I was in the old locker room putting on my new jersey for the game. It felt like real volleyball, not a t-shirt and shorts but a true uniform for a true team. I fingered the uniform in my hand and ran my index finger over the number again and again until I really believed it was mine. I slipped it on and had never felt so good in my life. Finally I pulled out my new knee pads and to my surprise a folded piece of paper fell out. I unfolded the hot pink page and saw my older sister Chrissie's perfect handwriting scrolled on it. “Good luck today, I know you will do great! I will try to make it in time for your match but if not, serve your heart out and bump like there’s no tomorrow.” I smiled because every time we played volleyball she always tells me that but it had never meant as much as it did now. I loved volleyball so much and its all I thought about night and day. I had become old enough to play on a competitive team and it was my first game.

Half an hour later, I was in the heat of the game, bumping, serving and spiking. I never had saw it coming but one second I dove for a low ball and the next second I was lying on the floor, pain coursing through my leg from the impact of my teammate landing on my right leg. My coach ran onto the court calling for my sister to take me to the hospital right away. Chrissie helped me to my left leg and together we headed for her beat-up pickup.

With the help of my sister, I hobbled into the ER 20 minutes later. She went over to the front desk to check in and I limped over to the sitting area. Choosing the chair over the couch I immediately started biting my lavender nails and anxiously tapping my uninjured foot on the linoleum tiles. I couldn't stand any other sports besides for volleyball so I flipped the TV to the news and watched but I wasn't paying any attention for my mind was reeling. The doctor told me what I feared most, my leg was broken and I was out for the season.

I went home a few hours later and laid on the couch holding back tears with all my strength. Chrissie was in the kitchen on the phone telling my mom about the break and she kept repeating,

"I know but she's tough mom, she'll find a way." Anger boiled over and I started silently crying, thinking about how I will sit around all day with nothing to do for months on end. Chrissie pushed the phone back onto the hook and shuffled into our family room and slid into a chair worn out from the day. She looked at my sympathetically and said,

"Come on this isn't helping anyone- lets bake a cake, chocolate, your favorite." I put up my best facade and let her help me into the kitchen. We started pulling out ingredients and adding them to the cake and my fake front started to evaporate because before I knew it, I was smiling and wanting to make more and more cake. We made 5 cakes and placed them into the rack and using the counter edge I slid to the cool tile floor and watched the cakes over time. The way they rose slowly but determined surprisingly inspired me and showed me the truth of the injury. It wasn't a bad thing but a way to help me grow and learn other things I wouldn't have considered before. After the cakes were done Chrissie piped up, "Ok, we can go watch a volleyball match on TV now,"

"Actually, If it's ok with you I found this cool recipe for brownies, wanna make them with me?"

She smiled and replied, "Of course I do."