Tell Me If the Lovers Are Losers by Cynthia Voigt Read Free Book Online Page B

to coach an Olympic team,” Hildy answered.
    â€œWhy didn’t she take it?” Niki was impressed.
    â€œShe had family obligations.”
    Niki spoke sagely: “Families aren’t worth a pot to pee in.”
    â€œThat isn’t right,” Hildy declared. Niki stared at her, silent for a moment, then said, “Since when do they play volleyball at the Olympics?”
    â€œSince the next games,” Hildy answered. “It is something new.”
    â€œSo these are international rules you know,” Niki said.
    â€œNational, International, the rules are the same I think,”Hildy said. “Although, I am not sure about the time limit. That may not apply.”
    â€œWe’re going to have to figure out what rules we play under,” Niki said, “before we start. I wonder if I can find ten people.”
    â€œNine. Ann.”
    â€œAnn isn’t playing,” Niki said.
    Hildy’s blue eyes studied Ann. “Why don’t you want to?”
    â€œI don’t know how,” Ann answered. “I’ll watch, I’d like to watch. You’ll need an audience. Every sport needs an audience.”
    â€œI can think of one that doesn’t,” Niki said, smirking.
    Ann, her face held bright in a smile, blushed and was furious with herself.
    â€œVolleyball’s easy. You can learn while you play,” Niki explained. “It’s sort of like tennis. You must have some athletic ability. You play tennis all right.”
    Ann refused stubbornly. She never played a game well unless she had been playing for a while. She didn’t want to go out and make a fool of herself.
    â€œOK then. How do you feel about winning, Hildegarde?” Niki returned to her original topic.
    Hildy considered. “I like it,” she decided.
    â€œWhat about losing?” Niki asked.
    â€œThat doesn’t matter,” Hildy said.
    Niki pounced: “But winning does.”
    â€œI didn’t say that. Neither is important, not really. I like to win. But—” She apparently had no words for further discussion of the point. “I like to play,” she explained. “If you play well you win, usually. If you play well and lose, then it will still be a good game.”
    It was clear that Niki didn’t believe her “I’ll go see who I can find. To play. What do you think, two o’clock?”
    â€œThere is a net already set up?”
    â€œThere’s an outdoor court and lots of indoor ones. Volleyball seems to be popular around here. Lots of pick-up games. There’s some kind of inter-class tournament, in all the sports, each season. Some people last night were talking about it. Freshmen never win of course. Anyway, there are volleyball teams, as well as the rest. It’s a friendly game,” she concluded, looking at Ann. Ann, in whose memory was clear the image ofNiki’s arm upraised, fist clenched to hammer down on the ball, smiled.
    Niki had Hildy and Ann down on the lawn beside the volleyball net by one forty-five. She had found two volley-balls. She went to the side and did deep knee bends, while Hildy tried to show Ann how to hit the ball.
    â€œI’m not going to play,” Ann said.
    â€œI know. Wouldn’t you like to see how it’s done though?”
    Ann learned to hold her hands so that the heels would contact the ball. She stood across the net from Hildy and returned a few soft shots. It wasn’t all that difficult. But it wasn’t as easy as it looked. Ann could be sure of getting the ball up over the high net; however, she had no idea of how to put it where she wanted it to go. Hildy had no trouble returning her shots, no matter how wildly they flew. Hildy didn’t always make contact with the heels of her hands, as she had told Ann: sometimes—if the ball was low—she would dig at it with her fists; a couple of times—when it flew high—she brought it down with her forearms.