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Janelle.”
    Dana felt a hard lump form in her throat. “ FYI , Julia, I’ve been calling her Nelly since we were in kindergarten.”
    Julia crossed her arms. “ FYI , Dana, we’re not in kindergarten anymore. Besides, Janelle’s been through a life-threatening, life-changing experience. I don’t think we should be calling her baby names anymore.”
    “Well,” Dana said, trying to keep her voice even as she watched Janelle make her way back toward them, “why don’t we let Janelle decide?”
    “Okay. Why don’t we?” Julia smiled broadly. “Janelle, Dana and I were just talking about those silly names people used to call us when we were in, like, kindergarten? Remember?”
    Janelle smiled. She seemed glad for the shift in conversation. “Ugh,” she said. “Don’t remind me. So embarrassing.”
    “Don’t you think it’s time they disappeared for good?”
    “Oh,” said Janelle, “I thought they had disappeared.” She shivered. “I just hated that!” She rolled her eyes.
    Julia looked at Dana. She didn’t say a word, but the look on her face said, I told you so .
    “Hey,” said Janelle, “it’s my turn to feed the fish. Anyone want to help me?
    Julia smiled. “Sure.”
    Dana didn’t move. Janelle had been through a life-changing experience. Apparently, that meant friend-changing too. Dana didn’t go over to the fish tank. She didn’t go back out to the hallway either. She decided she was going to keep her name on the list for tryouts next week. Practices would give her something new to do at recess.
    Dana scanned the list again just before she left the school that afternoon to make sure her name was still there. It was. Hers was the only grade-six name on it.

Ten
    ON THE DAY of the tryouts, Dana left the classroom without a word to the other girls. She changed into a T-shirt and shorts and made her way over to the gym. She pulled open the door and peeked inside. There were a dozen or so girls already serving and bumping balls all over the gym and another half dozen tying their shoes, stretching or pulling their hair up into ponytails. Dana sighed. There were plenty of girls here to form a team. They didn’t really need anyone from grade six. She considered leaving, but the shouts and the sound of the volleyballs hitting the floor made her hesitate. She liked volleyball. A lot.
    Dana spotted the coach, Mr. Finch, pulling volleyballs out of an enormous mesh bag. “Dana!” he said as he stood up. “Here to try out?”
    She nodded.
    “Where’s everyone else from your class?”
    She shrugged.
    “That’s okay. We’re glad you came. We’re just about to get started.” He blew two sharp blasts on his whistle, and all the girls stopped what they were doing and crowded around, balls tucked under one arm. “Okay, ladies,” he called. “I want to welcome you all to volleyball tryouts. Now, they’re called tryouts for a reason—I really want to see everyone trying. Let’s give it our best. All right?”
    The girls nodded and cheered.
    “Great. Let’s start with some serving. Half of you make a line on this side of the net, and half of you go to the other side. One player from this group will serve the ball over, then one from the other group will catch it and serve it back, okay?”
    Dana joined the end of the line on the far side of the gym. That way she could watch for a few minutes before serving. Some of the girls served low, so the ball hit the net and bounced back. They had to run up and catch the ball themselves and roll it over to the other side. Some served high and hit the rafters. Some served sideways and hit the bleachers. But a few were able to serve the ball perfectly. The ball would soar over the net and hit so hard that Dana thought it might make a hole in the floor. “Crater maker!” the girls would yell. Dana’s first serve hit the net, and she felt the heat in her face as she ran to catch the ball. Her second serve went over, but it was soft and would have been easy