My throat hurts and my hands are sore, but I haven't been filled with so much school spirit in a while. Nancy and I watched the senior girls' volleyball team play in the semi-finals, and it was actually terrifying to watch. Advancing this round didn't appear as easy as beating Bishop Carroll. I came from band in the middle of the second match, and Nancy told me that we had won the first game 25-12. Unfortunately, when I sat down, we were tied 11-11, and Beaverbrook scored nine uncontested points before we finally scored five more points and ended up losing. Nancy and I were honestly sitting there with our heads in our hands. Spikes were getting blocked, serves were either too short or too long, and the second hit always seemed so unsure. However, we came back in the third game with a dominating 25-14 win. It was a shaky start, but before long, they were finding the gaps and spiking without returns. We were racking up points and the crowd was going crazy. This match was ours; we were meant to go to the finals.
Of course, you have to fight hard to get to the top, and the girls went neck and neck, constantly tying, or mere points away from each other. Aberhart went ahead, and then Beaverbrook, and the score constantly juggled back and forth. Once Beaverbrook was up 19-17, Nancy and I were shaking in our seats. But the girls stepped up, and answered Beaverbrook's obnoxious cries by tying the score. Then we were a point ahead. Two up. Three points up. Suddenly it was 24-20, and we were all waiting for the definitive spike to end the game. We lost the serve and the point, but, determined not to let go, they set up the ball perfectly and slammed one down into the other side of the court. Beaverbrook couldn't return it, and the gym was in an uproar. We're going to city champs, baby. And in the most exciting way possible.
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