Amy spent the night downstairs, turning the furnace up all the way to keep warm. When she woke up, she felt curiously strong.
"This calls for some music," she muttered, looking through her cd's. Finally finding the one she wanted, she put it in the stereo and swallowed a few times before the music came through. 'It Came Upon A Midnight Clear' drifted through the speakers, and Amy began to sing. This was a source of comfort for her, more so than basketball and training and running. Nothing cleared her head better than a good song session. Closing her eyes, Amy wandered to the middle of the room, standing near the pool table. She straightened her torso, stood upright, and focused on the high notes. She was pretty sure she was a soprano, but no one had ever told her for sure.
Slowly, she came down from her daze as the song ended. Nothing like it on heaven or earth. Apparently, Tess thought so as well.
"Baby, that was beautiful," she said, smiling.
"Uh—" She croaked, spinning around. "I, uh…" No one had ever heard her sing before, except… "What are you doing down here?"
"I came to wake you up. Breakfast is ready. The cook made pancakes."
"Oh." Amy breathed out, reaching for her crutches. "There's a game tonight, isn't there?"
Tess looked at her. "You don't seriously think you're going to play, do you?"
"No, I just—want to be there. I can watch from the bench. I should still go, right?" Amy turned pleading eyes on her guardian. "Couldn't I call Andrew and ask him to pick me up? Oh, wait." She sighed, dejected. "I don't know his number."
"Isn't he coming this morning?"
"Yeah." She said. "I guess."
"What's wrong?"
Amy clenched her teeth. "Nothing. Pancakes, huh?" She tried to get past, but Tess barred the door with her arm.
"You listen, baby, and listen good. Getting upset is not going help you."
"I'm not upset." She pushed through. "I'm fine. I'm always fine."
Andrew came an hour later, and after fifteen minutes, left again. "I don't know, Tess," he said. "What does it take?"
"Love, baby." She said, bouncing Christopher on her knee. "That child's in need of some good old-fashioned TLC. And you're going to be the one to give it to her. You're the only one she seems to listen to."
"Me?" Andrew didn't understand. "I'm not getting through to her, Tess, although you know I've been trying."
"She sang this morning, Andrew." Tess said. "She only does that when she's happy. And she hasn't been happy for some time now. I think you're starting to help."
"I hope so. I can't explain it, Tess, but she's got this hold on me. And—"
"Listen, Angel Boy, I know it's hard. But try not to get too attached to this girl. We won't be leaving for a while, and if it's going to break your heart when we do, then something's going to have to give. You know that."
Andrew sighed. "I know. I'll be back at five to pick her up."
Amy waited impatiently on the front porch until Andrew drove up in a red Cadillac. "Hop in, Amy." He said, opening the door for her.
"Cool car." She said admiringly.
"Thanks. It's not mine, though; it belongs to a friend. Mine's in the shop."
"Oh. So…" Amy pulled out a piece of paper.
"What's that?"
"Scouting report. Big game tonight, you know." And I can't play… Amy shook her head. "We're gonna have to play our best."
"I'll take whatever help you can give me," Andrew said, grinning. "Somehow I think you'll do a better job than me."
"We'll see." Suddenly Amy was quiet, looking at the landscape as they drove to the school. "We'll see."
"Sara, screen! Screen!" Amy shouted from the bench, watching her friend fight around the larger opponent in time to get to the ball. "Dang. That was close."
Andrew bit his lip, looking at the clock. He could tell this game meant a lot to Amy, and the score was tied with ten seconds left. Suddenly, the other team lost control of the ball and it bounced out of bounds at half court.
"Time out. Andrew, call a time out!" Amy hissed, and he complied. "Ok, guys, we're gonna run Jordan. Trina, bring it up, set the screens hard…"
"But—" Trina looked puzzled.
"What?" Amy asked.
"This is a play for you. It calls for a three."
"Oh. Shoot, you're right. Ok. Pack it in. Same play, close up. The shot should be about the free-throw line. Sara, you're the shooter."
Sara's eyes widened. "Me?"
"Girl, listen. You never miss that shot. You're not going to miss it now. And even if you did, it's not like we've lost. We still got overtime. Ok? Don't even sweat it."
She sighed. "Ok."
Andrew looked at Amy, admiration open on his face. She saw it. "What?"
"That was a good speech."
