.

  During the season, Layla was always first to the gym, aside from Coach Eagan. Before her teammates arrived, Layla thought about the season and her long-term goals. As she walked across the gleaming floor, she remembered the cheering crowds from past games. She grabbed a volleyball from the ball rack and imagined running onto the court for the next Lincoln Middle School Lions game. Next year, she hoped to play at the high school. After that, she’d be on a college team. Eventually, she imagined, she’d be on the U.S. National Team.

  Could it really happen? Could my dreams really come true? she wondered. Layla’s stomach flipped with nervous excitement.

  Layla twirled the volleyball in her hands as she jogged toward a nearby wall. She tossed the ball into the air and smacked it down at an angle so that it hit the ground, then the wall, and then bounced back to her. To make her lifelong dreams come true, Layla would need to work hard on her skills, especially this year. This was Layla’s last season before trying out for the high school team. Playing as a freshman was the next step in her big plan.

  Layla heard her teammates chatting and laughing. She turned toward the locker room doors as they entered the gym.

  “There she is—Layla ‘Ace’ Sanchez!” said Kristy Thompson, Layla’s best friend.

  Layla smiled. Then, to prove she deserved the nickname, she shuffled back to get more distance from the wall. She bounced the ball four times, then tossed it high and a few feet in front of her. Layla jumped up and forward. She hit the ball with her palm, driving it into the base of the wall. When the ball bounced back to her, her teammates cheered and clapped.

  “What’s with all the noise?” asked Coach Eagan, who had come out of her office. She put her clipboard and cell phone on a small table near the door. She walked toward the group of excited girls and said, “I thought this was practice, not a rock concert.”

  “Did you see Layla’s killer jump serve, Coach?” asked Kristy. “It gets better every week! That’s why we’re undefeated!” Kristy gave Layla a high-five.

  “I love the enthusiasm,” said Coach Eagan, “but we have lots of tough games ahead of us. We can’t count only on Layla’s killer jump serve.”

  Layla’s cheeks warmed. Did she think I was showing off? Layla wondered. I hope not. Layla liked her teammates’ praise, but she didn’t want to act like a diva, especially not in front of the new sixth-grade players. Layla’s dad had talked to her a lot about being a true team player.

  “We all have to be at our best, so let’s get to work,” said Coach.

  The girls groaned but quickly spread out to start warm-up drills. Coach Eagan led the players through quad stretches, toy soldier kicks, and shuffles. In the middle of a shuffle, Coach’s cell phone rang.

  “Sorry girls, but I have to answer that,” Coach Eagan said. “I’m expecting a call from the high school coach.” She jogged toward her phone.

  Layla and Kristy exchanged a look. Layla felt the butterflies in her stomach again. Before she answered the call, Coach Eagan said, “Layla, please take over.”

  “Yes, Coach,” Layla said and ran to the front of the group. “Okay, everyone, let’s do squats.”

  Layla did the squats along with the others. First, she swung her arms in big backward circles. Then, she spread her feet wider than shoulder-width apart. She lowered herself like she was sitting in a chair. She held her arms straight out in front of her for balance. After several squats, Layla looked over at Coach Eagan. She was still on the phone.

  “Okay, pick a partner and start passing drills,” Layla called out.

  Layla and Kristy paired up. Layla stood up straight with her back to the net. Kristy stood about eight feet away, facing Layla. Kristy crouched down in the ready position. Kristy’s feet were shoulder-width apart, and her knees were slightly bent. Her arms were bent at the elbows. Her hands were flat and straight, ready to join together when the ball reached her. With two hands, Layla tossed the ball to Kristy in a gentle underhanded arc. Kristy brought her arms together and straightened them. Her wrists and hands were together, her thumbs side by side, and her elbows were locked. She used the flat platform of her forearms to bump the ball back to Layla.

  After a few passes, Layla glanced at Coach Eagan. “I’m dying to know what they’re talking about,” she said to Kristy.

  “Me too,” said Kristy as she bumped the ball back to Layla.

  Layla twirled the ball in her hands and yelled, “Switch!” Everyone changed positions with their partners and started the drill again. Now Kristy tossed the ball to Layla, who bumped it back to Kristy.

  After a few more minutes, Coach Eagan ended the call and walked toward the girls. She thanked Layla for taking over warm-ups and asked the girls to circle up in front of her.

  “I’m sorry about that, but like I said, I was expecting that call from Coach Keating. She plans to attend some of our games and may visit during practices,” Coach said. “She wants to check out possible players for next year’s freshman team.”

  Layla and Kristy exchanged excited looks.

  “She also wanted me to remind the eighth graders about the C rule,” said Coach.

  Layla’s stomach dropped.

  “We know, Coach,” said Maggie Jones, an eighth grader.

