Sam groaned as she shuffled into Lancer's class. Already she hated this day. It was a Monday morning, her muscles ached so much she could hardly walk, and she was just informed that tryouts were tomorrow instead of Friday.

"Class, just to remind you, your essays are due today. Turn it in late and it's an automatic fifty percent off, NO EXCEPTIONS." Lancer raised his voice to be heard over the sudden spike of chatter in his classroom.

Great. Another thing to add to the list. Sam face palmed herself. The one thing she just had to forget was her essay, which was lying on her desk at home. There goes this quarter's English grade. Sam thought to herself. This was turning out to definitely not be her week, and the school hadn't even officially started yet! Stupid bet.

Sam stumbled out of the school, happy that those seven evil nightma- I mean, periods, were over.

"Sam!" The voice of Danny sounded a few feet behind her. Here's the debate, turn around and hear him talking about me needing to practice more, or start running as fast as I can towards home. Sam cracked a smirk, then nearly fell to the ground when one of her muscles spasmed, reminding her, right, I can hardly run right now BECAUSE OF STUPID VOLLEYBALL TRAINING!

Unfortunately, Danny and Tucker managed to reach her while she slowed, trying to rub away the stinging pain.

"Sam, did you hear that try outs got moved to tomorrow?" Tucker asked.

"Um, how could I not? They announced it on the intercom, remember?" Sam rolled her eyes.

"So guess what we're going to have to do tonight?" Danny smiled. Idiot. Why was he so happy about her pain from drilling her hard that weekend? He may have upheld his promise that she'd only be forced to practice volleyball for two hours, but the weekend was tough, with around four hours a day of constant drillings with workouts. They used up pretty much every ab-burning, thigh-killing workout there was. They even had her do up-downs. Wasn't that for football, or something?

Of course Sam had refused at first, but after several decent threats and blackmails, and the reason that she "needed to be more fit to be prepared" (this was coming from two guys that she could probably lap twice in the mile) Sam had agreed, later wishing she used the classic "guys hugging makes every yearbook memorable" threat. Her muscles would be happier if she did. At least her eyes weren't sore so she could give Danny one of her best icy glares that were usually reserved for Paulina, but right now she was willing to make an exception.

"Hmmm, maybe something as horrible as twice as much volleyball practice tonight?"

"Nope!" Danny smiled.

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Really?" She started to tear up with happiness.

"Instead, it's three times as much practice!"

"WHAT?" Sam seriously considered faking a faint.

"It's ok, Sam. You can take comfort that there might be someone out there who's having a worse day than you. Maybe." Tucker pointed out, receiving a sharp blow from Sam's boot.

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"Why should I learn setting? What if I don't wanna be the setter?" Sam whined.

Danny facepalmed. This was going to be a loooong practice. "Setting is vital for any volleyball player to know how to do, even if they aren't the setter. Tucker, would you like to continue teaching Sam the art of setting? I didn't do my essay, so I need to go work on it."

"The art of setting? What is this, art history class?" Sam folded her arms.

Tucker chuckled evilly while gripping the volleyball tightly. "I am going to have much fun drilling in how to set."

"While doing that, just remember how many cruel pranks I could do to you during the lab in biology tomorrow."

"Right. I was kidding about that. Ha-ha." Tucker inched a little bit away.

"So…. You set like this, right?" Sam picked up the volleyball and tossed it into the air, then put her arms up in the air, only to have them pulled down by Tucker. "What?" She put her hands on her hips.

"We can't rush into this, you know. I first need to tell you the importance of setting."

"And, uh, why?" Sam rolled her eyes.

"Because, you don't really get the importance of knowing how to set, which is really important. You must believe in something first if you want to put all your heart into it, because"-

"Tucker?"

"-er, yeah?"

"What would I have to do to make you believe that I have a notebook filled with ways to create slow and painful deaths for you when times like this comes along? Just tell me how to set the freakin ball so I can go home sooner."

"But"-

"TUCKER, JUST SHOW HER HOW TO SET THE STUPID BALL!" Both Danny and Jazz shouted from their open windows.

"Fine, fine, but trust me, you'll regret it during one of your games, trust me." He tossed the ball in the air, put his arms directly above him, and had his fingers making a triangular-like shape, only spread slightly apart. The ball came back down to land lightly on the edges of his spread out finger, then forced back up into the air.

"Can I try now?" Sam asked. (not as if she wanted to, she just wanted to get tonight's practice over with.)

"Sure." Tucker tossed the ball over to Sam, unfortunately a little too far. She started to back up to be able to get the ball, not noticing the small crater that must have been made by a Fenton bazooka when it missed a target. "SAM, LOOK OUT!" Tucker called out a little too late. Sam's right leg fell into it, causing her body to collapse from not being prepared for the sudden large dip.

"OWWWWWWWW!" Sam cried out, clutching her ankle.

"Sam!" Danny jumped out of the window and ran towards her.

"JAAZZZ! Get your first aid kit!"

"Come on, Danny, it's not a big deal." Sam struggled to stand up, then fell from the pain that surged through her body when pressure was applied to the ankle. "Ok… Maybe it is a big deal."

"Coming!" She rushed out of the door a moment later, first aid kit in hand.

She felt various places of the ankle, occasionally checking with Sam on whether or not some of the spots she touched hurt. "Hmmm, it's definitely injured, but not that bad. I think it's just a sprain. You'll just need to keep off of that ankle until it's fully healed."

"Oh great. I always wanted to show up at school looking like a bunch of cupids attacked me." Sam groaned sarcastically as she hobbled with the others back inside to Fenton Works.