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Show on That afternoon when she passed by the coach's' office her way to the locker room, Miss Fites was sitting at her desk, her legs outstretched on the desktop, reading a magazine. All day long Kim had thought about asking the coach to reconsider Pilar, but had finally rejected the whole idea for fear that it might risk her own position on the team. All she needed was to now was loose favor with the coach, as well as having lost her stereo. Eyeing the coach carefully, she walked slowly by the office. Suddenly, without ever having thought of going into the office, her feet marched mechanically, as if guided by some force outside her control, through the doorway-smack in front of Miss Fites. The coach looked up from her copy of Womensports. "May I help you?" "I-I-It's about the team," Kim managed to stammer. Unfortunately, the outside force was not guiding her mouth. "Congratulations again on making it. I took a lot of flack for choosing a freshman, but I think it will be worth it. You play good ball for a ninth grader." "Thank you," Kim said. Ordinarily, she would have devoured such a compliment, but now she was too focused on Pilar to think about anything else. "But I've come about someone who didn't make the team." "Oh?" Miss Fites went back to reading her magazine. "Pilar Casteneda." She could hardly spit out the name. 104 |
