happy to shine a positive light on him.”
Grace’s voice, small, comes from behind the bathroom door. “Please don’t fight. Ali, it was my decision. Mel didn’t pressure me at all. And I was the one who asked her, basically forced her, to tell me what Coach thought about my hair, because I already knew it.”
Ali’s mouth snaps shut shamefully. “Mel. I’m sorry.”
Mel shakes her head, as if to say forget it, and fiddles with her necklace. Ali can tell Mel is upset. She tries to reach for Mel’s hand, but Mel slips away before Ali can grab it. Ali turns to Phoebe, ready to offer another apology to her in Mel’s stead. Phoebe scratches her cheek and turns her attention back to the bathroom door.
“Grace. Please. Just come out.”
The door creaks open. Grace walks out with her head down, her hair still blue. “I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry. You know I would do anything for this team. I’d do anything you asked me. But this wasn’t about you. The only one who cares what my hair looks like tomorrow is Coach. And if he doesn’t give me a varsity jersey because of it, I’m okay with that.”
Ali wraps her arms around Grace, kisses her square on the forehead with a smack.
The basement lights flash on and off and on and off and on and off.
Mel is standing at the switch.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 27
4:40 A.M.
MEL
Okay, girls! That’s it! Time for bed!” A few of them murmur to each other, so Mel flicks the lights a couple more times like she’s their annoying mother. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”
Phoebe hobbles down the hallway toward Mel as quickly as she can. In the flashing lights, skipping forward in choppy segments, her limp looks even more pronounced. “What are you doing?” Mel doesn’t answer, just keeps flashing the lights until Phoebe squeezes her body between Mel and the switch. Careful to keep her voice down, Phoebe pleads, “You can’t shut the conversation down, Mel.”
“We need to sleep, Phoebe.”
“The girls are being really brave right now. If someone has something to say, then they deserve the chance to say it.”
“I’m not saying we can’t talk about this. I’m only saying there’s a better time to have these kinds of very emotional conversations. And not when we’ve been awake for almost twenty-four hours!” Mel tilts her head back and sighs. “You saw how Ali came at me just now!”
Even though Ali immediately apologized, the sting of her words lingers inside Mel, an uncomfortable vibration, an itch impossible to scratch. Worse, though, is that Ali said those terrible things about her in front of the team. Thankfully, Grace came to Mel’s defense, set the record straight. But still. She’s mortified to have been accused of betraying her team. These girls are everything to her.
Phoebe lifts her hands. “Fine. It’s late, the girls are upset, and we definitely don’t want to start fighting with one another. But at the very least you should call a team meeting so we can figure out what to do about tomorrow.”
Mel steps away from Phoebe and peers down the hall and into the main part of the finished basement. Though she ordered the girls to go to bed, none of them have listened. Instead, they sit clustered together, as many as could be crammed on the couch and the rest cross-legged on the floor. Girls are chewing on their fingers, biting down on their lips, rubbing their eyes with their hands. And very clearly trying to eavesdrop on Mel’s discussion with Phoebe.
Mel stands up straight and ticks her volume up. “There’s nothing to figure out. We’re going to show up at Coach’s classroom exactly like he asked us to, at nine o’clock sharp. He’s going to give us our varsity jerseys and we’re going to play field hockey.”
With a huff, Phoebe takes Mel’s hand, laces their fingers together, and tugs Mel deeper into the hallway, to allow them more privacy. “Do you honestly think Ali wants to play tomorrow after how Coach handled what happened?”
Mel doesn’t even need to think about it. “Yes. I do. She’s our goalie. And like I said before, Coach didn’t necessarily understand—”
“What about Kearson? Coach hit her in the face with a water bottle, Mel.”
“That was an accident. Kearson said so herself.”
Phoebe runs both hands through her hair. “What if Coach doesn’t give a varsity jersey to Grace because of her hair? Are you going to be okay with that, Mel?”
Mel puts her hands on her hips. “We