add, “But I really missed being with everyone at Kissawa.”
Behind them, Coach clears his throat. Everyone turns and spots him over by the fireplace, his arms folded across his chest.
The girls react with quiet surprise that, unbeknownst to them, he has rejoined their conversation. But for Ali, the sensation is more acute. Closer to a startle. After all, while she yammered on about goalie camp, she kept an eye on the hallway Coach took to the kitchen. It never crossed her mind that he might reenter the living room from a different direction.
“I’m sure your teammates missed you, too, Ali,” he tells her grimly.
Ali becomes hyperaware of the girls around her. Not just the ones in this little cluster but also the girls looking at the family photographs on the wall, the girls perched on the couch, Mel and Phoebe doing something with the sound system.
In the days and weeks after the championship defeat, as her teammates emerged from the fog of loss, Ali had wondered if any of them would come to her wanting answers. Maybe not for that first goal Darlene Maguire scored on her, but absolutely for the second, scored also by Darlene, on the very next breakaway.
That time, Ali had just stood there in a daze. She didn’t even try to stop the shot.
It was so unlike her. Ali was always on her toes, always in motion inside the goal. She had a twelve-game streak of perfect performances last season, with not a single goal scored on her until the championship. Didn’t anyone wonder what happened? Or why?
No.
And not because the girls didn’t care. But because there was nothing Ali could say that could change what happened. Excuses were worthless. That was something Coach taught them. Drilled into their heads.
“I hate how these camps put so much emphasis on developing physical strength. As if a certain number of crunches or push-ups guarantees a win.” Coach taps the side of his head. “There’s a whole other game that gets played up here, and it requires just as much training. I don’t care how fit a player is. If she can’t play a strong mental game, she’s a liability.”
The girls nod in complete and total agreement. Ali would nod too if she could. But she finds herself frozen in a painfully familiar way.
Despite the crushing disappointment in herself after Darlene scored on her the first time, Ali had immediately tried to regroup. It was only one goal. The Wildcats could still come back. After clearing the ball out of her net and sending it upfield to the ref, she flicked off her gloves and took a quick sip of water, clinging to the hope that her failure might even serve as the wake-up call her team needed to finally turn things around.
Meanwhile, players from both teams hustled back to midfield for the upcoming face-off. But not Darlene Maguire. She was lingering near Ali’s goal. She had her goggles pulled up into her hair like a headband, her field hockey stick tucked under her arm, and a mischievous smile on her face. Waiting for Ali to notice her.
When Ali finally did, Darlene raised the pointer fingers on each of her hands in what Ali initially assumed was a doubled We’re Number One! gesture. That is, until she used those two fingers to pull the skin on the outer edges of her eyes taut, lengthening them into slits.
“Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”
No.
Ali hadn’t.
The thing is, in sports, people are always talking trash. Players, fans. They do it to rattle you, to get under your skin, to break your concentration.
But Coach is right. You can’t let them. The best players have the mental discipline to block out the noise and stay focused on the game.
Could that be why Coach is bringing this up? Trying to see if Ali is ready for tomorrow?
If it is, she’s figured his game out too late. She glances around and finds he’s already left the room.
And then, out of nowhere, Ali is pushed, someone’s hand against her left shoulder, and it sends her tipping backward. But she is saved from hitting the floor, her lower back cradled, fingers grabbing Ali’s wrist to keep her suspended.
Phoebe grins down at her from above. “Don’t look so scared, Ali. I’m an excellent dancer.”
FRIDAY, AUGUST 26
6:19 P.M.
PHOEBE
The entire house is wired with speakers, and the playlist Phoebe made especially for tonight streams through all of them, so the music never stops, no matter where she goes. She twirls