Nun beach volleyball

As you probably already know, the incomparable Frea O'Scanlin has written fantastic story called, Set, Spike, Dive!  If you haven't read the first chapter yet, go do so right now.  You can read it here.

During the course of one of our recent conversations, I off-handedly commented that it would be interesting to play beach volleyball in a nun's habit.  A dare ensued to write an outtake for SOM1.  There was peer pressure.  There was giggling.  Then there was an idea that wouldn't let go.  Here is the result.  Enjoy.

Sarah Walker threw the closet door open and stood before a huge pile of junk.  Well, it looked like junk to her anyway.  Sister Margareta insisted that they needed one more kneeler and that there was one in the closet.  The cloud of dust that billowed out made Sarah cough and wave the sleeve of her habit like a fan, clearing it away.  The efficiency of it was stunning, actually.  She would probably catch hell—crap, wrong word to think in a convent—for getting her habit dusty.  That Mother Superior was a real ball bu—.  She sneezed and waved her sleeve again.  I’m so not cut out for this.

The closet was a jumble of crucifixes, icons and rusty farm implements.  To anyone else, it would have seemed like a strange mixture, but after a month of living as a nun in a convent, it made complete sense to her.  Not immediately seeing the kneeler, she pushed aside a couple of rickety wooden chairs she was sure would put a sliver in her ass just by looking at them. She huffed a groan.  At least she’d stopped letting those little bon mots slip out.  She’d finally learned to keep that kind of language in her head.  That full day of silence as punishment for the first three offenses taught her that quickly.  She was pretty sure there was nothing that would keep her from going back to her old ways once she left the convent, but in the meantime, she’d watch her mouth.

She moved a painting of a patron saint she couldn’t even begin to name revealing something she really didn’t expect to find:  some kind of net in a moldering pile and a deflated volleyball sitting next to it.

“No!” she exclaimed.  She jumped at the sound of her own voice breaking the silence.  “I can’t believe it.”  Searching the room she mumbled, “There’s gotta be…”  The poles!  She found them.  They were in pieces standing in a back corner.  Scooting past a kneeler—oh yeah—she reached out and grabbed the poles, scooped up the net and ball and tossed them against a stone wall.  Then she dragged the kneeler out of the closet and closed the door.

“I see you found the kneeler, Sister Sarah,” Sister Margareta said, walking up behind her.

“I did.  I also found this,” she said, kicking the volleyball equipment with the toe of her black, sensible shoes.  “Volleyball?”

Sister Margareta smiled and her cheeks pinked.  “Oh, my.  I haven’t seen those things in years.”

“You used to play?”

“We all did.”  She chuckled.  “We were quite good.”

Sarah laughed out.  “You played here at the convent?”

“Of course.  The sand court is right out there by the bull pen.”

“Oh, we have to put this up,” Sarah stated.  She was dying of boredom and this might make her time there a little less tedious.

Sister Margareta’s eyes widened with fear.  “Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Our former Abbess was the one who made us take it down.  She didn’t like the idea of us being competitive with each other.”  Her face fell.  “We were forced to withdraw from the playoffs.”

“Playoffs?  Who were you playing against?”

The sister’s eyes flashed with delight.  “The other convents from up and down the west coast.  We were known as the ‘Spike Sisters.’  It was all very hush, hush.  It was quite exciting.”  She dropped her voice and leaned closer to Sarah.  “The first rule about nun volleyball is:  You don’t talk about nun volleyball.”

Sarah had never seen Sister Margareta so animated.  “What happened?”

“Our convent was the one who kept it all going.  Once we withdrew, the rest of it fell apart.”

There had to be a return of nun volleyball! “I’m going to set up the net and inflate the ball.  We need to play, even if only against each other.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Sister Sarah.  I think we need check with Mother Superior, first.  And I’m sure Sister Agatha wouldn’t approve.”

Sarah snorted.  “Sister Agatha doesn’t approve of anything.”

Sister Margareta opened her mouth as if to argue, but then closed it again.  “She is a bit of a wet blanket, isn’t she?”

Sarah nodded.  “Let’s go set up the net.”  She gave the nun a conspiratorial look.  “It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”

She watched Sister Margareta’s countenance change from worry to collusion.  “You are a very sneaky nun, Sister Sarah.”

