whined when they last FaceTimed. Ali had sat at the breakfast bar while her parents drank smoothies before heading to the golf course. She could watch John-John for hours, the plump rolls of his cherubic body, the way he waved at her with his meaty hands and cooed when Ali sang to him.
Susan, who was on the couch behind John, threw a stuffed rabbit at her brother’s head.
“What? I love when they visit! I just hate doing the touristy stuff. It’s like, how many times in my life do I have to go to the Statue of Liberty?”
Ali let out an anguished cry. “You promised that the next time I came to New York, you’d take me to the Statue of Liberty!”
John and Susan both leaned toward the camera. “Does that mean you’re coming to John-John’s dol?”
Ali grimaced.
Of course she wanted to say yes. So much so that she waited until the last possible minute—until she heard that Coach was for sure coming back—to tell her family no.
Playing field hockey at Ali’s level is a year-round commitment, and there are always things you miss out on. Ali’s declined countless party invites and weekend trips with friends, and she even missed the Spring Fling her sophomore year for traveling team. Sacrifices she never thought twice about. But John-John’s first birthday was a special moment for her entire family, an important and revered Korean tradition. Having to miss out on it was like salt in a wound Ali was pretending not to have. Still pretending.
All this to say, it would have been a difficult decision for Ali, had it been hers to make.
Ali hurries up to meet her parents in the driveway, the strap of her heavy gear bag tipping her body visibly to the left. She kisses and hugs them, combining her hello and goodbye.
“Please take lots of pictures, okay? Like, double what you think is enough,” Ali tells them. She moves her gift for John-John from the trunk into the back seat. She doesn’t want it to be crushed. She wrapped the gift in an adorable paper—one with illustrated animals in silly party hats—bought from the specialty stationery store in town. And Ali tied the ribbon four times before she was satisfied with the loops on the bow. “And take a video of when John-John opens my present. Oh, and another one of the doljabi stuff too! I want to see what John-John picks up.”
“He’ll pick up the book, like me,” her father says.
“First and last time you did,” her mother teases.
Her parents speak to each other. Not to Ali. Still, she’s quick to chime in, “I picked the ball, remember?”
Her mother deadpans, “As if we could forget.”
Ali knows they are still angry she didn’t press the issue with Coach. After all, this was a onetime, one-game miss for a family obligation.
“My team needs me,” she tried explaining. That she hadn’t actually asked Coach would only make it harder for her parents to understand, so she didn’t mention it.
It did feel good to be back playing with the girls again, especially after skipping out on Kissawa this summer. Despite how things ended last season, the Wildcats are looking strong. Grace did great against the freshman Luci, shutting Luci down from getting off a shot most times, though Luci got better each day. Mel was unstoppable, especially now that Phoebe was back chipping her perfect passes from midfield, which allowed Mel to really use her speed, sprinting ahead with full confidence that the ball would land where it needed to. Mel’s shots on goal flew like fiery orange comets. Ali caught them hot in her goalie gloves, slapped them back into the atmosphere with her stick. She held her own. More than held her own.
She was damn near perfect.
“Call me when you get there,” Ali says.
Her father kisses her on the top of her head. “Good luck tomorrow.”
Her mother squeezes her. “We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” Ali feels something catch in her throat.
It really does suck not to be going.
But on the upside, her parents will miss tomorrow’s scrimmage, which is a huge relief. Ali didn’t need that worry on top of everything else.
After the drive away, Ali takes the stone path into the backyard. She kneels on the warm patio stones, unzips her bag, and removes her goalie pads one at a time, laying each out to bake in the afternoon sun.
First out are the pads that strap to Ali’s legs, thick U-shaped foam blocks that cup the tops