Chapter 19 The Match (Ember's POV)
"Thorne. My office."
Coach Martinez's voice cut through the locker room chatter Friday morning, and my stomach dropped. I'd been dreading this conversation since Wednesday when I'd shattered that window.
I followed her into the small office, watching her close the door with deliberate care. She gestured to the chair across from her desk, and I sat.
"How are you feeling?" She leaned back, studying me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "Honestly."
"I'm fine, Coach."
"Try again." She crossed her arms. "You've had a hell of a week, Thorne. That incident in the cafeteria, whatever personal drama you've got going on, and breaking a window with a volleyball. So I'll ask again: how are you feeling?"
I met her gaze, keeping my expression neutral. "I'm ready to play."
"That's not what I asked."
I leaned forward. "Coach, I know I messed up with the window. I know my control has been off. But I've been working on it. I can play today without any problems."
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers drumming on the desk. "St. Helena's good. Really good. Their libero made thirty-six digs last season, and she's only gotten better. If you're not at your best..."
"I will be." The words came out more forcefully than I intended. "I need this, Coach. Please."
Something in my tone must have reached her because her expression softened slightly. "Fine. But the moment I see you losing control you're benched. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Good. Now get changed. Team meeting in fifteen."
I left her office, breathing a sigh of relief. I had one more chance to prove I could do this. One more chance to feel normal.
The locker room buzzed with pre-game energy as the team arrived. Mika was taping her fingers, Jessica stretched in the corner, and our setter Emma reviewed plays on her phone. Everything felt familiar, routine.
"You okay?" Mika appeared beside me as I laced my shoes. "You've been quiet all week."
"Just focused." I stood, rolling my shoulders. "Ready to beat St. Helena."
"That's the spirit." She bumped my shoulder. "Let's show them why we're ranked third in the state."
The St. Helena team arrived twenty minutes later, their bus pulling up outside the gym. I watched through the window as they unloaded, all matching warm-up gear and confident smiles. Their libero, number twelve, moved with the easy grace of someone who knew exactly how good she was.
"That's her." Jessica appeared at my elbow. "Rachel. Full ride to Stanford next year. She's incredible."
"So am I." The words came out before I could stop them.
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Confident today, aren't we?"
"Just stating facts."
We filed onto the court for warm-ups. The gym was filling up already, students, parents, a few college scouts scattered in the bleachers. I tried not to scan the crowd, tried to focus on the ball and the net and the familiar rhythm of passing drills.
But my eyes found him anyway.
Trey sat three rows up, wearing his letterman jacket despite the gym's warmth. Our eyes met across the court, and something in my chest loosened. He was here. Supporting me.
I gave him a small nod and turned back to warm-ups, but not before catching sight of Sage in the opposite corner. She waved, mouthing "you've got this" with fierce determination.
Two people who knew what I was, what I was dealing with, and they were both here anyway.
Maybe I could do this.
"Positions!" Coach Martinez's whistle cut through my thoughts. "Let's show them what Thornfield volleyball looks like!"
The referee's whistle started the match, and St. Helena served first.
The ball rocketed over the net, and I tracked its trajectory automatically. My body moved before my mind caught up, diving to make the dig. The ball popped up perfectly for Emma's set.
"Nice one, Thorne!" Mika called from the back row.
I scrambled to my feet, settling back into ready position. The rally continued—back and forth, each team testing the other's weaknesses. St. Helena's libero moved like water, always in the right position, making impossible saves look easy.
But I was good too. I reminded myself of that with every dive, every dig, every save that kept the ball alive.
The first set went to St. Helena, 25-22. Close, but not close enough.
"Shake it off!" Coach Martinez called during the break. "They're good, but so are you. Thorne, you're doing great. Keep it up."
The second set was tighter. Every point felt like a battle, the score staying close throughout. I could feel my wolf pressing against my consciousness, wanting to use our full abilities, to dominate the court the way I had in practice.
But I pushed it down. Stayed human. Played like the girl I used to be before everything changed.
We took the second set 26-24, tying the match.
"Third set determines everything!" Emma gathered us in a huddle. "Leave it all on the court. No regrets."
The third set was brutal. Neither team could pull ahead by more than two points. My legs burned from constant movement, my arms ached from repeated digs, and sweat dripped into my eyes.
But I felt alive.
Not as the Silver Wolf. Not as a prophesied destroyer or a supernatural weapon or anyone's pawn.
Just as Ember Thorne, volleyball player. Human. Normal.
"Match point!" the referee called.
St. Helena served. The ball came fast and low, spinning in a way designed to throw off the receiver. I moved left, reading the trajectory, and made the dig. Not perfect, but good enough for Emma to set.
