of bleachers directly behind the Wildcats’ team bench. Though there was already a nice crowd to watch the game, and it continued to fill in, the stadium was so big that the place felt empty. Still, the JV girls were fizzing with anticipation. They hardly ever got to see the varsity team play because they were on opposite schedules—home games when varsity was away, and vice versa. And this game held a significance far beyond anything they’d personally experienced. Even though they had finished their season respectably the week before, with a shutout against Shaler Township to an almost full home field crowd, JV was essentially just practice, a chance to sharpen their skills, learn how their teammates played, scope out the competition. Whether JV won or lost was almost an afterthought.
The Wildcats hardly got off a shot in the first half. Mel and Phoebe struggled to slip back into their rhythm. No one was worried. Even though varsity had lost the last two regular-season games. And Phoebe wasn’t in tip-top form. It was still unimaginable they’d lose to Oak Knolls.
After halftime, things started to come apart for the Wildcats but it fused the JV together. The Wildcats were making stupid mistakes and playing sloppily. The JV team had been boisterous throughout but now they screamed their throats raw. They wanted their enthusiasm to smooth whatever was cracking. They wanted their belief in the varsity girls to make them believe in themselves. As the clock ticked down, they abandoned their hopes for an outright win, and prayed the game would remain scoreless and go into overtime.
And then, with just two minutes to go, Darlene Maguire scored on Ali.
The JV girls clung to one another. It took a second to absorb the shock, but Grace and her fellow teammates still applauded Ali’s efforts—she’d gotten a finger on it.
When Darlene scored again not a minute later, the JV girls were far less forgiving. Grace heard them cattily pointing out how Ali had barely moved. Marissa even said, “What the eff? Did Ali have a stroke out there or something?”
At the end of every game, all the players on the Wildcats jog down to the end of the field, pick up their goalie, and walk off the field together. It’s a sign of unity. But after the final whistle, no one went to get Ali.
Granted, there was a lot of commotion. Senior girls crying. The team trainer running out to help Phoebe off the field. Mel, sinking to her knees in front of the scoreboard. Still, Ali glanced around for her teammates, dazed at first, then disbelieving. And Grace, despite her distance from the field, felt a familiar sting.
The JV girls glumly shuffled up the bleacher stairs and toward the exit, evaporated adrenaline now exposing them to the frigid temperature. Grace went the opposite direction, fighting the flow of the departing crowd down to the entrance of the players tunnel. There, she quietly, respectfully wished “Good game” to all the Wildcats on their way to the locker rooms, okay that her voice was drowned out by Oak Knolls well-wishers who vastly outnumbered her. But when Ali finally came through, hobbling in her bulky pads, Grace cupped her hands and shouted, to ensure it wouldn’t be.
Coach was last off the field and the only one who looked up at the sound of Grace’s voice. She briefly thought she saw Coach cringe before he disappeared into the tunnel, though at the time, Grace blamed the cold. After all, the snow flurries had just begun to fall.
Except tonight, in the August heat, he’d done it again. This time, during his speech, the one and only time his eyes had landed on her.
“Grace!”
Ali, in a strapless floral bathing suit, beckons Grace across the backyard, over to where Mel is in the middle of a pre-swim pep talk with the rest of the Wildcats.
“Listen. I know that Coach’s speech was a bit of a surprise tonight. But … I mean …” Mel shrugs. “That’s his style, you know? He likes to keep us on our toes. And all he really cares about is what happens on the field when it’s game time.”
Grace feels herself nodding in agreement. It is a comfort. A place where Grace knows without a doubt she’ll measure up.
“But it’s okay. We’re okay. And tomorrow we’re going to show Coach, and Oak Knolls, that the girls on this team know exactly who we are.”
From off to the side, a streak of a voice. “We are