  “Well, I’m still going to remind you,” said Coach. “Actually, it’s the perfect time for a refresher because we’re about halfway through the season and the first quarter of school,” said Coach. “Simply put, you must maintain at least a C in all of your classes at all times to participate in any extra activities. That means at least a seventy percent. If your average in a class slips below that, you won’t be allowed to practice or play until you raise your grade.”

  Kristy shrugged like this was no big deal, but Layla sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “The high school also has the C rule, so we want you to get used to it now,” said Coach Eagan. “You must learn how to balance sports and academics.”

  Coach Eagan waited a few moments. “Any questions?” When no one spoke up, she said, “Then let’s get back to work.”

  * * *

  At the end of practice, Layla and Kristy walked across the gym toward the locker room.

  “Are you excited about Coach Keating coming?” asked Kristy.

  “Of course,” said Layla. “I’m a little nervous too.”

  “Nervous? You’re Ace Sanchez! You have nothing to worry about,” Kristy said. Then she jumped and yelled “Boom!” as she pretended to hit a volleyball the way Layla did earlier.

  Layla laughed. “I’m worried about the C rule.”

  “Oh!” Kristy scrunched up her nose and asked, “Math?”

  Layla nodded. “I already have a low C, and it’s only going to get harder.” Layla’s voice was a whisper when she added, “My dad used to help me with math.”

  Kristy reached for Layla’s hand and squeezed it gently. Layla squeezed back before she let go.

  “Well, I can tutor you in algebra, and you can help me with my serve!” Kristy said. “We would be unstoppable on and off the court!”

  Layla laughed as they walked into the locker room. “I’ll think about it,” she said, but all Layla really wanted to think about was making it onto the freshman team. Algebra would have to wait until she could show off her volleyball skills for the high school coach.

  CHAPTER 2

  COMMUNICATION AND TRUST

  That night, Layla sat at the desk in her room doing homework. She finished a worksheet of grammar practice for English and answered questions about the U.S. Constitution for history. She saved algebra for last. When she finally opened her textbook and read the first problem, she instantly felt frustrated. It was about a boy named Jack who wanted to build a tree house. He had a certain amount of lumber and needed to cut it into different sizes. Layla was supposed to come up with the equation and solve it.

  Dad would’ve used toothpicks or Legos or something, Layla thought. She looked around the room but didn’t see anything she could use as a prop. Even if I did find something, what would I do with it? she thought. Dad was the master at this stuff, not me.

  Layla considered asking her mom for help, then laughed. Her dad’s voice echoed in her head: “I’m like a straight line. Mom’s like a pinball machine.”

  Yup, step-by-step is not Mom’s thing, Layla thought. That’s why Dad was my homework helper. Layla slammed the textbook shut and turned on her laptop. She had one tab open to a math practice site and another open to highlights of the U.S. Women’s National Volleyball Team. They had played Brazil in the last Women’s World Cup in Japan.

  Layla muted the sound in case her mom came upstairs. Layla loved how the U.S. National Team moved on the court. They were a well-oiled machine. Each player had her individual job, but they all worked together toward a common goal. Layla’s team did that too, but sometimes they still gave up easy points.

  Communication and trust are important, in the game and in life. That’s what her dad used to say. He had been gone for two years now, and Layla missed him every day.

  Layla’s eyes filled with tears. She quickly wiped them away. Focus on the game, she told herself. That usually helped to push away the sadness.

  A U.S. player’s serve was returned by the Brazilian team in three hits—dig, set, spike. The U.S. libero dropped to her knees and made contact, but the ball went backward and out of bounds. The U.S. setter ran to the ball and bumped it hard back into play. The right-side hitter got under the ball, jumped high, and spiked it. The Brazilian libero dove for the ball but couldn’t keep it in play. Point for Team U.S.A.!

  Layla wanted to turn on the sound to listen to the commentary, but she heard her mom’s footsteps on the stairs. She knew her mom would come into her room before going to bed. It was part of her nightly routine. When her mom was almost at the door, Layla clicked on the other tab on her laptop to display the math practice site.

  “It’s getting late,” her mom said. “Are you almost done with your homework?”

  “Almost,” Layla said.

  “Well, finish up and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I will,” said Layla.

  Mom crossed the room and kissed Layla on top of her head. “Good night. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” said Layla.

  When she heard her mom’s bedroom door close, Layla shoved her books into her backpack and shut down her laptop. She climbed into bed with her cell phone and turned away from the door. If her mom peaked in again, Layla would look like she was sleeping.

  Layla went online and kept watching volleyball highlights on her phone until her eyelids became so heavy she had to close them. As she fell asleep, she dreamed about one day being on that court in front of thousands of cheering fans. Since it was a dream, both of her parents were there.