Mika spiked, and their libero—Rachel—made an incredible diving save. The ball sailed back over the net, and I was there, keeping it alive. Back and forth, the rally stretching longer than any other in the match.
Then Rachel made a dig that should've been impossible, contorting her body to reach a ball that was clearly out of her range. It popped up high, and their setter placed it perfectly for their outside hitter.
The spike came hard and fast. I dove, arm extended, and felt the ball kiss my forearm. It went up, but not high enough. Not controlled enough.
St. Helena's next hit landed in the far corner, just inside the line.
The referee's whistle blew. "Point, St. Helena! Match!"
The scoreboard read 15-14. We'd lost by a single point.
My teammates slumped around me, disappointment written across their faces. Coach Martinez's jaw was tight as she shook hands with the St. Helena coach.
But I couldn't stop smiling.
We'd lost, and I didn't care. For two hours, I'd been normal. I'd played volleyball without breaking windows or jumping impossibly high or revealing what I was. I'd been part of a team, fighting for points like any other player.
It felt incredible.
"Thorne." Jessica stared at me. "Why are you smiling? We just lost."
"I know." I couldn't wipe the grin off my face. "We played great though. That was an amazing match."
"Amazing?" Mika's voice was sharp. "Em, we lost. By one point. That's not amazing, that's devastating."
"But we fought hard. We gave them everything." I looked around at my teammates, trying to make them understand. "Didn't you feel it? How good we played?"
"I felt us lose." Jessica grabbed her water bottle. "And I felt our libero not caring that we did."
"That's not fair. I care. I just..."
"Just what?" Emma joined the confrontation. "Just think losing is fine as long as we tried hard? That's not how competition works, Ember. We needed this win."
"I know, but..."
"Line up!" Coach Martinez's voice cut through the argument. "Handshakes, then locker room. Now."
We filed through the post-game ritual, shaking hands with St. Helena players who looked appropriately triumphant. Rachel caught my eye as we passed, giving me a respectful nod that I returned.
In the locker room, the tension was thick enough to cut. My teammates changed in silence, shooting glances at me that ranged from confused to angry. I tried to tone down my smile, but it kept creeping back.
"Thorne. Coach's office." Mika's voice was flat. "She wants to see you."
I grabbed my bag and headed to the small office, knocking on the already-open door.
"Come in. Close the door." Coach Martinez didn't look up from the paperwork on her desk.
I did, then stood waiting, suddenly nervous despite my lingering good mood.
"Sit."
I sat.
She finally looked up, and her expression was unreadable. "You smiled after we lost."
"I know. I'm sorry, I just..."
"Let me finish." She set down her pen. "You smiled after we lost. Your teammates are angry, confused, and some of them are worried about you. So I need to know: what's going on, Ember? And don't tell me nothing, because we both know that's bullshit."
"Nothing's going on, Coach. I just... I felt good about how I played."
"You felt good about losing?"
"I felt good about playing like myself again." The words came out more honest than I intended. "It's been a rough week. And for two hours, I got to just play volleyball without worrying about everything else. That felt good, even if we didn't win."
Coach studied me for a long moment. "Is this about the boy? Trey Jarred?"
"No. Maybe. It's complicated."
"Everything's complicated at seventeen." She leaned back. "But here's what's not complicated: you're my best player, Ember. Your reaction time, your instincts, your ability to read the game, you're the most naturally talented libero I've coached in fifteen years."
My chest swelled with pride despite the situation.
"But," she continued, and my stomach dropped, "talent means nothing if your head's not in the game. And right now, your head is somewhere else entirely."
"Coach..."
"I'm benching you." The words hit like a physical blow. "Until further notice, you're not playing."
"You can't." I stood up. "Coach, please. Volleyball is all I have left that's normal. You can't take that away from me."
"I'm not taking it away. You are." She stood too, moving around the desk. "When you can come to practice focused on the team instead of whatever personal crisis you're dealing with, when losing a match makes you angry instead of happy, then we'll talk about you coming back."
"How long?"
"However long it takes." Her expression softened slightly. "Ember, I'm not doing this to punish you. I'm doing it because something's clearly wrong, and you won't talk about it. Maybe some time away will help you figure out what's really important."
"Volleyball is important."
"Then act like it." She moved to the door, opening it. "You're still part of the team. You can still come to practices, help with drills, support from the bench. But you're not playing until I see the Ember Thorne who cares about winning, not just participating."
I grabbed my bag, feeling tears building behind my eyes. "What am I supposed to tell my teammates?"
"The truth. That you need time to get your head straight." She paused. "And Ember? Whatever you're going through, I hope you have someone to talk to. Because keeping it all bottled up clearly isn't working."