Page 42 of Summer Shot
“Right . . .” Libby utters in a low voice.
“She’s an easy yes for me,” Kat announces before taking a drink of her water.
Turning to Libby, I ask, “If she wasn’t a junior, what would your answer be?”
Libby hesitates, twirling her hair around her finger.
“C’mon, Libby,” Kat complains. “Just give your honest answer.”
“Fine. She’s a yes,” Libby blurts out.
Kat rolls her eyes at Libby’s dramatic response.
“Great, then I will extend her an offer tonight also.” Clasping my hands in excitement, I verify, “We are waiting to decide on the other spots until tomorrow, everyone agreed?”
Both girls confirm their agreement.
“Perfect.” The exhausted sigh I’ve been holding in since we started finally weasels its way out of me.
“I agree with that too,” Libby giggles. “Let’s get to watching these other interviews so we aren’t here all night. I’m assuming we want to watch everyone who’s left?”
Kat gives an approving nod as I re-open my laptop and find the interviews on my computer. From the second I hit play, we all intently watch, taking notes on each of the girls we have not extended offers to yet. My stomach rumbles, thank goodness we ordered pizza.
“Two hours fly by when you’re having fun,” Libby jokes, stifling her exaggerated yawn with her arm.
“Raven is a top contender for me,” Kat admits.
Libby inclines her head, “I might be with Kat on this one, Laur.”
“The lack of answering the hockey question doesn’t bother anyone else?” I inquire. My gut roils with unease.
“She kind of answered it,” Kat explains. “She wants to pave her own path, it sounds like.”
Libby takes a bite of pizza before saying, “Let’s make sure to ask her hockey specific questions tomorrow. I’ll re-ask the ‘why hockey’ question also.”
My stomach still does small flips. Something just seems off about her answers, but if the other two agree she’d be a good fit, then I trust them. I give a slight nod before asking about the girl I favor.
“What are your thoughts on Lulu?”
“A little cross-eyed,” Libby shrugs.
“Libby! Be nice!” I shout at her, wishing I had something to throw at her other than my pizza—I’m not willing to give up this last slice to prove a point.
“I’m sort of kidding,” Libby mutters, “but I did think she had really put together answers in her last interview.”
Kat chimes in, “I agree. Her answer for how to balance class with tight deadlines and pressure was flawless.” She hesitates to say more.
“What?” I pry, wanting to know what more she has to say.
“Honestly—” Kat takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. “—I’m just exhausted. Can we plan to regroup before we start interviewing tomorrow?”
“Good idea,” Libby speaks up. “If I don’t get to bed in the next two hours, I won’t be able to function tomorrow.”
With little conversation, we pack up our things and head home. Libby and I hardly say a word on our walk home or once we get into the house, besides a brief mutter of see you tomorrow.
Before taking a shower to rinse off the stress of the day, I send out three acceptance letters and emails. My stomach is still in knots. I’m ready to finally start with our new team. Wishing that with each drop of water from the shower head, my anxiety would wash down the drain.
Ding.
