After what seemed like an incredibly long afternoon, Jenna finally dashed out around five, making a beeline for her truck. She stashed her laptop case under the seat in a special locking compartment, hopped into the cab and kicked off her shoes. She drove the mile and a half to a building labeled "Inspiration Center." Once there, she grabbed a duffel bag from behind the front seat and a long, narrow black bag from the bed of the truck. Jenna headed for the locker rooms inside to change into her practice togs. The girls would arrive soon.
    She had just gotten into the gymnasium when the first of the girls trickled in. "Hey, coach!" a short, thick blond girl greeted her.
    "Hey, Kari! Seen any of the others on their way?"
    "Melissa wasn't in school today, so she won't be at practice tonight. She's got cramps," Kari whispered. "Sara, Tiff, Meghan, and Angie are coming with Jackie's mom. That's all I know of."
    "Well, the new equipment's started to come in. While we're waiting for the others to get here, we can start dressing the poles."
    Kari and Jenna emptied the black bag of its thirty poles and began pulling the flags onto them. As the other girls arrived, they joined in. Soon, all the poles were ready.
    "Everyone's here?" Jenna asked.
    "Except for Melissa!" a slim redheaded girl called out.
    "Okay, Heather. She won't miss much tonight. After the competition Saturday, we're going to take it easy tonight, just working on equipment drills."
    A collective groan came from the girls. "I'd rather run through the footwork again," Angie, a stocky brunette commented.
    "Later," Jenna promised.  "The footwork scores were good, but our equipment scores were low. For now, we work on keeping the equipment together. Flags, work on drop spins, double time, and both left and right hand tosses. Rifles, work on left and right hand spins, double time, and the tosses. Sabers, same deal."
    Jenna walked around the room as the girls spun. This was Jenna's "second life," as she jokingly called it. She coached Rhythm Tribe, an independent A-class winterguard. She worked from six a.m. to five p.m. at Weber, then from five-thirty p.m. to seven-thirty p.m. Mondays, Wednesdays, and alternate Fridays with the guard. From five-thirty p.m. to seven-thirty p.m. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and the other Fridays she worked with Inspiration, a senior-level guard where she was a second-year member. This was Inspiration's building.
    "Kari, watch your angles! Heather, keep your arms at waist height! Good, Angie, good!" Jenna called out encouragement and advice to the girls. After half an hour of practice, she stopped them.
    "Take a break, guys, you deserve it. You've got fifteen minutes, then be back here and we'll switch to footwork. Your arms'll need the rest." The girls gratefully dropped their equipment and headed for the bathrooms, vending machines, and drinking fountains.
    Jenna picked up one of the fallen flags and began to twirl it, running herself through her paces.
    "Drop spins. Double time. Around-the-world. Behind-the-world,"  Jenna murmured, extending the flag and swirling it behind her head.  "Butterflies. Wrist rolls. Shoulder rolls. Body rolls. Skirts, inverted skirts," she murmured, naming off the elements as she ran through them. "Tosses now. Left hand toss. Right hand toss. Push toss. Pop toss. Parallel toss. Turnabout toss," she finished, spinning in a circle and catching the flag.
    "Way to go, coach!" Angie called out.
    "Hey Angie!" Jenna greeted her, stilling the flag. "What's up?"
    "Not much," Angie shrugged, spreading out her flag and sitting Indian-style on the silk. "Normal day at school, a couple quizzes, oh, and some football players started a fight in the library. How was yours?"
    "Weber's vying for a new account, the Detroit Figure Skating Club. I had to head out there today to propose some new designs for their web site."
    "Really? Meet any of the famous skaters?" Angie was a die-hard skating fan, never missing an event, even if it meant taping it while Rhythm Tribe was at a competition.
    "One. Thom Ellison."
    "Thom? You met Thom?" Angie gasped. "Did you see him skate at all?"
    "Just a little. He was working on jumps and having trouble."
    "Too bad. He used to be pretty good,"  Angie said knowledgably.  Her mother had been a tiny-tots coach at the Detroit club, and Angie took lessons free for several years, until her mother passed away in an auto accident in 1994.  The same accident had left Angie with a pin in her knee.  That, combined with the cost of lessons, effectively ended Angie's skating.  Now, Angie was a two-year member of Rhythm Tribe, and a valued member at that.  "Anything else happen in your meeting?" Angie asked. "Meet anyone else?"
    "No, just Thom. I had to get back to Weber and report to Dan."   Jenna checked her watch. "Wow, break's over. Back to the grindstone, gals!" she called out to the rest of the guard, still lingering in the hallway.  "We've got another competition a week from Saturday, so let's get cracking!" Jenna waited for the girls to pick up their equipment and get into place before turning on the tape. "Let's go!"
 

    Jenna opened her apartment door and gratefully sank into the couch cushions. It had been a long day. First the prelim designs, then Greg asking her to a concert, then meeting Thom Ellison, then having to deal with three separate crises at work, then the practice. "One of these days, I'm just gonna drop in my tracks," she muttered, kicking her shoes off. "But not tonight." She hauled herself off the couch and over to the fridge. "Dinner. Hmmm, anything?" She rummaged around, finally pulling out a bottle of water and a pint of chocolate-peanut-butter ice cream. "Not the healthiest in the world, but better than nothing. I really have to go shopping."
    She set the food on the table, then ducked into her bedroom to change. When she came out, she was in loose black sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Her auburn hair had been released from its bun and cascaded to her waist in a ponytail. Walking back to the table, she noticed that her answering machine was blinking at her. She hit play, then opened the ice cream.
    Beep! "Hi, Jenna, this is Greg." Jenna rolled her eyes. "Just calling to remind you about the concert next weekend." Damn! Jenna hit her forehead. Rhythm Tribe had a competition next weekend. She'd forgotten all about it when she told Greg she'd go with him. "It's on Friday night at 8:30." Whew! Jenna sighed, relieved. The competition was on Saturday, and Friday's Inspiration practice had been canceled. "Want me to pick you up, or do you want to meet there?" She chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Let me know at work tomorrow, 'k? Bye."
    Beep! "Jenna, it's Melissa. I won't be at practice tonight cause I wasn't feeling well. I'll be there Wednesday, though, don't worry. Sorry. Bye!"
    Beep! "Jenna, it's Greg again. I don't mean to fill up your answering machine, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out this weekend. Either call me, or let me know at wok. Bye!"
    Beep! Beep! Beep!
    Jenna sat back, thoughtfully sipping at her water.  "Could be worse things than having Greg ask you out," Jenna mused. "Could've been Gene from Advertising."  Could be better, too.  Could've been Thom Ellison, she thought, then snorted.  Yeah.  Right.  Some elite athlete was going to call out of the blue after a brief meeting with her.  Who do you think you are, Bauer, Marilyn Monroe?  She made up her mind to tell Greg that yes, she'd go out with him this weekend, and yes, she'd appreciate it if he'd pick her up for the concert next weekend.