this is nice and good
December greets Great Britain in a swirl of sleet and snow.
The temperatures all but plummet , the landscape is frosty white, the air is frigid, the wind is cutting, and it’s not even January.
Good heavens.
Not for the first time, is Hermione grateful her parents are able to drive her to practice, because, It. Is. Freezing. Outside.
The wintry weather turns the roads into safety hazards at the best of times, Hermione observes, as they pass yet another collision. For all that summer records the highest number of driving accidents, winter is no greenhorn.
Though, as has become the norm in this decade, accidents aren’t the only happenings inhabiting the avenues and boulevards.
The current state of affairs is flour, oxygen and a sparkle of flame. An explosive disaster if there was any.
The newspapers are all aflutter with the introduction of the Poll Tax (first) in Scotland (Wales and England would soon follow) and already controversies are rising. Last month saw the birth of the All Britain Anti-Poll Tax Federation and, quite frankly, had set the tone for many.
(Ten years old she might be, but Hermione reads the news outlets, watches the news on the telly with her parents and keeps to date with what’s happening most religiously.)
It’s a culmination of issues, Hermione thinks, a tiny snowball at the top of a white, snowy peak. As it rolls down the slope, it grows and grows and gains momentum before colliding, most violently, into the first solid obstacle in its trajectory.
This decade, not unlike the former, has started as a tiny snowball, accumulating issues after issues, discontent and unrest, as the years go by.
Contact seems imminent.
In the seventies, it resulted in the party in power abdicating in 1979.
Hermione wonders if that’s where the so-called Eighties are headed.
It certainly feels like it.
Tensions are peaking, tempers are flying and the gray, stinging weather further exacerbates the mounting bitterness.
‘ bottled up anger makes folks miserable for sure, but at least it keeps them warm,’ her father had sardonically mused once.
‘ small mercies,’ her mother had snorted.
Ever so mindful of the road and traffic, they near Beesbury’s sports complex.
Hermione kisses her mother on the cheek and thanks her for the ride, she gets a hug and ‘have fun pumpkin, your father will pick you up when you're done!’
The contrast between her mother’s car and outside is stark, a glass of iced water to the face in 1°C December. Hermione hurries to the entrance, presents her card to the front desk and off to the girl’s locker room she goes.
“ O–, sorry!” leaves Hermione’s mouth as she narrowly avoids colliding with someone at the door. It’s Kamala. Hermione blinks, “Hello, sorry again.”
( her esophagus is clear, her stomach calm and steady, her anxiety grows weaker with each practice, no longer are these girls hidden Hazels or Rileys or Elizabeths. Now they’re Kamala- )
“ Hi ! “ Kamala beams before readjusting her glasses, “ Don’t mind, I should’ve seen where I was going,” she says, Hermione sees Zoe at her heels, greets the short haired girl who answers in kind.
( - and Zoe. )
Chatter buzzes in the changing room, she spies Josie Collins and Lilia Singh having a go at a rubik's cube, not too far Maria Secci is chatting with Annabele ‘ call me Anna ‘ Jeong and who Hermione is eighty five percent sure might be Camille Howard as well as two other girls she vaguely recognises.
( No longer do the specters of Riley, Hazel and Elizabeth hang above them. Now they’re Josie, Lilia, Maria, Anna and Camille - )
‘Hello’ and ‘Hi’ are exchanged till she reaches her locker. She has just popped her head over her white shirt, when Hermione hears Hafsa and Sophia greeting their way to their respective lockers. They join her soon after.
( Now they’re Hafsa and Sophia .)
“ Hiya! ” Sophia cheerfully salutes, her nose and cheeks pink from the chill, her locker is opposite hers, while Hafsa’s is two more down. “ Hello Hermione,” echoes Hafsa with a smile and her signature wave.
