the fucking Wildcats!” Phoebe races through them and cannonballs into the pool to the cheers of the team.
Grace hasn’t gone swimming much this summer. Once at her uncle’s Fourth of July barbecue. A few dips in the lake at Kissawa. The pool in Mel’s backyard has a diving board and also a hot tub just off the stairs leading to the shallow end. Grace would love to dive in but she is afraid her blue hair color might run, so she twists it up in a bun at the tippy top of her head, then lowers herself into the bubbling hot tub. The water is searing but it feels so good on her sore muscles.
Kearson approaches and unfurls her towel. Her bikini is cute. Pink gingham. Grace watches Kearson slide in with her, though she doesn’t exactly join her. Without a word, Kearson leans back and closes her eyes.
Though she wasn’t overtly mean like some of the other JV girls, Kearson never made much of an effort to be nice to Grace either. But Grace knows tonight is about coming together. They are teammates again, but in a new way.
Grace closes her eyes too and clears her throat. “Congrats on making the team.”
“Thanks, Grace,” Kearson says. “You too.”
Grace waits to see if Kearson will volley the conversation back. She listens to the gurgle of the jets, the pulse of the music, the splashes and squeals of the other girls in the pool. Eventually, she peeks to see if Kearson is there. She is. Eyes still closed. Relaxing. So Grace closes hers again too and tries to do the same. This was a friendly enough start but there’s no rush. They have an entire season to warm up to each other.
“I’m sorry, Grace.”
Grace sits up. “For what?”
“I never thanked you for the cookies you made me last season.”
Quinn came up with the idea that the JV girls should each pick a varsity Wildcat and bake them a special championship treat on the last school day before the big game. The treats could go in pretty bags, or maybe an individual Tupperware container, but whatever it was should be decorated with the player’s last name and jersey number in cheery bubble letters. And include a handwritten note wishing them luck.
Almost immediately, the JV girls began to shout out the names of varsity players they wanted to bake for. The senior starters were picked first, claimed by the most popular girls. Grace was not given an option. Or rather, before she called out a name, it was suggested she take Kearson. None of Kearson’s friends apparently wanted her. They were jealous. And anyway, Grace heard whispers that Phoebe had been cleared to play, her recovery likely sped up by how badly Kearson sucked in the last two games.
But fine. Sure. Whatever.
Grace isn’t much of a baker, so she bought a roll of premade cookie dough. They came out of the oven looking okay, but Grace left them to cool on the baking sheet, and by the time she chipped them off, the bottoms were black.
She put the cookies in a bag on the Friday before the game. At first she didn’t bother including a handwritten note. It wasn’t like they were close. But before tucking them into Kearson’s locker, she ripped out a piece of notebook paper and quickly scribbled down a quote. Serena Williams.
A champion is defined not by their wins but by how they can recover when they fall.
“Oh. I’m glad you liked them.”
“Don’t get me wrong. They tasted awful. But I was really grateful.” Kearson smiles shyly. “So grateful that I ate them all anyway.”
“Well … that makes me happy and also sad. But mostly happy.”
Mel walks around the backyard addressing the different clusters of girls. Eventually she makes her way over to the hot tub and bends down. “Hey, it’s getting late. Coach wants lights-out by ten o’clock.”
Grace and Kearson lift themselves out of the water. Mel hands them their towels. They follow the rest of the team back into Mel’s house. The caterers have taken the food and serving dishes away. In the clean kitchen, the lights are off except for one over the sink and a scented candle flickering on the counter. Mel’s parents must have gone to bed.
The finished basement is cooler than any other room in the house, windowless and holding the central air. It’s borderline frigid. Grace breaks out in goose bumps as she peels off her bathing suit, changes into her Ramones T-shirt