  CHAPTER 3

  UNDER CONTROL

  The next morning, Layla bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, sweetie,” Mom said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “Good morning,” said Layla. She plopped her backpack onto the floor and checked inside to make sure she had everything she needed.

  “Did you finish all of your homework last night?” Mom asked.

  “Yup,” Layla said.

  I mean, no! she screamed in her head. She hadn’t planned to lie, but it was too late. She remembered her dad’s words about communication and trust. I’ll make this right, she said to herself. I’ll finish my homework before math class. Then the lie won’t count. I just need to learn how to balance everything, like Coach said.

  “And do you have what you need for volleyball practice?” Mom put her coffee mug on the counter and handed Layla a lunch bag.

  Layla nodded. “Everything’s in my gym locker,” she said.

  “Good! I’m so proud of how you’re handling all of your responsibilities this year,” her mom said, smiling.

  Layla gave her a weak smile.

  “Eighth grade can be tough,” Mom said, “and you seem to have everything under control.”

  If I had everything under control, my homework would be done, my math average would be at least a B, and I wouldn’t have lied! Layla thought. She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.

  Layla put her lunch bag into her backpack and zipped it up. She put her arms through the straps and lifted it onto her back. She gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek, grabbed a granola bar from the pantry, and said, “Bye, Mom. Have a good day at work.”

  “Bye. Have a great day at school.”

  On the bus, Layla opened her backpack and pulled out her algebra textbook, a notebook, and a pencil. Layla sat with her back to the bus window and tried to balance the textbook and notebook on her lap. She needed to finish her homework from the night before. Layla complained each time the bus hissed to a hard stop or hit a bump in the road.

  “What the heck?!” Layla shouted.

  Kristy sat in the seat across the aisle from Layla. She shook her head and said, “You’re not going to be able to do your homework on the bus.”

  “Oh yeah? Watch me,” said Layla.

  As the bus stopped and started along its route, Layla’s pencil jammed into the notebook and her book kept falling onto the floor.

  “We need a better driver,” said Layla.

  “The problem isn’t the driver,” Kristy said. “The work is hard. I spent a half hour on that assignment last night.”

  “I have more than a half hour between now and when school starts.”

  “Yeah, but—” Before Kristy could finish her sentence, the bus jolted again as it hit a pothole.

  Layla’s book bounced off the seat and onto the floor.

  “I rest my case,” said Kristy.

  Layla shoved her work into her backpack. She was annoyed with the bus driver for not giving her a smoother ride to school. She was annoyed with Kristy for acting like a know-it-all. She was annoyed with herself for not doing her homework the night before.

  Most of all, she was annoyed with algebra. She didn’t care about finding X or solving for Y. She would never use this in her life… ever!

  CHAPTER 4

  HOMEWORK CHECK

  Layla raced through the hallways to get to her locker. She quickly unloaded everything from her backpack and took out what she needed for her first few classes. She zoomed into homeroom. She hoped to finish her homework during the fifteen minutes used for attendance and announcements.

  Another student, Henry, had the same idea. He had the grammar worksheet on his desk. Just as he was about to start working, Mr. Miller said, “Please put that away, Henry. A student council representative is coming to give us an update on school events. I expect all of you to give him your full attention.”

  Henry groaned as he put away his homework. Great, thought Layla. First the bus driver was against me. Now Mr. Miller and the student council are ruining my plan. Layla wouldn’t have time to finish her homework, and algebra was her first-period class.

  Layla walked into her math class feeling defeated. She took a “warm-up” sheet from the paper tray on Mrs. Fisher’s desk and slid into her assigned seat. Each day, students worked on the warm-up problem while Mrs. Fisher stopped at their desks to check their homework.

  Layla hunched over and shook her head so that her hair fell around her face. Even though she was trying to hide, she knew she couldn’t avoid getting in trouble with both Mrs. Fisher and her mom. Lincoln Middle School had a computerized grading system that updated as soon as teachers put in new grades. Her mom would know that Layla received a zero for the homework she’d said was done. She’d be in trouble for not doing the work and for lying. Layla clutched her stomach. Mom has been through enough the last few years. I don’t want to hurt her even more or give her something new to worry about.

  Layla opened her notebook to the page that should’ve displayed her homework. She pushed the notebook to the upper right corner of her desk and stared at the warm-up problem. When Mrs. Fisher was next to Layla’s desk, Layla kept her eyes down and focused on her paper.

  Mrs. Fisher tapped her pencil’s eraser on top of Layla’s notebook. “What’s this, Ms. Sanchez?”

  Layla sat up straight and looked at Mrs. Fisher. The page was blank except for yesterday’s date and smudge marks made from writing and erasing numbers. “I had trouble with the homework,” she said.

 

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