Annie POV

The High School

Quinn, Joan and I stood in the locker room, each of us changing into our jerseys, the rest of the team already dressed and out on the court. Three games down already today, moving up through the tournament, and we were near exhausted.

It wasn't as if we could use our powers to give us stamina. The school system already had a near fit about us playing, knowing we were oddballs. They said it gave us an advantage. Quinn, maybe, but Joan and I had no leg up in volleyball being able to control fire and manipulate the dead.

Joan slipped the royal blue jersey on over her head, I tied my hair up in a top knot, and Quinn fastened her ankle braces. We had changed to go and eat, but now changing back into sweaty jerseys was a disgusting, but necessary, feat.

A knock on the door.

'It's Klaus, are you naked?', he said, making me laugh, Joan and Quinn smiled.

'Butt naked.', I said back, joking.

'Oh, yeah, I'll leave then.', he said.

'Nah dad, come in, were dressed.'

He bust through the door, looking nervous, and then propping his hands up on his hips. His outfit. My gosh, what was going on?

'Dad, why are you wearing a coach's shirt?', I asked, my eyes growing wild as I looked over to Quinn, who looked equally as confused.

'So, funny story actually, I was driving out to get you guys some snacks, ya know, because sustenance! And then it just so happens that coach Watson was walking across the parking lot right as a Gloria Gaynor song came on the radio, and I spazzed out, and then I accidentally hit him with my car.', he said, biting his lip.

'Dad!', I said, shocked, raising my hands to behind my head as Joan's mouth dropped to the floor.

'Don't worry, don't worry!', he said, patting me on the shoulder. 'So they just took him off in the ambulance that I called for, and then stats keeper was like 'We're about to play Northwestern! And we don't have a coach!'', he explained, waving his hands around.

My absolute gosh.

All three of us stood looking at him in shock as he continued to wave his hands around, explaining in the most extra way possible.

'So I looked at the stat checker and I was like 'I've got this, Susan.' And she almost choked on her tongue, but I linked arms with her and started walking back into the gym before she could protest, so then I changed into this shirt, and I feel so very official.'

'I'm... speechless.', Quinn said, covering her mouth and trying to stifle a laugh.

'I know, right! It's like I've been waiting my entire life for this opportunity. I've always wanted to coach a volleyball team.', he said, clapping.

'Since when, dad?', I said, questioning him as I laughed, still kind of shocked.

'Since today, but shhhh!', he said, putting a finger to my lips and giggling.

He looked at us very seriously, changing his expression quickly.

'Now get out on the court and warm up.', he said, pointing a finger at us.

We laughed, and I did a joking army salute. 'Sir yes sir.'

The three of us ran down the hall and into the gym, where we were met by a sight that scared us straight.

Northwestern's entire team was 5'10 or more, like giants walking around the court. Quinn was 5'11, but Joan and I were both under 5'8 and terrified.

We stopped in the door way. Quinn patted us both on the back, standing in the middle of us.

'Don't give two craps, sis.', she said, reassuring us. We looked at her, nodded, and then walked in confidently.

Dad huddled everyone together, now wearing a Hawaiian lei over his coaching shirt (how did he even get that?) holding white board and aggressively drawing x's and o's and squiggly lines and talking nonsense as we approached.

'Okay, you, what's your name?'

'Sara.'

'Yeah, we're changing that. Your name is Sasha now.', he said, and then went back to his white board.

Sara looked at another girl, and then shrugged.

'Okay, Sasha, you're a middle blocker, right?', he asked, pointing his dry erase marker at her.

'Yeah...'

'Cool! So guess what you're going to do. Instead of just blocking them, you're going to give them death stares throughout the entire game, and growl when you go up to block. Very intensely. And they're going to have the crap intimidated out of them.', he said, assured of himself.

'O.. okay.',

'You! Name please?', he said, pointing to another girl.

'Jennifer.'

'Okay Jenny, position?'

'Libero.', she said, pointing to her different colored jersey.

'What in the name of Leonardo Dicaprio is that?', he said, letting his hands holding his whiteboard and marker fall down to his sides in his confusion.

'Dad, it means she plays backrow and subs in for people having trouble up in the back.', I said, laughing and rubbing my temples.

'Ah yes, so she's like the screw up replacement?', he said, smiling excitedly.

I cringed. 'Essentially.'

'Great, we have insurance for when Joan can't get crap going!', he said, causing all three of our mouths to drop open wide.

'Annie, Joan, Quinn, outside hitter, setter, and middle blocker, right?'

We nodded.

'Awesome. Destroy them. No further advice.'

We nodded again.

He started scribbling something on his board, and mumbling something about Destiny's Child. As he fiddled, he hummed a Fallout Boy song (my influence).

'Okay! Forget all this crap.', he said, throwing the board up at his side and erasing it aggressively with his hand. He scribbled a bit more, his face intense and concentrated as we all watched in confusion.

'Here!', he said, lifting up the board to reveal that he'd drawn a smiley face with devil horns, holding a handgun.

'The devil with a pistol?', I asked.

'No, sweetie, it's Satan with a gun.', he said, eyeing me, and then showing the board to the rest of the girls in the huddle. 'This girls. This is your new mascot. Forget the Sharks. Our team mascot is now Satan with a gun.', he said, pointing with his marker to the gun, and then to the horns for emphasis.

'Your dad is insane...', one of our backrows whispered to me, nudging my arm to get my attention.

'And you know what, girls?'

'What?'

