The Worst Volleyball Match Yet!

So we joined the volleyball match. The buff volleyball player told us that his name was Harry. "Ok, how are we gonna split the teams?" he asked. "We were playing doubles before, but with three more people joining…"

"That's ok. Just do 3v3. I'll be ref."

Dammit, Fence, I was gonna say that!

"Yay!" Snowball sprang into the air again and then latched onto my arm. "We can be on the same team."

"Sounds good," said Harry. He invited us over to his side of the net, and Snowball didn't hesitate. His teammate, a shirtless guy, went over to join the two on the other side.

Once I got a little closer, I realized Harry's biceps were bigger than my entire torso.

W-was I gonna be able to keep up here? I-I'd make it out of this ok, r-right? Haha.

"Volleyball is a non-contact sport, volleyball is a non-contact sport, volleyball is a non-contact sport…"

"Huh? What are you muttering?" Snowball asked me.

"O-oh! Nothing!" Geez. Was the curse already coming to collect? If I found out this was "full-contact tackle volleyball," I wouldn't have even been surprised.

Man, was I chicken, or what? I was halfway to peeing my pants just thinking about the possibility of something like that.

It was what happened next that got me 9/10 of the way there. Luckily, I managed to hold my bladder back at the last second, but it was close. And can you blame me, with what we saw next?

From out of the shadows on the other side of the court stepped the other two on the shirtless guy's team. Another shirtless buff guy and another guy with…

"A beard…" Now it was Snowball's turn to mutter. She looked back and forth between the other side of the net and ours, her gaze ping-ponging between the bearded guy and me.

"Wh-what?" I said, as my hand involuntarily moved to start stroking my baby-smooth chin. "I-I'll probably start shaving too… I'm sure my facial hair is gonna start growing in any day now. Haha…"

"More like 'any decade now' at this rate…" Snowball looked at me like I was wet garbage.

Aw, come on! Wasn't she supposed to be madly in love with me or something?! What gives?

"Anyway, are you blind?" I flattened my hands, sandwiched her face between my palms —

"Mhw?!"

— and turned her back to beard-o on the other side of the court.

"It's more than the guy's face that could use a shave. It's his whole body! Look at that!"

It was true — which was why I said it, duh. The two shirtless buff guys flanking him looked normal, but the bearded guy in the middle? He was covered head to toe in a thick pelt of brown hair. His body was like a forest of the stuff — a thick, dense one. It was so shaggy you almost could have described it as a hide. The only part of him not totally covered in hair was his cracked, lined face, out of which jutted a prominent brow.

Which was good because I was pretty sure he wasn't wearing clothes. That tangly forest he had going on was the only thing standing between us and having to bleach our eyes.

Anyway, it was a sight to see is the point I'm trying to make.

"Did… did the curse do that?" Snowball whispered.

"I dunno. But I wouldn't count out the possibility. We should be careful. Maybe it's like, 'If we lose this game, we grow hair all over every inch of our…'"

"Hey, you two," Harry called to us. "Ready to" — he flexed his enormous muscles — "RUMBLE?"

As if on cue, my stomach growled. I had thrown up like three times today already, so I was starved.

"No time to be hungry!" Snowball slapped my back. Hard. Ow. "We have a game to win!"

"That's what I like to hear!" said our overenthusiastic, over-muscled teammate Harry. "Let's show 'em who's boss!"

With that, the six of us on the court lined up across from each other, the net in between us. Us to wish them a good game, and them to glare at us like they were about to unremorsefully murder us and then show up at our funerals just to spit on the graves. The hairy guy even threw a whispered "I will destroy you" in with the glare he was shooting me, as a bonus.

With that out of the way, and with my legs anticipatorily feeling like wet spaghetti, we all went to take our positions.

"Alright," said Snowball. "You'll be our main hitter. That means you'll be going up against that hairy dude directly."

"Me?! Why me?! I can't hit! I've never even played this game before! I don't even know the rules! Plus, look at that guy! I could be wearing stilts and he'd still be twice my height. I don't stand a chance! And did you miss that whole 'I will destroy you' thing? Cause — just going out on a limb here — based on that, pretty sure he's planning on destroying me!"

