Chapter 3: Daria Digs
"Ah crap," Mai said as she retrieved the balls from the pickup bed. She waved at a court surrounded by chain-link fence. "They took down the fucking nets. Everything was up when Pris and I were here a couple days ago."
"Maybe Lawndale Park 'N' Rec crews needed nets to catch some big carp," Daria said as she surveyed the park and wondered if she were up to this. "Pris?"
"Priscilla Ling. She's 'that other Ling' but she's Scandihoovian, go figure. She's on the varsity team too; she's good. Pris and I come here with Siobhan sometimes. Vonny—Siobhan—just runs around—boring—while Pris and I try to murder each other with volleyballs. Sometimes if Vonny feels like it she'll serve a few to us. She serves pretty wussy but she's getting better. 'Course we can't run fifteen-hundred damn meters as fast as her either."
Daria had an idea just then that she filed away to play around with when she wrote at her computer or notebook that evening: when you meet a new person it was like finding a whole new city or school.
"Meet a new person; yep, that's always been a number one priority with you, Morgendorffer," Daria reflected. Then again, she hadn't known Jane Lane for long but it seemed like they had been best friends forever. "And Mai? We'll see."
They walked to the shelter house near the two volleyball courts. Mai's predictions were correct. It was a large park with high, old trees and wide lawns but nearly deserted. A couple of old men walked dogs. Kids ran around a play structure while a few parents chatted.
"You might know Pris," Mai speculated. "I think I saw old bat Li giving you and her and the badminton queen and the other newbies the grand tour on your first day. She's a tall drink of water. Pris had kind of a stick up her…rear for the longest time but she's way cool now."
"Yeah, I know her a little. Everybody's a tall drink of water compared to me, I'm beginning to come to terms with that."
Mai chuckled and gave Daria a nervous pat on the arm. She had suddenly dropped into eye avoidance mode again.
"Anyway, the changing room's in the women's can on the other side of the building. I'll warm up. Oh, did you bring kneepads? Put 'em on, I decided. Asphalt's hard."
"Harder than my ass?" Daria joked, again surprising herself. "Mai, you're corrupting me."
Mai grinned, "Happy to. Now run along."
Daria found the changing room to be small but very clean. She put on her gym shorts and shoes and her blue gym tee with the big yellow 'L'. Her knee protection hung loose and crookedly. After stowing her civilian clothes in her pack she went out.
She heard step step wham thump sounds before she rounded the corner of the building. Daria paused to listen to quick steps, a sharp almost metallic wham followed a split second later by a solid thump. Sometimes the thump was followed by a jangling impact with the chain link fence.
Daria came around the corner and stopped in her tracks. Mai stood behind the back line. She bounced the ball a couple times then threw it up high and ahead of her. She accelerated quickly in just a couple steps, jumped and smacked the ball hard. There was no net but judging from the poles the serve would have easily cleared before coming down sharply in the bounds of the opposite side. Mai's hair was bound back tightly in her habitual red and white love-in-Tokyos. She paused to retrieve her serves. Kids and parents on the playground were staring at her as avidly as Daria.
"What took you so long? Here." She shot a ball at Daria who managed to catch it awkwardly by trapping it against her chest.
"Those are some sorry-ass knee pads," Mai said disapprovingly. "But I guess they'll do for today. Got any money? We'll stop at Dega Street Sporting Goods and get you something new."
Mai seemed to have lost her case of nerves but she was all business-like as she put the balls down carefully.
"Let's start with the basic bump or pass. Do you remember anything from what Morris showed you civilians?"
"No," Daria admitted. "I was dreaming of a tropical island beach and Quinn buried in sand up to her neck."
"I probably was too at that point, without the torture your sister part. Okay, this position is what we use to stop a serve and pass it to the player who sets up a hitter to spike. In theory, anyway. Now put your hands together like this." Mai quickly put her hands together with thumbs touching and arms straight.
Daria tried to copy and Mai slapped her hands gently. "Okay, I just tricked you to make a point. You just made the classic newbie mistake, Daria. Don't weave your fingers together. Don't interlace 'em. A hard serve might break 'em. Make a loose fist with the hand you don't write with and wrap the other hand around that. Like this, see?"
"Break my fingers? I thought this wasn't a contact sport. Maybe I should just join the football team. You're an evil coach by the way."
"Happy to be of service. Maybe not the team; you'd look great as a cheerleader and that skirt you wear is hotter than…well, anyway you'd look good out there."
Mai blushed and got back to business. After a few attempts from Daria and adjustments from Mai, she was happy with Daria's hand and arm positions. She taught Daria not to make contact with the ball using her fists or wrists but with the natural 'platform' formed by her forearms.
"Let me toss the balls real slow at you, Daria. Just stop 'em with your platform."
Mai stood back and threw the ball gently underhanded. Daria gritted her teeth and brought her arms up to meet it. Bonk, somehow the ball flew back and up and smacked her face.
"Oh, shit." Mai trotted up. "Are you okay, Daria?" She reached out and gently adjusted Daria's askew glasses. Daria could then see that Mai was looking at her with barely suppressed giggles as well as a look of concern.
"I'm fine, only my dignity damaged and Lawndale High started the slow killing of that weeks ago."
Mai gave in to giggles. "Sorry, I just never saw anybody hit themselves like that."
"I'm a woman of many talents."
"Okay, enough with the tricky evil coach stuff. I was trying to prove another point. Don't move your platform around, not forward or up or to the sides or tilt or wherever. Keep it stable, move around by stepping forward or back or shifting to one side or the other." Mai had Daria lob a few balls at her from different angles. Daria avidly watched Mai move around and thought she was actually learning something.
The girls practiced bumps and passes until Mai was satisfied or at least bored and wanted to move on. Mai showed Daria basics of setting the ball for a hitter, how to cup her hands in front of her face. Daria flinched and closed her eyes at first when the balls came to her, Mai made gentle fun of her and made her practice more.
"Whew, that's enough for the day, Daria. I gotta get home to write O'Neill's shit-stupid wuss essay. What kind of topic is that: "If I were a tree what kind and where would I be planted and who would plant me?" We'll get your kneepads, then I'll take you home."
"I am planning to research toxic poisonous thorny trees tonight and the answer to the last question is 'Quinn'. But aren't you going to show me how to spike and serve?" Daria asked, her appetite having been whetted by feeling some moderate success and praise from her coach.
"Hey, a little at a time, babe. You take baby-steps for now."
Daria felt she was pouting worthy of a Quinn pre-tantrum. She quickly assumed her customary deadpan.
Mai must have picked up on her student's disappointment. "Hey, Daria. You're doing great. Really, I'm not just blowing smoke up your…skirt. Look, tomorrow in gym you just do what we practiced here. Nazi Morris seems to think she decides court positions but I'll try to back you up what I can. You'll do great! That Tiffany and Stacy will be mortified."
They packed up the balls and Daria bought what Mai recommended as the best knee protection. The girls chatted about school as Daria directed her to Schloss Morgendorffer. Mai gave her what Daria thought must be a sisterly hug if Quinn were the hugging-Daria-sweetly type. Daria micro waved as the big, throaty truck moved off.
"Hrm, maybe I did get myself into something good. But we'll see tomorrow."
She had no problems falling asleep that night with visions of volleyballs and big, red trucks, knee pads and canted Asian eyes dancing through her head.