Blocked (7 page)

“Would you like me to call this off?” Mom asked. “I mean, I don’t know where Lucia will stay, and I know you want to do the kind, caring thing, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“It’s fine,” I managed to say through the guilt tightening my throat. I’d have to deal with the tool’s daughter for a while longer. “I’ll just avoid her.”

“Oh, really?” Her voice elevated on the last syllable, and became breathier. “Thank you so much, dear. I knew you’d make the right choice.”

Yuck.
Plastic Mom had returned. “I gotta go.”

“Bye bye, sweetie!”

When I tossed my phone to the bed, I heard soft murmurs through the wall behind my headboard. I grimaced as my finger traced a jagged line on the light green wallpaper—naturally China had given Lucia the room next to mine. I heard the scrape of furniture on the floor and scowled. The home invasion had begun.

Remnants of my burrito clumped once again like a rock in my belly. I often felt uneasy after conversations with my mother—almost like she’d played me or something. Too bad I didn’t know the rules of the game. Technically I’d just agreed to this living arrangement, but it still didn’t feel right. Class, practice, and dodging the media kicked my ass, and I wanted to feel safe and easy in my home. I just wanted to relax.

My palm smacked the wall. How the hell would I relax with Satan’s spawn taking up residence right next door?

Chapter 5

I’
M
S
O
S
TUPID
. Tears welled up, and I was too tired to fight them. I just let my weakness seep out the corners of my eyes and onto the pillow. One hand wiped away a dribble of snot leaking from my nose while the other clutched the sheets.

When I found out Allison and Frank had picked Dane’s house for my new living quarters, a spark of excitement had bloomed up my spine. Sure, Dane had been belligerent earlier today at practice, but I thought he’d lighten up once he got to know me…once he discovered the good volleyball player I was…once I was able to speak like a normal person in his presence…As soon as he saw past our political differences, I hoped he might eventually start treating me like I wasn’t some Republican leper. But the way he’d just looked at me—the way he’d talked about my dad…It was clear:
He hates me
.

The thought made me cry harder, and now that we were practically bunkmates, I had to stifle a sob to make sure he wouldn’t overhear and know he’d gotten to me. I wished his opinion didn’t matter so much. I wished I didn’t care that I repulsed him.

But ever since I’d seen Dane on TV a year ago, I’d been infatuated. His mother had spoken at a Highbanks rally, and she’d invited him and his little sister up on stage at the end of her speech. Tall, fit, and tan, his blond hair shining in the stage lights, he’d grinned and waved to the crowd.
“I love this state so much my son Dane is a scholarship volleyball player here!”
Senator Monroe had crowed. I’d leaned closer to the TV and felt my heart flutter.
That Adonis plays my sport?
He couldn’t have been more perfect, and I’d devoured media coverage of him ever since.

Now that I’d met him in person, my dream of being his girl had shattered.

Boxes and gym bags littered the thick carpet of the bedroom, and I knew I should get up to unpack. When Allison and China had offered to help me set up my room, I’d waved them off, citing fatigue. But really, I’d known I was seconds from a meltdown, and I couldn’t let them see me cry.

When a growl gurgled in my stomach, I realized I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. More tears fell—I had no clue where the kitchen was in this place. And it wasn’t like Dane would graciously give me the grand tour. Not to mention I wanted to avoid having him see me eat. He probably already thought I ate like a pig, given my size.

With a sigh, I covered my eyes with my forearm. I was even too tired to dig out my mp3 player and listen to some Neil Diamond. It wasn’t quite eight p.m., but maybe I should crash early and put this awful first day at Highbanks behind me. At least I knew the next day couldn’t get any worse.

Or so I thought. The next morning, I felt chilled sitting in Coach Holter’s air-conditioned office in my sweaty uniform. Or maybe it was his frosty stare.

“That was a solid practice, Lucia.”

Not what I’d expected him to say, and I let out a breath. “Thanks.”

“Susie wasn’t kidding when she said you’re a skilled hitter. I’m excited to have the Lone Star Player of the Year in the lineup.”

Why is he being so nice to me?

“But there are definitely some areas of your game you need to improve.”

Ah.
This
was what I’d expected. “I know. My passes aren’t very good.”

“You’re right. We’ll work with you on your technique. What I was talking about needing improvement, though, was your blocking.”

“My…blocking?” My forehead wrinkled.
I thought that was my forte
.

“Yes. You’re not getting to the double block quickly enough. You need to get fitter.”

Like more muscular?
I blinked several times, trying to discern what he was telling me. I already killed it in the weight room…

“I want you to meet with the sports nutritionist.”

Oh, Dios!
The realization knocked into my substantial belly with a thud: he thought I was fat.
I am fat
.