She smiled sweetly.  You have no idea.

~ O ~

Clearly, Sarah hadn’t thought through all of the different consequences when she decided she wanted to play beach volleyball at a convent.  The Mother Superior had relented and allowed the net to be put up, but would only allowed them to play in their full habits.  Sarah had started to argue, but was set straight by the other woman’s steely glare.  That woman would make even Director Graham squirm.  After some give and take, Sarah talked Mother Superior into allow them to play without their shoes on after Sarah pointed out that even Jesus wore sandals.

Sarah and Sister Margareta rounded up two others who were willing to play.  The sand between her toes was heavenly and reminded her of that vacation in Cabo where she and—.  Shaking her head, she tried clear the images from her mind.  Men.  She was convinced there wasn’t one good one out there.  Or at least she’d never met one.  In her line of work, she never met sweet guys. She was convinced she never would.

Pounding her hand against the inflated volleyball, she looked at the competition on the other side of the net.  Sister Mary Grace wasn’t very tall, but looked quick.  Sister Catherine was tall, even taller than Sarah but was so timid, she looked like she would barely be able to get it over the net.

“Ready?” Sarah asked her partner, Sister Margareta.  She received a grin and a high five in return.   “Ready.”  Sarah walked to the back line and held the ball, ready to serve with Sister Margareta at the net.

Sarah jumped served the ball to Sister Mary Grace in the backcourt.  Unfortunately, Sarah never saw what happened since she ended up facedown in the sand.  As soon as she tried to move to the center of the court, the skirt of her habit twisted around her legs and tripped her.

Sister Margareta was instantly at her side.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said standing and brushing the sand from the front of the habit.  “I got a little twisted up.”  The habit was driving her crazy.  The black was hot and she could already feel the sweat trickle down her back.  The wimple always felt like it was choking her.  Frustrated at the restrictions on her movement, she reached down between her feet and grabbed the back hem of the skirt, pulled it forward and tucked it in the front of her belt, exposing her long, tan, shapely legs.  She’d have to remember that trick if she ever needed to run in it.

The other three nuns gawped at her.  “Sister Sarah, your legs are really tan,” Sister Mary Grace pointed out.

“Um, yeah.  Just before I came here, I was on a mission in Mexico.”

The other nuns smiled.  “Such a kind heart,” Sister Catherine said.  “We should have known you were a missionary before coming to us.”

Sarah, pleased that she didn’t even have to lie that time, went back to the service line and jump served again.  The ball sailed over the net and bumped by Sister Mary Grace.  Elevating to a height Sarah couldn’t believe, Sister Catherine spiked the ball over the net.  When it landed, sand exploded in every direction.

“Hey!” Sarah called out, laughing.  “You’re a ringer!  Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow High School.  State champions three years in a row.”  Sister Catherine positioned herself behind the service line and held the ball up.  “Prepare to eat leather, Sister Sarah.”

“Bring it, Sister!”

And so they played.  They dug, spiked, set and volleyed.  When Sarah whacked the last ball straight at Sister Mary Grace, it bouncing off her shoulder and out of bounds to win the match, Sarah let out a whoop and tore her wimple off, releasing her mane of golden blonde hair.  The other three nuns gasped.  “Sister Sarah! Your hair isn’t cut short.”

Uh-oh.  She’d promised Mother Superior she’d keep it covered.  “I, uh, I’m growing it out for Locks of Love,” she said, pulling the wimple back on over her head and stuffing the hair back into it.

Mother Superior charged toward the four nuns, habit billowing behind her.  “This is most irregular!” she said, shooting a disapproving look at Sarah’s legs.  She quickly released the skirt of the habit from the belt and let it fall back around to cover her legs. “I’m sorry, Sister Sarah, but because of your wardrobe indiscretion, you’ll need to work in the garden and extra hour each day this week.”  She turned and stormed away.

The other three nuns clustered around her.  “We’re sorry about the punishment,” Sister Catherine said.

Sarah grinned.  “Are you kidding?  To see you three nuns play beach volleyball in full habit?  Totally worth it.”

She couldn’t wait to tell Carina about this someday.