Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul on Tough Stuff Read Free Page A

less likely it will be returned and force me to clod around the court keeping it in play.
    To make matters worse, we keep winning. This is the first winning season of any girl’s sport in our school’s history. Volleyball fever took over, and attendance soared. Just my luck. And those pep rallies. There’s a thrill. Jumping around high-fiving while my name echoes over the PA system.
    In our small town, making it to State Finals is newsworthy. Our team was pictured sitting in the bleachers in a “V for Victory” formation. I was the connecting bottom of the “V,” front and center in all my glory.
    â€œLoni Leads the Charge to State!” read the headline. Not bad. I didn’t even pretend to protest when Mom bought copies for the relatives. I was pleased when the team framed the picture and hung it in the tunnel between our locker room and the arena. It soon became our team gesture to blow kisses at our picture every time we passed it.
    It was the night of the final game, and we had home-court advantage. The series was tied two games to two. I led the team’s run for our triumphant entrance. Cheers stormed down the tunnel to meet us. We glanced at the banners posted along the walls, taking energy from the words.
    YOU GO, GIRLS! YES YOU CAN! WE’RE #1!
    We were ready to blow kisses at our picture when shock froze me. Two words were written in red on the glass. Two words that totally changed the headline.
    â€œLoni THE BULL leads the charge to State!”
    The horns drawn on my head completed the insult.
    I felt myself emptying until I wasn’t me anymore. I was nobody. The team bunched behind me.
    â€œWho did this?”
    â€œWho would be so mean?”
    Their questions had no answers. They thought they were as upset as I was, but they were wrong. I wasn’t upset at all. I was in shock.
    So this is the truth, I thought. This is who I am.
    And all the words around me didn’t heal the hurt because nobody said the three words I needed to hear most: “That’s not true.”
    The team moved me down the tunnel. There was no time to sort myself. What was real seemed like a dream, and I couldn’t shake myself awake. The chants of “Loni! Loni!” sounded hollow. I let the cheers of the many be muted by the jeers of the few.
    We won the coin toss and took to the court for my first serve. Around me the team was pumped and ready to go. I rolled the volleyball in my palms to get its feel and mechanically went into my serving stance. All I could see were the words . . . THE BULL. THE BULL. THE BULL.
    I tossed the ball up, but before my fist made contact the shout “OLE!” hit me. I stutter-stepped and missed the ball.
    I told myself not to look, but my eyes were drawn anyway. I couldn’t pick out who it was. The team tried to buck me up with back slaps and “that’s okays.” But it didn’t help.
    I went through the rotations until I was at the net. My concentration scurried between the game and the bleachers. When the ball skimmed the air above my head, a loud snorting sound came from the front row.
    â€œThat’s taking the bull by the horns!” someone yelled. The player behind me made the save and set up the ball for me to spike. But I wasn’t looking at the ball. I was staring into the faces of the five high-school guys who were mocking me. My humiliation only fueled their taunts.
    â€œGive me a B, give me a U, give me a double L, too. What’s that smell? LONI! LONI! LONI!”
    Why didn’t someone shut them up?
    The coach called a time-out. “Loni, can you get your head in the game?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œWhy are you letting a few people who don’t even know you decide for you who you are?”
    I shrugged again.
    â€œLoni, you’re valuable as a person and to your team. Unkind words don’t change who you are unless you decide they change you,” she said.
    Sounds good in theory, I