“Now where
is
that nutritionist’s card?” He dug around his immaculate desk as my throat tightened with imminent tears.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Brian!” he hollered, and I flinched in my chair.

The assistant coach stuck his head into the office. “What do you need?”

Oh, no
. My breaths were coming quick and shallow, and I braced myself against the panic I knew would follow.

“Do you have Whitney’s card? I want Lucia to see her.”

Brian squinted at me. “You okay?”

Now Coach stared at me too. I nodded, too freaked to speak.
Don’t cry.

“Lucia, calm down,” Coach said. “Whitney will help you get lighter and faster, so you’ll block more effectively. She’ll improve your chances of actually getting some playing time.”

My heart raced. Was he saying if I don’t lose weight, I’d ride the bench all season? That would be so humiliating, especially with all of America watching!

Brian came back in the office—I hadn’t noticed him leave—and handed me a business card.

“Call her today,” Coach ordered. “I want you working on your fitness as soon as possible.”

I nodded, feeling nausea climb up my throat. Trembling overtook my body, and I knew I’d lose it any second. “Can I go shower?”

Coach stared at me like he was about to call the psych hospital. Finally, he said, “You can go.”

I bolted past Brian and ran to the locker room, praying my teammates had already left.

“Lucia!” Allison called from the hallway. “What happened?”

I ignored her. Tears streamed down my face as I launched myself into a bathroom stall. My shaking hands took ten years to lock the door.
I’m fat. I’m fat. I’m not fit enough to play on this team. I’m fat.
I yanked some toilet paper off the roll to blow my nose.
No guy will ever love me…especially Dane. I’m fat.
My chest was so tight it was hard to breathe, and I turned to the toilet in case I had to throw up. But I’d only eaten a banana for breakfast, so there probably wasn’t anything left to vomit.
I’m fat. I’m fat.
I would never eat again if that would be my only shot to play for that bastard.

Besides my internal fat mantra, it was quiet, and I gave silent thanks that Allison hadn’t followed me in. Then I heard footsteps from the locker area and braced myself against the bathroom stall, but that person walked out the door. I exhaled as I closed my eyes—and realized how tired I was. Morning practice had been grueling, but I thought I’d done well. Coach devised the toughest, most ingenious drills, and it had actually been fun to challenge myself.

I sighed. It wouldn’t be fun anymore, knowing he thought I was too fat to play for him. I grabbed a bulge of inner thigh and shuddered in disgust.

“Lucia?”

Oh, crap—that was Maddie’s voice. I heard the door shut behind her as her footsteps neared.

“Lucia?” She was close to my stall now. “Did you just get sick?”

When I looked down at my feet facing the toilet, I understood her question. “No, I’m fine.” My shaking voice betrayed me. I slowly turned around but didn’t open the door. I couldn’t let anyone see me like this.

“Allison sent me in here to check on you.”

I narrowed my eyes.
Damn Secret Service!

“Are you feeling okay?”

I drew in a breath. “Yeah.”

“Are you crying?”

“No.”
Liar
.

“Wait a minute.” Maddie’s voice sharpened. “Coach wanted to meet with you after practice.” I saw her feet inch closer to the stall. “What’d he say?”

Hijole
. How could I admit to the team captain that Coach thought I was too ginormous to block effectively? Maddie probably thought the same thing.

“Don’t listen to him, Lucia. He plays mind games, especially with the freshmen. Don’t take him seriously.”

Mind games?
His words seemed pretty straightforward to me:
You’re fat.
Well, he’d used the code words “You need to get fitter,” but I’d caught their meaning. Loud and clear.

“Hey, I’m going to grab some lunch…want to come?”

That
certainly wouldn’t fit with my never-eat-again plan. “No…thanks. I don’t think Secret Service would let me.”

“That sucks. It’s like your parents are here with you, hovering every second.”

I’d never thought of it that way, but she was kind of right. Except Allison and Frank were nowhere near as comforting as my parents, because they barely knew me. I still hadn’t heard from my dad about my new residence.

“So, will you
ever
come out of that bathroom stall?”

I pressed my palms against the cool, safe walls. “No.”

She laughed. “Okaaay, then.”

She probably thought I was way cray.

“I’ll come back and fetch you for afternoon practice at two-thirty.”

“Thanks, Maddie.” My voice trembled.

“Hang in there. Freshman year was tough for me, too. Things will get better.”

As her footsteps faded, I let out a breath.
Would
things improve? What if they didn’t, once classes started? I’d be stuck at this stupid school for at least a few months because it would reflect badly on my dad if I left before the election. If I bailed, I could just picture the headlines: