Maya found out she hadn’t made the travel roster from a group text.
Not from Coach Jordan.
Not from Taylor.
Not even from Brittney, who knew everything approximately fifteen minutes before everyone else.
A group text.
Jordan had sent the list at 6:42 in the morning.
Maya read it while brushing her teeth.
Taylor.
Brittney.
Emma.
Samantha.
Six more names.
Not Maya.
She stopped brushing.
Read it again.
Still not Maya.
She refreshed the message.
Nothing.
Her mother walked past the bathroom.
“You okay?”
Maya pointed at the phone with the toothbrush still in her mouth.
Her mother looked at the screen.
“I don’t know what I’m looking at.”
Maya spit into the sink.
“I’m not going.”
“Where?”
“The tournament.”
“I thought you’ve been talking about that tournament for three months.”
“I have.”
“Then why aren’t you going?”
“Excellent question.”
She called Jordan.
Voicemail.
Called again.
Voicemail.
She typed:
Can you call me?
Deleted it.
Typed:
Why am I not traveling?
Deleted that too.
Then:
Can we talk before practice?
She sent it.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Yes.
That somehow made her angrier.
At practice, Maya arrived twenty minutes early.
Jordan was setting up a court.
She walked directly toward him.
“Why?”
Jordan didn’t pretend not to understand.
“Because you’re not in the ten we’re taking.”
“Obviously.”
Maya crossed her arms.
“Why?”
“You’re eleven.”
She stared at him.
“That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“I’ve beaten half those players.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been playing well.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been here every day.”
“Almost.”
“Almost?”
Jordan continued tightening the net.
“You missed Tuesday.”
“I had an exam.”
“I know.”
“So you’re punishing me for school?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say almost?”
“Because you said every day.”
Maya stared at him.
“You are unbelievably annoying.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Then explain it.”
Jordan finally stopped working.
“Emma and Samantha give us more flexibility in the lineup right now.”
“I’m better than Emma.”
Jordan said nothing.
Maya immediately regretted saying it.
Not because she didn’t believe it.
Because Emma was standing about thirty feet away.
And she had heard.
Emma looked down at the ball in her hands.
Maya closed her eyes.
“Great.”
Jordan looked toward Emma.
Then back at Maya.
“That right there.”
“What?”
“That’s part of it.”
Maya’s anger sharpened.
“So now I can’t think I’m better than somebody?”
“You can think anything you want.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You made your disappointment somebody else’s burden.”
Maya looked toward Emma.
Emma had walked to another court.
“I didn’t know she was there.”
Jordan nodded.
“Would it have been okay if she wasn’t?”
Practice started.
Jordan paired Maya with Brittney.
Brittney immediately said, “I’m not getting involved.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Your face asked.”
“Just play.”
“Wonderful.”
The first game was against Emma and Taylor.
Of course it was.
Maya served Emma.
Ace.
Next ball.
Emma again.
Bad pass.
Maya dug the next attack.
Brittney converted on an option deep cross court.
Point.
Third serve.
Taylor looked across the net.
“Subtle.”
Maya ignored her.
She served Emma again.
This time Emma passed perfectly.
Taylor set.
Emma hit high line.
Point.
Emma didn’t celebrate.
That made Maya feel worse than if she had screamed.
At 12–10, Brittney walked toward Maya.
“Can you stop?”
“Stop what?”
“Trying to settle your existential crisis through serving.”
“I’m serving the weaker passer.”
Brittney looked at Emma.
Then back at Maya.
“Sure.”
“She is.”
“Then serve her.”
Maya rolled her eyes.
They lost 21–18.
Maya immediately walked toward her water bottle.
Emma followed.
“Do you actually think I’m bad?”
Maya stopped.
“No.”
“You said you’re better than me.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It sounded pretty similar.”
Maya looked toward Jordan.
He was intentionally looking somewhere else.
Coward.
“Emma, I’m angry.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“Then why did you serve me seventeen times?”
Maya almost corrected the number.
“I’m sorry.”
Emma nodded.
She didn’t say it was okay.
Then she walked away.
Maya sat down.
Brittney dropped beside her.
“How’s your morning?”
“Fantastic.”
“I could tell.”
Maya took a drink.
“Do you think she’s better than me?”
Brittney groaned.
“Why does everyone keep trying to get me killed today?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Brittney.”
Brittney sighed.
“Better at what?”
“Volleyball.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“What?”
“Better at passing?”
“Blocking?”
“Serving?”
“Playing in wind?”
“Playing with Taylor?”
“Playing with you?”
“Making good decisions when they’re furious?”
Maya looked at her.
“That last one felt unnecessary.”
“It was extremely necessary.”
Maya threw a handful of sand at her.
Brittney laughed.
Then she became serious.
“You want me to tell you you’re better so you can feel like something unfair happened.”
Maya didn’t answer.
“And maybe you are better at a bunch of things.”
Brittney shrugged.
For the rest of practice, Maya said very little.
The travel group finished with a competitive drill.
Maya’s group went to another court.
That hurt too.
Every separation suddenly felt symbolic.
Travel.
Not travel.
Chosen.
Not chosen.
Important.
Not important.
She knew that wasn’t what Jordan had said.
It was what disappointment translated it into.
After practice, Maya stayed.
Everyone else slowly left.
Jordan was rolling a boundary line as Maya walked over.
“Can I ask you something without being awful?”
Jordan smiled.
“Let’s see.”
“What do I need to do?”
“For what?”
“To travel next time.”
Jordan stopped rolling.
“That’s a much better question.”
“I know. Its growth.” said Maya while simultaneously flipping her hair like she’s wearing pink on a Wednesday
“Don’t get carried away. And quit trying to make fetch happen”
Maya smiled slightly.
Jordan continued.
“You’re trying to prove you belong in the lineup every time you touch the ball.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Making your pair better.”
Maya frowned.
“Those are the same thing.”
“They should be.”
Jordan looked at her.
“For you lately, they aren’t.”
Maya didn’t understand.
Jordan explained.
“When you’re competing for yourself, you take bad swings because you want to bounce the ball and get spectacular kills for highlight reels.”
“You serve harder when placement would be smarter.”
“You get frustrated when your partner makes a mistake because you think her mistake makes you look worse.”
“And when another player succeeds, you experience it like something has been taken from you.”
Maya looked toward the empty courts.
“That’s harsh.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’m selfish?”
“No.”
Jordan picked up the rolled line.
“I think you’re scared.”
That was worse.
Maya laughed uncomfortably.
“Of what?”
“That there aren’t enough opportunities.”
She didn’t answer.
To Maya there never seemed to be enough.
College roster spots.
Travel teams.
Scholarships.
Partners.
Starting positions.
Invitations.
Attention.
Jordan started walking away.
Maya called after him.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
He turned.
“Practice making other people good.”
“That’s your advice?”
“For now.”
“How do I do that?”
Jordan smiled.
“Figure it out.”
Maya groaned.
“I hate when you do that.”
“I know.”
The travel team left Friday morning.
Maya stayed home.
She told herself she wouldn’t check the scores.
At 8:07 she checked scores.
Then at 8:14.
Then again at 8:19.
At 8:26, Brittney texted.
The text read, Stop refreshing the scores.
Maya stared at her phone.
How do you know?
Because I know you.
Maya put the phone down.
Three minutes later she picked it back up.
By noon, the team had won its first two duals.
Emma was playing well.
Maya stared at the results.
She felt jealous.
Then guilty for feeling jealous.
Then annoyed that she felt guilty.
Being a person was exhausting.
She typed Emma a message.
Good job today.
She stared at it.
It felt fake.
Deleted it.
Then tried again.
I saw the scores. Looks like you’re playing well. Keep going.
It still felt weird.
Delete.
Finally:
How’s the wind?
Emma replied two minutes later.
Horrible lol.
Maya smiled.
Of course.
She typed:
Then stop trying to be pretty and win ugly.
Emma responded:
That’s actually helpful.
Maya stared at the message.
Something loosened.
Saturday morning, Emma texted first.
Their blocker kept showing line then taking the angle super late. What would you do?
Maya immediately started typing an answer.
Then stopped.
Jordan’s voice appeared in her head.
Practice making other people good.
She asked:
What is your partner asking of you?
Three dots.
To go cross.
So?
A minute passed.
Then:
Oh.
Maya smiled.
Emma’s pair won.
When the team returned Sunday night, Maya wasn’t there waiting with some dramatic reconciliation.
Monday arrived.
Practice was starting soon
Emma walked onto the beach carrying her bag.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Thanks for Saturday.”
“You figured it out.”
“You helped.”
Both things were true.
At the start of practice Jordan paired Maya with Emma.
Maya looked at him.
“Seriously?”
Jordan shrugged.
“Its Random.”
“Liar.”
Emma laughed.
They played Taylor and Brittney.
The first rally, Emma passed badly.
Maya chased it.
Terrible set.
Emma swung. Or at least attempted
Blocked by the abnormally high net
The old Maya would have immediately explained what Emma should have done.
Instead Maya asked:
“What’d you see?”
Emma brushed sand from her knees.
“Nothing.”
“Excellent.”
Emma laughed.
“Set me again.”
Next rally, she scored.
Later, Maya missed a serve.
Emma walked past.
“Trying to settle an existential crisis?”
Maya stared at her.
“Brittney told you?”
“Everyone knows.”
Across the net Brittney was laughing so hard she had to turn away.
Maya laughed too.
They lost the game.
Then won the next one.
Three weeks later, another travel roster was posted.
Maya opened the message.
Her name was there.
She smiled.
Then she kept reading.
Emma’s was too.
For a moment, Maya felt something surprising.
Not relief that she’d beaten someone.
Not satisfaction that she’d reclaimed something.
She texted Emma.
We’re going.
Emma responded immediately.
WE’RE GOING.
Years later, Maya didn’t remember which tournament she’d missed.
She didn’t remember who traveled instead of her.
She vividly recalls how rejection had felt.
But how temporary it actually was.
She remembers learning that competition creates a strange illusion.
It convinces us that everyone pursuing the same thing must be standing in our way.
Sometimes they are.
There are limited roster spots.
Limited scholarships.
Limited opportunities.
Pretending otherwise doesn’t make competition kinder.
But scarcity doesn’t require hostility.
Another person’s success can challenge you without insulting you.
Someone can be selected instead of you without becoming your enemy.
You can want the spot.
You can believe you deserve it.
You can be furious when you don’t get it.
Eventually Maya learned that solidarity wasn’t pretending competition didn’t exist.
It was refusing to let competition decide who she was allowed to care about.
And strangely enough, once Maya stopped spending so much energy proving she was better than everyone around her, she became a much better volleyball player.
Mostly because everyone around her started getting better too.
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