"Yeah, well, let's just hope it got through." She started tapping the play board against her thigh in agitation. "Come on, come on, Trina, set that up… ok… oh, God, please…" Andrew watched her fold her hands and hold them against her mouth as her friend caught the ball and shot it…
"This calls for some music," she muttered, looking through her cd's. Finally finding the one she wanted, she put it in the stereo and swallowed a few times before the music came through. 'It Came Upon A Midnight Clear' drifted through the speakers, and Amy began to sing. This was a source of comfort for her, more so than basketball and training and running. Nothing cleared her head better than a good song session. Closing her eyes, Amy wandered to the middle of the room, standing near the pool table. She straightened her torso, stood upright, and focused on the high notes. She was pretty sure she was a soprano, but no one had ever told her for sure.
Slowly, she came down from her daze as the song ended. Nothing like it on heaven or earth. Apparently, Tess thought so as well.
"Baby, that was beautiful," she said, smiling.
"Uh—" She croaked, spinning around. "I, uh…" No one had ever heard her sing before, except… "What are you doing down here?"
"I came to wake you up. Breakfast is ready. The cook made pancakes."
"Oh." Amy breathed out, reaching for her crutches. "There's a game tonight, isn't there?"
Tess looked at her. "You don't seriously think you're going to play, do you?"
"No, I just—want to be there. I can watch from the bench. I should still go, right?" Amy turned pleading eyes on her guardian. "Couldn't I call Andrew and ask him to pick me up? Oh, wait." She sighed, dejected. "I don't know his number."
"Isn't he coming this morning?"
"Yeah." She said. "I guess."
"What's wrong?"
Amy clenched her teeth. "Nothing. Pancakes, huh?" She tried to get past, but Tess barred the door with her arm.
"You listen, baby, and listen good. Getting upset is not going help you."
"I'm not upset." She pushed through. "I'm fine. I'm always fine."
Andrew came an hour later, and after fifteen minutes, left again. "I don't know, Tess," he said. "What does it take?"
"Love, baby." She said, bouncing Christopher on her knee. "That child's in need of some good old-fashioned TLC. And you're going to be the one to give it to her. You're the only one she seems to listen to."
"Me?" Andrew didn't understand. "I'm not getting through to her, Tess, although you know I've been trying."
"She sang this morning, Andrew." Tess said. "She only does that when she's happy. And she hasn't been happy for some time now. I think you're starting to help."
"I hope so. I can't explain it, Tess, but she's got this hold on me. And—"
"Listen, Angel Boy, I know it's hard. But try not to get too attached to this girl. We won't be leaving for a while, and if it's going to break your heart when we do, then something's going to have to give. You know that."
Andrew sighed. "I know. I'll be back at five to pick her up."
Amy waited impatiently on the front porch until Andrew drove up in a red Cadillac. "Hop in, Amy." He said, opening the door for her.
"Cool car." She said admiringly.
"Thanks. It's not mine, though; it belongs to a friend. Mine's in the shop."
"Oh. So…" Amy pulled out a piece of paper.
"What's that?"
"Scouting report. Big game tonight, you know." And I can't play… Amy shook her head. "We're gonna have to play our best."
"I'll take whatever help you can give me," Andrew said, grinning. "Somehow I think you'll do a better job than me."
"We'll see." Suddenly Amy was quiet, looking at the landscape as they drove to the school. "We'll see."
"Sara, screen! Screen!" Amy shouted from the bench, watching her friend fight around the larger opponent in time to get to the ball. "Dang. That was close."
Andrew bit his lip, looking at the clock. He could tell this game meant a lot to Amy, and the score was tied with ten seconds left. Suddenly, the other team lost control of the ball and it bounced out of bounds at half court.
"Time out. Andrew, call a time out!" Amy hissed, and he complied. "Ok, guys, we're gonna run Jordan. Trina, bring it up, set the screens hard…"
"But—" Trina looked puzzled.
"What?" Amy asked.
"This is a play for you. It calls for a three."
"Oh. Shoot, you're right. Ok. Pack it in. Same play, close up. The shot should be about the free-throw line. Sara, you're the shooter."
Sara's eyes widened. "Me?"
"Girl, listen. You never miss that shot. You're not going to miss it now. And even if you did, it's not like we've lost. We still got overtime. Ok? Don't even sweat it."
She sighed. "Ok."
Andrew looked at Amy, admiration open on his face. She saw it. "What?"
"That was a good speech."
"Yeah, well, let's just hope it got through." She started tapping the play board against her thigh in agitation. "Come on, come on, Trina, set that up… ok… oh, God, please…" Andrew watched her fold her hands and hold them against her mouth as her friend caught the ball and shot it…