know what this is,” I said. “It’s just falling out of my face.”
Ronni pulled me up by the arm and clapped me on the back. I sniffled the whole walk to our cars, which she politely ignored.
* * *
—
We went where we always went when one of us (usually me) needed to muffle her suffering with food: In-N-Out. We ordered burgers and fries and milkshakes (strawberry for Ronni, chocolate for me) and carried our trays to a table outside. The sun had set, and it was immediately twenty degrees cooler. I thought about my sweatshirt, and Ruby wearing it, and I realized she hadn’t given it back.
As usual, Ronni and I ate more than half our food before we spoke. I inhaled my shake like oxygen, and when I started sucking actual air, Ronni gave me a look.
“You think you got it all?”
“Sorry.”
“Is it Jamie or Ruby?”
“What?” My heart rate picked up just hearing their names. I reached for my milkshake again before I remembered it was gone. It was all gone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, which one got in there before the game?” She pointed to her temple.
“Neither,” I said. She cocked her head; she didn’t believe me. But it was the truth, pretty much. “I just had an off day.”
Ronni took a preparatory breath and I looked sadly, again, at my empty cup. “I say this with love, and with the acknowledgment that you are ordinarily a very good soccer player, but you’ve had kind of a lot of off days recently.”
I felt the tears returning and pressed my palms to my eyes. “I know.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”
“I know.”
“Although I would have preferred to win.”
I laughed, and when I uncovered my eyes I saw Ronni grinning back at me.
“Halle played like shit too, you know,” I said. “She should’ve stopped that last one.”
“Oh, don’t get me started.”
I dragged a cold french fry back and forth through the sea of special sauce at the bottom of the paper tray.
“I don’t know if I’m gonna get in,” I said.
“UNC?”
I nodded.
“You haven’t heard?”
I shook my head. “I sent in my application, finally, but…I don’t know.” The more time that passed, the more arrogant it seemed for me to think I could just show up and they’d let me play. Did I even want to play for a school that didn’t want me?
“There’s still some time,” said Ronni, but it was obvious she barely believed herself.
“Not much, though.”
“What about UCLA?”
“Still wait-listed,” I said. “But even if they do end up wanting me…” I trailed off. It wasn’t hard to imagine myself at UCLA, and maybe that was the problem. I could be a Bruin, and wear a blue-and-yellow jersey with my name on the back. Knowing I wasn’t anyone’s first choice.
“They have a great program!” Ronni added. “Sydney Leroux went there!”
I knew that, of course, and Ronni knew I knew. She also knew that Sydney Leroux had never been wait-listed, and that Sydney Leroux would have been Sydney Leroux no matter where she went to college. If I didn’t play for UNC, or Stanford (not that I’d ever been that delusional), or any other top-five team, I would just be…me.
I scraped at my empty cup with my thumbnail, refusing to meet Ronni’s eyes. “I’ve wanted to go to UNC my whole life,” I said.
“I know.” She paused. “But.”
“But what?”
“But it isn’t only up to you.”
She spoke softly, uncharacteristically so, but I still felt myself welling up. It didn’t seem possible I had any moisture left in me.
Ronni took a deep breath and leaned in closer. “I have had a crush on Luke Bailey since sixth grade.”
That made me look up. Ronni never talked about boys at school.
“Him? Really?” Luke Bailey was