'Satan with a gun would never lose a fight to a stupid flipping panther. Okay?', he said, making a reference to the other team's mascot. 'A panther is like a water balloon, and then Satan with a gun comes in and just claws his way through the water balloon skin... sends the water going everywhere... the water balloon starts weeping terribly... his feelings are very hurt but mostly his pride, and his internal organs... you get the picture, right?'

We all nodded slowly, and I looked around to see some heavily confused faces, but I understood his analogy despite it being one of the weirdest I'd ever heard him come up with.

I zoned out for a moment, letting my eyes wander to the crowd, and land on a man dressed in a black hoodie and dark khaki pants. He wore dark sunglasses. Taking them off, his eyes landed directly on me, and when I looked away and came back, his gaze hadn't shifted.

Chills went down my spine. Creepy.

Someone tapped my arm, bringing my attention back into the conversation.

'Got it, Annie?', dad asked, smiling, proud of himself.

'Got what?'

He frowned fakely.

'Sorry I was zoned out.'

'Don't be a Britney Spears, okay, because then you'll get crushed like an armadillo on the way to Alabama.', he said, nodding.

I just nodded like I completely understood what he meant.

The ref's whistle blew, informing us that we needed to get out onto the court.

'Okay girls, go out there and do what I taught you.'

We walked out onto the court.

'What exactly did he teach us?', Quinn asked, standing in front of me as we got into our rotation.

'I'm not quite sure. But apparently, don't be a Britney Spears.'

We shrugged it off, laughing as we got ready to switch into our places.

Sara served first, sending the ball over the net to the other team. They didn't return it. Ace.

'Wooooo! And what do we say girls?', dad shouted, looking exuberant.

We all looked at him with confused faces.

'What?', I mouthed.

'We say; suck on that!', he yelled back to me, happy with himself.

'NO!'

The other coach looked at him from across the stats table, appalled.

Sara went up to serve again, sending it over, and the other team returned it with a strong spike. Jennifer got it up, sending it to Joan, and Quinn came in for a nice middle hit.

'That's my ape niece!', dad yelled out, and without context, it definitely sounded like an insult to anyone who wasn't in our family and heard it. The down ref patted him on the shoulder, smiling and nodding to him, silently telling him to calm down. He smiled widely at him.

Another play. A bad call got made, and he started to lose his marbles.

'Okay, c'mon, Stacey, that was such a double! Are you blind?', he said, waving his wands at the ref.

'Settle down, coach.', the ref said from across the court as she motioned for another play to start.

I saw him mouthing some words under his breath as he sat down in his chair. 'That beyotch Stacey.'

I looked back up to the bleachers at the end of another play, after I'd gotten a good kill. The crowd gathered for us clapped, but the man who I'd previously seen staring at me looked me dead in the eyes and clapped slowly. He didn't move. I made a face at him, and he smiled back creepily.

I was a bit uncomfortable now. This was highly suspicious.

The game continued on, play after play, until it was the fifth set of a very tight game. We were all exhausted, ready to be done, but if we could just get five more points, we'd win this entire tournament.

Dad huddled us together, crouching down with his white board and squiggling something across it. He drew for a moment.

'I've come up with a new play.'

'Oh boy.'

'It's called the electric lightning death maneuver.', he said, nodding vigorously.He explained it out, pointing to our positions, filling us in on what we were supposed to do.

I nudged Joan and Quinn. 'This is crazy, but it might actually work.'

'Okay girls, gotta get back out there, 'Britney Spears' armadillo' on three!'

'One, two, three, Britney Spears' armadillo!'

We raced out to the court, setting up. Running the play, Jennifer got the ball up, passing to Joan, who quick set to Quinn, I covered for her, and the ball came flying down on the other team at warp speed. We all looked at each other in amazement.

Running that maneuver four more times, we won the game, and the other team was ticked as badgers.

'Oh my gosh!', dad yelled, freaking out. 'Did we win?'

'Yes, dad, we won!', I said, hugging him as he ran into the huddle in the middle of the court.

'I coached a winning team!'

'Yeah you did!'

We all gathered there, the officials brought us our trophy, took our team picture, and then we were all able to let out a sigh of relief. Well, all but me.

The man in the bleachers was still continually staring at me, turning his head and grinning whenever I'd make eye contact.

As Quinn, Joan and I walked off to the locker room to change, I tapped Joan on the shoulder.

'So there's this creepy guy that's been staring at me the entire game.', I said, pointing to him. He waved slightly as she looked back.

She put a hand on my back and pushed me forward. 'Just ignore him. Probably just some old pervert creeper.'

While we changed back into our sweatpants and t shirts, I had a pit in my stomach. Who was this guy, what did he want, and why was he so obsessed with me?

I came out of the locker room, keeping my face down in my phone to avoid his gaze until I got to dad. I hugged him, and then looked back up.

'What's wrong, diva cup?'

'Um, do you know that man?', I asked, pointing at him subtly. 'He's been staring at me through literally the entire game.'

Dad's facial expressions immediately changed as he saw the man, seemingly recognizing him.

'It can't be...'

'Who is it, dad?', I asked, wanting to know.

'Get to the car, now.'

'Dad, why?'

'I need you to take Quinn and Joan and go to the car, you need to leave the building as soon as possible.'

'Dad, what's going on?'

'Annie, just go.', he said, very serious. I knew he meant it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as I turned and walked away, and I saw that he was calling Five before I turned around. My heart pounded as I grabbed the other girls and we walked out, tempted to look back, but too scared that I might see him.