BEARTICE
"I hate you," I wheeze, clutching my side as I stumble to a stop by the edge of the sidewalk.
Stella just laughs, light and breathless, barely sweating as she slows down beside me. "You're not allowed to hate me. I'm your best friend, personal coach, and emotional support drill sergeant."
"I didn't agree to any of that."
"You did. The moment you told me about volleyball." She grins, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "We've got, what, a week before Coach throws you into the deep end?"
I nod, too winded to answer. The air burns in my lungs, and my legs feel like jelly. The morning is quiet except for our breathing and the distant bark of a dog. The sun is still rising, casting golden light over the sleepy street. I should be proud that I'm out here, moving, that I'm trying.
