As my losing streak and stress continued to pile up more and more frustration filled my mind. While carrying my backpack full of homework, I looked at the clock and it read 2:50. Except all I thought about was getting on the court. Feeling my new tight yet comfortable new volleyball shoes gritt onto the ground like they almost never wanted to let go. Getting to walk proud out of the locker room with my lucky number printed onto my silky blue jersey. When the bell rang I sprung out of my seat and swerved throughout the clusters of students taking no stops to talk to friends. I finally got to the locker room where other girls were having brief conversations, but I didn't have the time for that. Soon after I was dressed I practically sprinted out of the locker room with my friends. We got a ball and started doing our favorite passing drill which is known as peppering. It made us feel recharged and got us even more excited for the upcoming game. 

“That was a really good round. We got 137 in a row that time” I whispered already out of breath.

“Yeah that was really good! I hope everyone plays well today!” Said one of my teammates.

When the other team arrived they did just as most other teams did and observed how we practiced watching us with eyes similar to a hawk's. Worry started to creep around the corner, but I shut it out of my facial expressions to seem like I remained confident.

We started to stretch when I saw my dad and sister sit in the bleachers. I always acted like I didn't notice they were there, but all I wanted was to impress them.

Our hitting line started, and I tried to block out all of my thoughts but my mind was filled. I heard my name called as I approached the line to go next. Somehow my timing was perfect. It seemed like I was jumping in slow motion moving my hand perfectly square onto the center of the ball.

“If my hits keep up like this we will crush madeira” I thought to myself.

My confidence started to trickle back up into my thoughts as I approached the serving line to warm up my serve. Just this year is when I was finally able to be proud of my serve. It is by far the hardest and most used skill in volleyball. The technique it takes to perfect a light but tall toss that matches perfectly with the palm of your opposite hand takes lots of practice. 

My serves were curved and moved swiftly through the air to the very back corners of the court. As a passer I knew that when I saw serves like those come my way, fear was always my first feeling.

“Great job! You're playing great today!” Said one of my teammates.

My friends gave me such an overwhelming energy booster that I just tried to focus on serving while blocking out everything else. Excitement filled my mind so much so that I jumped up to grab a ball that was served at me from the other side. Since I had just gotten new shoes I hadn't gotten used to them yet and landed on my ankle in a weird way. Immediately I started laughing laying flat on my back in the middle of the court. It was only when I attempted to stand that I knew there was something wrong.

Waves of shock and hurt filled my mind as I struggled to walk to my friends. I can still play, I can still play, I have to still play. I said repeatedly in my mind as if it would help solve my injury.

Tears filled my eyes just as fast as my name was crossed off of the lineup list. I looked at my dad from across the gym who didn't seem to know what happened in the split seconds of the incident. I mouthed as best as I could that I wouldn't be playing in the game. I was so stressed knowing that just a stupid little mistake could have me sitting on the bench for at least two weeks. 

As I sat with an ice pack on my swollen ankle, I still tried to cheer on my team but my confidence had far expired. 

To make matters worse every twenty minutes or so my coach would approach me and ask, “Cami do you think you can play for a couple minutes. We really need you out there.” 

My foot felt like it weighed one hundred pounds and that my ankle was about to let it break off so I always declined her with a simple and sad no. The idea of me letting down my team rushed through my head the whole game. It ended in a terrible loss with us getting only eight points against our opponents. In a way I was relieved that I could finally get home and get my mind off of my throbbing foot.

My dad carried me to the car and on any other day I would have been super embarrassed, but at this point I felt so defeated that I couldn't care less. The mood in the car was so tense and made everything completely silent.

When we pulled into our garage, my dad said “Go upstairs and take a shower dinner will be ready in a few.”

I quickly replied “I can't even stand how am I supposed to walk up a steep flight of stairs?”

“I don't know but you have to move it at least a little so it will heal fast.” He said it like it wasn't an issue because of all the sports he played when he was younger.

“But I-"

“If you want to get back on that court fast you have got to put pressure on it.” He said.

The shock waves of pain were making my ankle miserable, so putting pressure on it didn't cross my mind once. To get to my room I jumped on my good foot from wall to wall, crawled up the stairs and scooted across the floor. My dad just stared and when I finally got to the top he started laughing.

“You think that this is funny?” I said so angry with him that he thought my injury was a joke.

“You look ridiculous! Should I call you hobble foot from now on?” He said laughing in between every other word.

I felt like my face was on fire and that if he said one more thing that I was going to burst. Instead, I started laughing with him. Even throughout all of the stress, worry and hurt throughout the day I started laughing. I am known in my family to always laugh at the wrong moments but for some odd reason this felt different. It felt like with each little smiling sound that came out more and more weight was lifted off of my back. When I was complaining about my ankle and all of the pain I was just digging myself into a deeper hole. 

With all of the stress that accumulated throughout the day I never would have thought that laughing would help me to relax. This day showed me that even when my life makes me feel overwhelmed or throws challenges my way that my attitude can change everything. Although this injury was very painful, I learned that a little bit of laughter can go a long way.