tries to get away with just a wave goodbye, but her mother beckons her over. Kearson comes as close as the curb.
“I’d like to swing by your scrimmage tomorrow. I have a closing in the morning but—”
“You don’t have to do that.” Kearson’s voice is heavy on the don’t.
“I’m trying to be supportive, Kears. I’ve backed way off, which you know isn’t easy for me. Can I at least get a little credit for that?”
“If you really want to support me, then you won’t come. I just want to play, Mom. I don’t want to have to think about you.” It sounds meaner than she intended, but Kearson isn’t about to walk it back.
Her mother leans across the car to the passenger side, trying to close the gap between them, and says quietly, “Okay,” but her voice is uncertain, even regretful. She wants to change her answer. Kearson makes sure to walk away before her mother has the chance.
“Have fun with the girls tonight,” her mother calls after her. Less directive than plea.
Defiant, Kearson tells her, “I will.”
She surfs that wave of energy straight into Mel’s house. Hugs her teammates with equal-if-not-tighter squeezes. Smiles for their pictures and takes just as many pictures of them. The girls go out of their way to be nice, and Kearson is grateful for every undeserved kindness they show her, so grateful that she stays with them for as long as she can possibly bear to.
But the way her guilt hangs on her takes her by surprise, heavier tonight than it’s been in months. Or maybe it’s easier for Kearson to deflect her guilt with anger when she’s with her mother?
When it gets to be too much, she retreats to the den and finds it a good, quiet place to collect herself. She looks at the books on the bookshelf, studies the pictures of Mel and her family. She flips through an old gossip mag predicting a celebrity divorce that actually did come to pass. She slips off her shoes, climbs onto the back of the den sofa, and presses the taped end of a fallen crepe-paper twist to the wall.
Kearson was euphoric when she unexpectedly got called up to varsity last season. Coach came to her first-period class, and that alone made her heart flutter. In the hallway, he explained the unfortunate situation with Phoebe’s ACL sprain—he’d gotten the call last night—and that Phoebe would be out for three weeks.
Kearson’s hand went to her mouth. “She’ll miss the championship?” Most of the JV girls worshipped Mel Gingrich, because she made it look easy. But Kearson looked up to Phoebe for the opposite reason. Nobody worked harder than her.
Coach nodded solemnly. “This is a dare-to-be-great situation, Kearson,” he told her, and with a bashfulness that she didn’t expect, pulled a Wildcat varsity jersey out from behind his back. “You think you might be up for it?”
Though she loves field hockey, Kearson isn’t the kind of player who’s after a scholarship, or even to play in college beyond an intramural team. But joining the varsity team still gave her plenty to daydream about. Slipping right in with Mel and feeding her perfect passes. Getting her picture in the newspaper. Earning herself a Wildcats varsity jacket.
Kearson tries to grab hold of those dreams again, fishing around for them like her house keys at the bottom of her book bag. They must still be inside her somewhere since none of them ended up coming true.
She stiffens as a palm presses into the hollow between her shoulder blades, then draws back, the blunt edges of a gel manicure tenderly clawing up the looseness of Kearson’s top.
“Hey! I’ve been looking for you!” Mel tilts her head to the side. “Why are you in here all by yourself?”
“My dad just called to wish me luck tomorrow.”
“Oh. Sweet. Can I talk to you for sec? Privately?”
A trickle of sweat rolls down the small of Kearson’s back. “Sure.” But Mel immediately puts her at ease. Linking arms, Mel guides her out of the den and up the staircase to the first landing. Both girls sit down with their knees angled toward each other. Noises from the party simmer below them.
Keeping her voice down, Mel says, “I’m trying to make this spoiler free, Kearson, but I have some special activities planned for tonight, and one of them involves the returning players welcoming the new girls to the team.” Mel scoots closer until their knees are touching. “I know this is your first Psych-Up,