Mandatory Shame
I stand awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging down on my co-teacher's borrowed shirt - it's too small. I'm surrounded, dark hair and intense faces are bobbing side to side, furiously lunging towards the hurtling sphere of pain. I hate mandatory volleyball.
I received a text message after lunch from Jin Hee stating "WE WILL PLAY BALLY BALL WITH OTHER SCHOOL FROM 3:30." Hearing what I thought was a good excuse (I didn't have a change of clothes), she provided me with sports clothes. All Koreans carry spares.
Lucky me.
We walked out to the gym where I had to prove my usefulness to the team and save the face of the school - or confront the wrath of the Principal.
Standing in the farthest corner from the net, I back up whenever the monster Jae Hwa gets near me. He is 6-foot-6 and I'm terrified of being his next victim. They put me behind him, thinking that maybe he will protect me from having to participate.
They're wrong.
Serve, the ball rockets from person to person like a pinball. Jin Hee goes down, her mouth bleeding from a volleyball to the face. A bad time to have braces. One woman down, many more to go.
The next serve, even more ferocious this time. Oh no! It's heading my direction. Panic! NO! Time to step up! I prepare my hands for the hit when a dark shadow looms over me. The monster throws himself backwards, steps on my feet, and wallops the ball over the net as he lands on me, crushing the breath from my body.
He helps me up. He hands me the ball. It's my turn to serve? When I can barely breathe? Hands twitching, I attempt to serve. It lands inches before the net.
Shame.
"Natasha! More powah!" Shouts the 5th grade teacher. He makes a vigorous serving motion, hips thrusting. I slink back to my spot. My head hangs.
Once again, huddling in my corner. Once again, the deadly flying sphere. It's coming my way, no one to save me. It's too far! I kick out, using ancient soccer skills I have almost forgotten. Everyone "oohs" at the height and distance. Too bad it's way out of bounds. I cringe as I hear the ball hit the window. Amazingly, no damage done. Except to the points.
Shame.
The other team serves and the intensity ratchets up. Koreans go down all around me, incredible moves that leave them impotent to the next attack. There's no one left standing but me. Here comes the ball! My moment to shine! I reach up, the ball is- CRACK!
Shame.
The ball lands, every thud echoing in my brain. My middle, ring, and pinky fingers twitch in the paroxysms of pain as the whole team glares at me. My queue to leave. Maybe next time they won't force me to play.
Wrong.
