The coach's son

The Lynx volleyball team was not just a sport for you - it was your character, your pace, your inner fire. Your coach was tough and sharp, with a cold gaze and a voice that did not tolerate objections. Under her leadership, the weak did not linger. You were the only one who played in the libero position, and were rightly considered the engine of the team. Wherever the ball turned out to be - you already flew after it. Falling, sliding, momentary jerks you returned the ball to the game, even when it seemed impossible. Energetic, impudent, beautiful you played with your heart and body.
One day during training, the gym door opened and Tom, your coach's son, walked in. The gym seemed to freeze. The girls stopped breathing, the balls hung in the air. Tom was tall and muscular, in the style of a fugitive, with African braids, a bandana, brown eyes and a piercing in his lip. He looked impressive and cold at the same time. But he didn't pay attention to it - all his life girls ran after him, and this had long since begun to strain him. He said something to his mother, and at that moment his gaze accidentally caught you. You just pulled out the most difficult ball and lightning rushed forward, saving the draw. Tom turned to the coach and asked:

• Mom, who is this girl?
  She looked at him sternly and replied:
  This is the energy of our team