and charged. She took the ball and Ruby in a slick sliding tackle that had her team whooping it up.
The tangle of limbs started to flail as Ruby rolled and mounted Sophie. They grappled and clamored, and I was in a dead run. By the time I crossed the fifty yards, I had to push my way through the team of girls encircling the fight. Sophie S. had Ruby by the hair while Ruby worked some weird WWF wrestling move on her.
“I hate you!”
“I hate you more, you pathetic, extra bitch!”
The rest of the team watched horrified and enthralled at the violence. Wading in, I grabbed Sophie first since she’d worked her way back on top. I shoved her in the direction of Team Sophie and pulled Ruby to her feet. Ruby tried to get around me, and I saw stars when her bony elbow connected with my cheek.
“Knock it off, or you’re both benched,” I yelled. Sophie broke free of her friends and tried to climb over my back to get at Ruby. It was my turn to throw an elbow, right into her stomach. She deflated like a popped beach ball. Ruby laughed with a taunting grin.
“Both of you to the damn bench!”
“But coach, she started—” Sophie wheezed from the ground
“Do I look like I give a rat’s ass who started it? You’re both acting like…” Teenage girls who haven’t yet learned women are on the same team. “Idiots.”
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and quit?” Ruby said to Sophie.
“Why don’t you quit? Then you’ll have more time to chase after Milton like the pathetic loser you are,” Sophie shot back.
“Do not even tell me this is over a guy named Milton,” I said. “Both of you. Bench. Now. The rest of you, let’s finish this game without the drama queens.”
The rest of the team seemed relieved to get back to the scrimmage and jumped back into play. I kept a wary eye on the two girls pouting on the bench. I couldn’t believe they stayed. Didn’t they know there was nothing stopping them from getting in their cars and driving off? Was this the perceived authority Jake told me about?
I slapped a damp paper towel over my throbbing cheekbone and cursed my life.
Me: OK, Ms. Psychology Major. I’ve got two girls on the team battling it out over the same boy. How do I fix it?
Zinnia: I do not miss those teen years. We were so dumb.
Me: Come on. You never stooped to the normalcy of obsessing over a boy. You were too busy being brilliant.
Zinnia: Don’t be a jerk.
Me: Sorry. Rough day. I vomited in front of my team, was carried off the field by a very attractive cross-country coach who ruined my life in high school, and earned a black eye from breaking up a girl fight.
Zinnia: Apology accepted. And I’m definitely going to need the full story. Call me Tuesday? In the meantime, I’ll send you some resources on team-building and the scarcity mentality.
Me: Thanks. I need to find out if this Milton is worth the There Can Be Only One shitshow. Everything good with you? How are the kids?
Zinnia: The usual craziness here. Think we’re going to squeeze in a quick trip to Paris over Christmas break. Edith is really doing well with the violin. First chair in the children’s orchestra! The other two are drowning us in A’s and accolades. And Ralph is being wooed by a shall-not-be-named medical center in NYC for a department head position.
Me: …
Me: …
Me: Wow. Congratulations.
Me: Teen boy named Milton. Go.
Floyd: I can only assume this is regarding Ruby and Sophie S. and their catfight today. How’s the eye?
Me: Cheek. And I don’t even want to know how you know. It’s bruised and they’re benched. Milton?
Floyd: Teenage stud. Starter on the varsity boys soccer team. Floppy Harry Styles hair. Shot up six inches last year. Rumor has it he dumped Sophie S. for Ruby this summer and then dumped Ruby for half the field hockey team.
Me: Great. So they’re fighting over a guy neither of them is dating?
Floyd: It’s the hormones in milk. It makes them all insane.
12
Marley
“You look adorable,” my mother announced.
“Thanks.” I glanced down at my outfit. Khaki shorts and a polo shirt. I’d sent pictures of both to Floyd the night before to make sure it was gym teacher approved.
As long as they weren’t booty shorts, he’d given me the thumbs up. They weren’t booty, but they were shorts. I couldn’t remember