knew what she was thinking: Is this how you plan to get off the wait list?
Guilt rolled into a ball in my stomach. “I know. I will.”
Coach gave me a stern-but-encouraging clap on the shoulder, and I ran onto the field.
* * *
—
I couldn’t be sure when exactly Ruby arrived. I didn’t have a chance to look in the first quarter—we were down a goal early, and I took Coach’s scolding to heart, going after the ball like my whole future depended on it. Which, in a way, it did. Only when I scored the tying goal, and my teammates rushed to crush me in a hug, did I feel safe glancing at the bleachers.
And there she was, sitting at the very back, perfectly and oh my God thank God alone. She was leaning against the fence, and when she saw me looking, she sat up and lifted two thumbs high above her head. My whole body blushed and surged with adrenaline. It wasn’t like I’d expected her to actually bail, but I must have very nearly lost hope without realizing it, because I was so happy, and so relieved, that I felt like I could fly if I took off running fast enough. Or else I really, really liked her.
Having Ruby in the stands wasn’t like having my mom there, or even Jamie. With them I felt like I had something specific to live up to. They’d both been to enough of my games to know what I was capable of on my very best days, and to show them anything less felt like letting them down. But Ruby had never seen me play before. I was fairly certain she’d never been to a high school–level soccer game at all. She had no expectations, so it was easy to beat them. When Jamie was in the stands I felt her eyes on me with every step I took. Ruby’s being there to see me was so improbable it felt made up, like a daydream I’d had as a freshman. My perpetual disbelief allowed me to forget she was there between time-outs, when I’d check to make sure she still was. As a result, I played better than I had in weeks. If only UNC were here to see me now, I thought. But then, of course, that would have ruined it.
Despite my best efforts, the teams remained tied until there were four minutes left. Then three. I was stuck in the corner trying to steal the ball from a furious Hanna Ward, when finally I got a foot past her and stole it. To my left I saw Ronni rushing the net, and I crossed the ball. The placement was perfect. She didn’t even have to slow down. She kicked, and the ball sailed into the upper right corner of the net, just past the goalie’s fingertips. My team erupted in cheers and we all ran toward Ronni in a mad leaping rush, burying her beneath a pile of our bodies.
After the obligatory interteam high-five lineup with Albion’s very gracious losers—me trying desperately to make eye contact with Hanna Ward, who avoided it like her life depended on it—Ronni looped her arms around my waist and lifted me off the ground in a hug.
“There she is!” she yelled. “Classic Ryan!”
I laughed until she put me down. “That goal, though,” I said. “Incredible.”
Ronni shrugged, visibly pleased. Her eyes locked on the stands, and she half shouted, “Oh shit!” I turned to see Ruby descending the bleachers, and felt grateful to already be red and sweaty. “Be cool,” I hissed. Ronni nodded.
Ruby jumped smoothly off the last row of bleachers and sauntered over to us, speeding up at the last second to hug me with such force I was nearly knocked flat. I was slick with sweat, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Wow, hello,” I said.
“You were so good, dude!” At that last part, I winced a little, but I recovered before Ruby pulled back from our hug, and then it didn’t matter. I couldn’t be that close to her and not break into a huge, obnoxious smile. Ronni, a goddess among girls, excused herself without saying