been cut,” Phoebe says wryly, and hops up onto the kitchen island. “So I hope you can return those tent thingies.”
“Very funny.” Her mother wraps the bag of ice in a fresh dish towel and presents it to her daughter.
Phoebe folds her arms. “Mom! I just told you! My knee feels great.”
“Like I don’t know how hard Coach makes you girls work today.”
“It was brutal,” Phoebe concedes. “Borderline sadistic, actually.” She can’t hide her pride when adding, “And I totally killed it.”
As grueling as Coach’s workouts are on the last day of tryouts, Phoebe has always, weirdly, looked forward to them. The other girls tend to think of this final day as something they need to survive in order to make varsity. For Phoebe, it’s a chance to show off her very best qualities as a player. When it comes to strength and endurance, Phoebe is peerless on the Wildcats.
In her very first season, she and Mel were newbies and completely blindsided the first time the older players dropped their sticks and started Coach’s warm-up loop over again. Phoebe had eaten a bagel with cream cheese for breakfast that morning, a mistake, and by the beginning of their fourth mile run she was overcome by the urge to puke. Phoebe didn’t stop running, didn’t even slow down. She kept pace at the front of the pack with the older girls and just turned her head, arching her neck and projecting as best as she could toward the sideline.
The Wildcats talked about that move for the entire rest of the season. Phoebe was an instant legend.
And so, from the minute her eyes fluttered open after her ACL surgery, Phoebe vowed that, by today, she would return to the field in better shape than ever before. It is what pushed her in rehab to do another set of reps, pedal another mile on the stationary bike. It transformed her despair into determination.
She still has work to do. Her timing is stubbornly off, Phoebe knows. And even if she pretends otherwise, Mel knows it too. But that was part of why performing well today was so important to Phoebe. She could show her team and Coach how committed she was to coming back 100 percent. To prove that she would never stop working until she got there.
“I’m sure you did kill it, Phoebs.” Her mother shakes her head and sighs. “Just like I’m sure that, if your knee was hurting you, you wouldn’t tell me.” With that, her mother places the ice on Phoebe’s leg, holding it there while the cubes shift and slide inside the bag, forming a steady cradle of cold around her knee. “And that’s what worries me more than anything.”
Phoebe rolls her eyes. Of course she gets why her parents act like this. They’ve spent the past nine months in limbo, simultaneously in awe and unnerved by their daughter’s determination. Torn between cheering Phoebe on and urging her to take it easy. If only they’d quit torturing themselves and accept what they all know to be true. Even if her parents asked her, begged her, to slow down, Phoebe wouldn’t. Couldn’t. The pain of not being a Wildcat is worse than anything Phoebe ever feels in her knee.
“You’ll see at tomorrow’s scrimmage that you don’t have to worry,” Phoebe says.
“Remember that word, okay? ‘Scrimmage.’ Meaning the outcome doesn’t matter.”
Phoebe recoils. “Mom. We’re playing Oak Knolls.”
Her mother turns on the sink. “What about that girl? Who replaced you?”
“Kearson Wagner.”
“Is she back on the JV team or …”
“She made varsity too.” Phoebe sees her mother soften with relief, which royally pisses Phoebe off. “I’m actually glad Coach gave Kearson another chance.” This isn’t a lie, exactly. Just a slightly more benevolent version of the truth. “But I hope she’s not too bummed when she doesn’t see much playing time.”
“Well, at the very least, this Kearson girl will be there if you need a rest. I’m sure that’s why Coach—”
“I won’t need a rest.” Phoebe hops down. Even though the ice bag feels good, she tosses it into the sink, sending a splash of soapy water up against her mother’s polo.
“Seriously, Phoebe? This is exactly what got you into this trouble in the first place!”
Upstairs, Phoebe gets a bath running, hot water tap turned full blast. She shakes in a generous amount of Epsom salts, which her PT said she should be doing after every practice and game. While the tub fills and the air thickens with steam, Phoebe peels off her