( her esophagus is clear, her stomach calm and steady, her palms are dry, her anxiety isn’t gone forever, it lies dormant, biding its time, waiting for the opportune moment to rear its nauseous, ugly head, but for now -)
“ Good afternoon! How are you two?” she returns with a wave of her own, a grin already pulls at her lips. Hafsa’s hair is braided into a crown on top of her head today, while Sophia's locks spills out of her wool blue scarf.
“ Alright now that we’re inside, “ Hafsa assures, dropping her bag and opening her locker, “ it’s ridiculously cold outside.”
( this is good )
A sentiment Sophia concurs most ardently, “ They say on the telly that it’s shaping up to be one of the coldest winters we’ve had in a while.”
“Lucky us,” Hafsa drawls flatly, effectively snaring a laugh out of her companions.
“How are you?” Sophia asks, as she manoeuver her hair into a proper bun having changed into sport attire before coming to Beesbury.
“ Good, I’m glad my mom and I made it here safely, we drove past quite a few accidents,” Hermione answers, feeling for the rest of her clothes in her bag, black joggers she neatly slips into and indoor volleyball shoes.
Sitting on the wooden bench, she re-fastens her shoelaces as their conservation carries on, the topic shifts from the freezing cold, to the many car accidents, to the difficulty and nonsensical riddles of that 3-2-1 game show to the ridiculousness of Spit The Dog and why are puppets on every channel?!
“ Did you girls see the new graffiti next to the Besburry station? “
“Which one?”
“ ‘Mug a yuppie’ I believe it says,”
“Ah.”
“ Wasn’t it always there ?”
“ No, this one is blue, the other was green before they repainted the wall.”
They talk about the numerous, various, weird acronyms the newspapers adore using.
Yuppies for Young Urban Professionnels
“ What’s Buppies? ”
“ I think it stands for Black Urban Professionnels “
“ I’ve heard my neighbor talk about Sinkies ? “
“ I know this one, Single Income No Kids “
“ Mmm, what about Dunkies ?”
“ Double Income No Kids”, “ Double Income No Kids”
“ Jinx! “ , “ Jinx! “
Gasp.
“ Double Jinx ! “ , “ Double Jinx ! “
Gasp².
Hermione and Hafsa jinxing themselves not once, not twice but thrice, gives Sophia a proper giggling fit and sets off the other two into hearty chortles of their own.
( this is nice and good, Hermione thinks )
When their coach considers them sufficiently warmed up, they tackle ball exercises.
Last month, the sunshine smashers had come to understand the different positions that make a volleyball team : libero, setter, middle blocker, outside hitter, opposite hitter and serve specialists.
As well as the rules, the many ‘plays’ one can make with a ball, and ever since they have been learning to pass (over and under), to dig, block, hit or spike and to set the ball.
Her forearms were red and stung after the receiving drill. Their coach explained it was a matter of conditioning, with regular practice their forearms will ‘toughen’ and thus not hurt anymore. However should it continue or worsen, they were to immediately come to her or seek medical help.
Proper technique is just as important to avoid sprains and injuries and so is the quality of the ball.
“Cheap balls are made with materials of poorer quality, too thin and not padded enough,” she cautioned, “ those hurt more and sometimes regardless of hardened forearms.”
Hermione’s volleyball books are a well of information, they cover common injuries : the rotator cuff tendinitis for when the rotator cuff muscles used to serve or spike is overused and fatigued; sprains; the litany of finger injuries - dislocations, fractures, ligament and tendon tears-; shoulder related pain caused by overuse or bad technique - tears, dislocation, internal impingement-; but also proper technique, warm up drills, cool down stretches and so much more !
“ Hermione, make sure you are directly underneath the ball before receiving.”
“ That’s better, good job !”
“ Squat with your legs - like this, steady Kamala.”
“ Keep it up, you’re doing better!
“Dominant hand over non-dominant, Josie, your thumbs must be side by side.”
“ Good !”
“ Maria, Lilia and Hafsa, you’re up next!”