still-damp layers, a tank top, her sports bra, her shorts and underwear.
Usually, by the end of summer, she’s a tan line disaster. A crosshatch made from various combinations of tank tops and sports bra straps. A bronze band between where shorts end and her shin guards begin. To even their skin out, both she and Mel would strategically drape themselves in pool towels so that the sun hit only certain parts of their body.
But this summer, Phoebe’s tan is enviable. She twists and turns in the mirror. Baked an even brown over her shoulders and chest, creamy white in one line where her bandeau bathing suit top kept her covered. Even better than the girls who lifeguard at the country club pool.
To Phoebe, it looks weird.
The last thing that comes off is her compression bandage—Knee Spanx is what Phoebe calls it. She sits on the toilet and rolls it down. It’s damp and smells musty, having taken a real beating this week.
Phoebe has a hinged brace she wears on the field. She fucking hates it. Black, hard plastic, a hinge on either side, lots of Velcro straps, all parts working to keep her knee stabilized. It is ugly as hell and impossible to ignore when she has it strapped on. But yes, of course Phoebe wears it. She’s not an idiot.
The Knee Spanx, however, Phoebe has on most of the time. And like actual Spanx, it simultaneously increases her confidence while also making Phoebe aware that she needs a gimmick to trick everyone, including herself, that her body’s different than it actually is.
The moment Phoebe first hurt her knee was memorable only because of the injury she sustained. She almost wishes it had been the result of some killer highlight-reel play, an insane collision that would have made the crowd gasp. But no.
It was three games before the end of last season. Phoebe had been pushing a ball up the field, when a defender finally reached her. Phoebe got the pass off her stick, slicing it upfield for Mel, but the defender still swiped at her. Phoebe hurdled the defender’s stick so as to not be slowed down following the play. Her body had successfully performed this action somewhere in the neighborhood of a bazillion times before. She landed on her left foot, as per usual. But before her right one came down, Phoebe was flat on her back.
Mel threw down her stick and sprinted over. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Phoebe’s knee didn’t pop, and to her immediate relief, she wasn’t in a ton of pain. But when she tried to get up on her own, she found she couldn’t put much weight on her left leg. “Shit.”
The ref blew his whistle, stopped time. Every player knelt down as is custom. Not just the Wildcats. The opposing team too. Out of respect.
With her arms slung over Coach and the athletic trainer, Phoebe hopped off the field. Mel followed them to the sideline, carrying Phoebe’s stick for her, and crouched down next to Phoebe, listening intently as the trainer assessed her.
“How’s it feel, Phoebe?”
Phoebe glanced down at her knee. It was suddenly a balloon. “Better than it looks,” Phoebe said, trying not to sound nervous.
She waved at her parents across the field. Gave them a thumbs-up.
Coach lingered over her for a few seconds, but then called in the team and made some quick adjustments. Phoebe tried not to take it personally. He’d be over later to check on her. They had two other midfielders besides Phoebe, but one was currently on the field and the other subbing in on defense. Half the team had to shift around in order to restart the game.
Meanwhile, the trainer went to work. Feeling her knee, moving her leg around. As soon as the game restarted, Phoebe’s eyes were on the field. Everyone looked so awkward out there, in these new positions, especially Mel.
“It’s not that bad!” Phoebe told the trainer, convincingly until a certain twist brought a shock of pain that took her breath away.
“I think it’s an ACL sprain.” The trainer threw an instant cold pack onto the bench a few times, then handed it to Phoebe. “Let’s see what this does for the swelling. I’ll come check on you in ten minutes.”
Phoebe made it five. The time was itchy. It was so uncomfortable for her not to be out there. She was always out there.
“I really think I’m good,” she told the trainer.
“Phoebe.”
The Wildcats were still up three to nothing. But