Jeremiah was a bully. And he knew it. The fiery look in his eye proved it. Everyone was always telling him that he was “so mean”. Mean. Mean. Mean. It’s all he heard. He didn’t try to be. But their words reminded him that he had to live up to the label. And as a frequent flyer in the principal’s office, live up to it he did. Most of the time for picking on someone for something.
“I’ll hire you as our hoops coach,” Kylie said, looking him square in that fiery gaze, “I think you’ll do a good job here.”
On his first day on the job, Jeremiah was assigned an individual shooting lesson. His client, Jake, wheeled into the gym. Jeremiah bit his lip and tugged at the bottom of his t-shirt. He had never worked with handicapped players before, but remembered what his coach had once told him – a lot of shooting is about angles and trajectory. So he forgot about the wheels and focused on the arms.
As he wheeled out of the gym, Jake stopped to make an appointment for the next week. “It was worth my Micros,” he declared to Michaela, who penciled his name into a new time slot. “My coach was so nice.”
Nice. Milling over the word, Jeremiah thought he could get used to it. It didn’t scream “superstar” or anything. But that was cool. He could live up to that label.
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