Most Likely (Most Likely #1) - Sarah Watson Page 0,15
I just feel like the kids deserve more than once a month, you know?”
CJ nodded.
“But that means it’s only been the local kids. And so far it’s mostly boys. We do have one girl, though.”
CJ couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just… that’s your ‘more boys than girls’ breakdown? You’ve got one girl?”
“It’s a start. Hey. I’m just happy kids are showing up.”
“Boy kids.”
“And one girl.”
CJ shot him a look.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I know I can do better. And honestly,” he added, “I don’t think the one girl is having a very good time.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because every time she comes, she tells me how much she hates it.”
CJ nodded. It would seem she wasn’t having a good time, then. CJ had been on coed teams before, but they had always had a pretty close gender balance. She’d never been the only girl. She wondered what that would feel like.
“A female leader could help,” CJ told him. “It would probably be less weird and more fun for her if she wasn’t the only girl in the room.”
Wyatt looked up. She could tell that he was considering what she’d just said.
“I’m just saying, if you’re really committed to expanding this program, it would help to have a female role model.”
“And you would be that female?”
She’d found herself an opening. That was all she needed. Now she just had to close this. Shoulders back, head high, Hermione Granger, and…
“Look, I work hard, I’m enthusiastic. I’m a people person.”
Wyatt seemed to be considering. “Go on.”
“I’ve played sports all my life, so I know what it takes to be a good coach.”
She was thinking of her best coach now. Ms. Chandran. She had been CJ’s cross-country coach. CJ wasn’t the best girl on the team, not by a mile. Sometimes literally. She felt clumsy and huge next to the other girls who looked like sleek greyhounds in their tiny track shorts. CJ possessed the kind of body that people politely called “stocky.” It wasn’t built for distance, and she opted to stick to the shorter runs. She would never forget the day that Ms. Chandran unceremoniously told her that she was going to compete in the long course. CJ shook her head. Her legs couldn’t go that far. Ms. Chandran assured her that they would. CJ assured her that they wouldn’t. This went on for several rounds until Ms. Chandran finally rested her hands on CJ’s shoulders, looked her in her terrified green eyes, and said, Your legs aren’t what’s holding you back, CJ.
CJ ran the race. She ran it with every bit of Ms. Chandran’s coaching advice pumping in her ears. Dig deep, CJ. Dig! She ignored the ache in her lungs and the burn in her legs, and kept digging until she exploded over the finish line, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion and emotion and absolute awe at what she’d just done. She’d come in second to last, and yet she’d never been prouder of herself. She didn’t feel intimidated by the greyhound girls after that.
“And I know”—CJ’s voice caught a little and she played it off with a cough—“I know what it means to have a good coach. Your one girl needs that. She deserves that.”
Wyatt looked CJ up and down again. She could tell he was impressed. “Okay, Clarke. You’re hired. I mean, not hired. No money will exchange hands, but…”
She smiled. “You will not regret this.”
“I doubt I will. But you might.”
He was smiling now. In a way that made her wonder what she’d just gotten herself into.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve got some paperwork for you in the back. Follow me.”
Feeling triumphant, CJ stepped forward. Wyatt did not. Step, that is. He rolled his chair back from the desk. With a sweatshirt slung over the back of his chair, CJ hadn’t noticed that the reason Wyatt hadn’t stood when she’d extended her hand wasn’t because he was rude. It was because he couldn’t stand. Wyatt was in a wheelchair.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Nope,” CJ said.
She gave him a smile and followed him into the back.
The movie theater where Martha worked was a dusty old singleplex. The best thing about working there was also the worst thing: It was boring. They only showed artsy movies that weren’t exactly popular with the unsophisticated masses of their Cleveland suburb, and there were some days where not a single customer showed up. Martha hoped today would be one of those days. She’d dragged Ava to work with her because she