"Stop being such a chicken or I'll disqualify you!" Fence called from the sidelines.

Why, you—!

I—!

Arrghrg!

I was so frustrated I couldn't even come up with a coherent comeback.

I had to wonder: was this the whole curse thing? Was I already being subjected to it?

Or was it just my usual luck striking again?

"Head in the game, kid!" called Harry from his position behind me. "They're about to serve!"

Sure enough, on the other side of the net, the hairy gorilla dude was winding up for a big opening serve. Was I about to eat volleyball? I was about to eat volleyball, wasn't I?

"Take this, bozos! Super serve!" The hairy freak announced his serve and then—!

Poof.

…

…

…

Wait. Poof?

"That's the sound effect we're going for here?" I hear you asking.

Yeah. It is.

Cause the second I saw how this serve was playing out was the second I realized we had already won the match. Guaranteed. A done deal.

Cause despite the big windup, it was the easiest, weakest, loftiest volleyball serve I'd ever been on the receiving end of.

Ok — it was the only volleyball serve I'd ever been on the receiving end of. But you know what I mean.

What I mean is that all the bravado and bluster from the other team was one big bluff. These guys sucked. They were even worse than me.

And their serve was so easy even Snowball, who was almost as unathletic as I was, could receive it. And with our buff, backwards-hat wearing friend Harry setting the ball perfectly for me, all I had to do was channel the three minutes total of Olympic volleyball I had watched seven years ago into my very first spike, and…

It worked! We scored! Unable to return it, the other team let the ball thump into the sand.

"Hell yeah!" I fist pumped. "Spikeout!"

"That's not what it's called, random kid." Harry adjusted his hat. "But good job."

"That was amazing!" Snowball jumped for joy. "I knew you could do it!"

Fence just gasped in astonishment. Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Weren't refs supposed to be impartial? Oh well. I couldn't even blame him since he knew how bad I usually was at sports. And I was so overjoyed that I didn't even care.

Meanwhile, the members of the other team, Cousin Itt here included, were looking down, literally and figuratively, kicking sand and shaking their heads.

Ha! I did feel a little bad that we had owned them so hard, but that's life.

"I… sniffle sniffle… I'm so happy!" I said.

"Are you literally crying, dude?" Fence had abandoned the ref's position by the side of the court and had come over to where we were. "You wrecked the other team, dude. What's there to be sad about?"

"Yes," I told him "I… sniffle… I am crying. Crying tears of happiness."

"Ah! I brought tissues!" Snowball suddenly remembered, and then ran back to our spot to grab some. When she got back, she held a bunch to my nose. "Blow."

"HOOOOOOOOOONK!!! … Thanks."

"I get you're happy, dude, but…" French cocked his head and shrugged. He clearly didn't get it. Didn't get why I was so overjoyed. And why would he? He wasn't the one who had never won so much as a participation trophy.

"I'm just so… so… sniffle… so happy I finally won something! I'm so proud of myself! I don't think I've ever won anything before. Not once, in my entire life. So you know what?" Snowball handed me some more tissues and I finished wiping my face off. "I'll take it. I'm gonna remember this win for a long time. Even if it was against a team that put up less of a fight than a bunch of tetraplegic toddlers."

"But that was just one round, dude. You haven't technically won yet."

"Right," I said. "That's why we have to win the whole match now. Don't worry. I'm not gonna gloat about this any more or rub it in our opponent's faces or anything. But we still have to give it the best we've got and win. Who knows? Maybe this win will give me the confidence I need not to be such a pathetic loser all the ti—"

All of a sudden, Harry excitedly broke into the little huddle me, Snowball, and Fence had going on. On the bright side, he interrupted me before I could lapse into being too self deprecating. On the other hand, he had bad news for us.

"Guys, guys!" he whisper-yelled. "We need to throw the match!"

"We need to what the what now?!" Was I hearing this right? My first potential win literally ever and I was supposed to just shrug and toss it over my shoulder into the trash? Screw that! "Wait, why?"

"... That's why." Harry hiked a thumb over his shoulder. The three of us followed it to find…

"What the—?!"

There, off to the side of the court, were five more people, and they were all covered in the same crazy mess of brown, tangly hair that the opponent hitter was!

To be continued!