The girl staggers to the edge of the parking lot, where the waterboy sits waiting for her. Realizing that by some lucky twist of fate she has arrived at the only available water source before the others, she greedily snatches up a hose and squirts the water into her mouth, soaking the collar of her sweaty t-shirt in the process. She finds she doesn't care, as a sense of revitalizing coolness has swept over her. Suddenly aware of her parched teammates behind her, she swiftly moves out of the way, moving towards the shelter of the shade trees just a few feet away. She sits down hard with exhaustion, all the while protecting the precious shaft of black wood in her hands from hitting the coarse concrete of the ground. Her three friends join her, taking the same care with the objects in their own hands. The four teenagers sit in silence, catching their breath. They feel no need to talk as each knows what the others would say. Two minutes later, the sound of a highly-polished whistle pierces the air. The kids spring to their feet, and with nothing more than a parting glance, they return to their respective spots under the unforgiving August sun. There will be time to talk later, when the complaints held in during this, the first of the morning's breaks, cannot be contained any longer. Snapping to attention, she focuses only on her orders, not allowing the sun or the sweat or the glare off the pavement to distract her from her goals. Yes, there will be time to talk later, when focus is something that she can afford to lose.