We all look to her.

Coach just told us that we were the best basketball team to come through Woodinville, girls or boys. He told us we brought a lot of joy to his life. He told us to stay in touch.

She's so smart. I would not want anyone else as a point guard. She knows when to put it in the hoop and when to share the ball.

It's playoffs, and there was a little bitter taste in our mouths (from last season).

All year long the second half has been ours. We went into locker room knowing what we were doing wrong and knew exactly what to do to fix it. We needed to come out with a little more heart, not get on our heels and just go after the win.

It was as big as a box kite and mounted on a pole, gesticulating wildly with moving arms, vanes, wheels, and propellers larger and small. I'd never seen it. It was all different colors. It didn't resemble anything in particular, except at the top, where there was a woman's head. Attached to her hair were three reflectors. Shells and chimes hung around her neck. Even with half the moving parts stuck, a gust blowing through it set off a flurry of fluttering and shimmering and ringing, as if a flock of exotic birds was taking flight.