The volleyball bounced lightly on the wooden floor, a rhythmic thump-thump echoing in the otherwise empty gym. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. I, Lilly Meyer, sat on the floor, legs crossed, my arms wrapped around them. Number 6, the number of my jersey, was emblazoned in bold on my chest. The gym was empty, everyone else already had left.

My mind was a mess. Today, in practice, nothing went right. The receives were off, my reflexes felt slow.