This is a cute and random idea that I knew I had to write. I honestly meant to publish it a while ago but forgot about it.
Story #56: Coach Receives Bad News and Needs a Valdez Distraction
Coach nearly falls out of his lawn chair onto the linoleum gym floor. His hoofs clack, nearly screech louder than the dodgeballs being thrown at top speed from one end of the gym to the other and the children running in every direction possible with their screams.
Normally, he would be watching the Wilderness School kids with intense focus as they play dodgeball, especially yelling critiques at their weak throws or if one of them started crying at a headshot. However, with the communication at camp being more distant cause of the war, his mind has been going back and forth between the campers handling a threat they've been training for and then the demigods he was supposed protect here. Gods forbid, if the war came here, he'd have to protect the mortal children and somehow give a crash course to the half-bloods here on a piece of their life they didn't know was missing.
And he would only do the last part if he really needed the back-up. He knows first-hand that if a half-blood can go without knowing the truth, it's usually better that way.
"Coach!" Leo yells. "I got a headshot and now I'm seeing triple!"
Coach ignores him. Leo will be fine. Those curls are so thick that they could be a helmet. Besides, a monster attack will do the kid so much worse if he can't handle a plastic ball to the skull.
Coach knows that he should be there as well, fighting those battles and helping those kids … but he's on a quest. Even if that quest involves him tapping his hoof against his bat absentmindedly as kids scream for him to make a call on if a shot was fair.
That is until a rainbow shot out of the soda can he was drinking from and going to stress-eat after. Coach instinctively reaches for his bat but pauses when he sees Piper sitting to the side nearby, looking up from her fashion magazine with a weirded-out expression.
"I think your drink is ringing," she comments with snark before returning to her magazine.
Coach looks back at his drink which has now spilled on the floor, but the rainbow has calmed into a little arch. None of the other kids notice as he leans in closer to take the Iris call. On the other end of the line, he sees a battlefield. The war. Kids aren't playing dodgeball and yelling if the ball was in bounds or not … they're yelling orders and screaming cries as they fight for their lives against the monsters. An Ares kids, he can tell by the golden armour with red flair but can't distinguish the kid—maybe they're new or the fact that they're covered in dirt, blood, ash, and gods know what else— takes the centre of the call. His bright blue eyes are wild-eyed and stunned as he breathes for his life.
"Coach!" The kid yells, his voice almost choking out into a cry. "Clarisse is dead."
Coach isn't sure what he just heard. There was too much going on in that phone call. Clarisse? Dead? His Clarisse? Dead?
The whistle around his neck goes slack, but he grips his bat so hard that it nearly creaks in his hand as his legs lock up. No way. That didn't happen. Preposterous. But the battlefield noise is behind the kid who awaits his response, the raw panic in their voice is real.
"What do you mean she's dead?" Coach yells into the call, almost throwing his bat across the gymnasium. "That's impossible. It's Clarisse—she's too angry to die! What— how?"
The mist flickers in the call and he's catching glimpses of the chaos behind the kid is too real. He can't pinpoint anyone as they're all a faceless army fighting the same battle. Coach has fought in and seen wars before in his life, but watching the scene from afar drives how how overwhelming and brutal it all is. He can try his best to find Clarisse in the mist, trying to pick out the kid he watched grow up, but she was lost in the storm after leading her siblings through it.
She can't be dead, not only because Clarisse is the toughest half-blood he knows, but because he can still see the tiny and scrappy kid he brought to Camp Half-Blood. She used to swing a sword bigger than her because she was full of such raw anger and weak armour. She was barely taller than him and furious the entire way to Camp, trying to attack him every time he tried to hold her back. That kid doesn't die. She fights and wins.
"Coach?" Piper calls softly.
Coach looks up from his call and sees Piper peering over his shoulder. Her face went from weirded out to concern and he isn't sure if she was hearing the phone call or just thinking he was talking to himself. He moves slightly to cover the call, unsure if Piper saw the battle or just a soda spill on the floor. The only reason he didn't immediately act on it was because he was undercover, keeping an eye on them until their powers fully manifested or until Camp Half-Blood sent for them.
Maybe it's time for them to go into battle. They're not ready … but when is a soldier ever ready for war?
"Nothing, Cupcake, go back to your magazine," Coach quickly dismisses.
"What's your star sign?" Piper wonders.
Coach raises a brow. This isn't the time for this conversation, but the Iris call is flickering like crazy and he's on a quest. "Star sign? You mean like a meteor?"
Piper shakes her head, holding her glossy magazine open. "You give major Scorpio energy so let me read yours." Her eyes travel across the page. "Here. Scorpio—you're about to receive bad news, but the stars will align and it'll all be cleared up."
Coach frowns. "What nonsense advice is that?"
Piper shrugs before plopping down in his chair. She flips a page in her magazine, eyes scanning the best and worst recent red carpet looks like this is just another boring day. Coach spares her a glance before turning back to the Iris call. The reception still flickers—grainy mist, static war zone. He scowls at the useless connection. Huffing, he shifts his attention back to the dodgeball game—his eyes widen at the flaming dodgeball rocketing straight towards him.
Instinct takes over. Coach kicks Piper's chair out of the way, sending her and the magazine sprawling. Then, in a single and reckless motion, he dives right through the Iris call. For a moment, the mist warps around him, battlefield and gymnasium colliding, until a blaring alarm sounds throughout the school. The kids scream excitedly as the sprinklers start pouring but stop instantly when Coach sits up, glaring at them.
Instantly, they all start pointing at Leo, throwing the blame at him like he threw that fire ball. Coach knows he didn't mean to do so … he didn't know he could do so.
"Thanks for the loyalty…" Leo grumbles.
"Out!" Coach yells, pointing at the fire exit.
The kids scramble towards the fire exit, their shoes squeaking against the drenched floors. Leo is the last to leave, shaking the water out of his curls with a resigned sigh. Piper doesn't bother picking up her ruined magazine (especially since Coach knows she was never interested in it. The magazine was delivered to the school and left in the welcome office where she snatched it.) Instead, Piper stays on the ground nearby Coach, as if waiting for something.
"Get out of here, Cupcake," Coach mutters, not even looking at her.
For a moment, Piper watches him. Then, without a word, she nods and pushes herself up, stepping carefully across the slippery floor to join her classmates.
Coach, now soaked, finally turns back to his soda can. A weak shimmer of rainbow still clings to it, holding on despite the water pouring from the sprinklers. The battle is still there, even with the flood crashing down around him. For a split second, the call returns and he sees Clarisse in the flickering mist—its a brief, blurry glimpse—but it's gone before he can be sure. He exhales sharply. The battle is still there. He hesitates for a second before swiping a hand through the mist, sharpening the connection.
The scene refocuses. It's a different Ares kid, breathless but still shocked.
"Coach—Coach, Clarisse is alive!"
Coach's heart lurches, ears ring louder than the alarm, but a smile breaks through. "Yes! My baby is alright! Life is worth living again!"
He wants to break something out of sheer relief, laugh until it hurts everywhere, but the Ares kid doesn't match his excitement. Coach simmers down as the kid swallows hard and shifts in their battered armour.
"It was … it was Silena wearing Clarisse's armour."
Coach freezes as those words hit him like the fire ball against the wall. "Oh … oh no…"
