and the bike shorts, and grabs her toothbrush.
The fight for sink space becomes a little game. The girls, like sisters in a too-small house, box each other out to wash their faces and brush their teeth. Phoebe teases a junior for using kids’ toothpaste, which Grace defends, because she used the same kind and remembers it being hella delicious, and several girls commiserate that toothpaste companies don’t make fun flavors for adults. Ali rushes in, desperate to pee, no privacy needed, which prompts Phoebe to tell everyone a story about how, after getting stuck behind an accident on the highway, they forced the bus driver to pull over on the shoulder and the whole team lined up and peed in the weeds.
Mel suddenly barges in. “One of the girls on Oak Knolls just posted a video and tagged a bunch of us in the comments.”
Everyone is pretty pissed, but Phoebe is incensed. She spits, wipes her mouth with her arm. “You’re fucking kidding me.” She storms out.
“Who was it?” Ali shouts after them and rips off a piece of toilet paper so hard that it sends the roll spinning. “Who posted the video?”
The team gathers into the main room of the finished basement and crowds around Mel’s phone. A bunch of girls shout that they can’t see, so Mel shouts back, “Okay, okay,” and mirrors her phone to the television.
It’s Darlene Maguire’s page.
The room falls silent. Mel presses play.
First, music. A snippet of “Tomorrow” from the musical Annie.
Then a crudely edited slideshow. Pictures of newspaper articles, college acceptance letters. Then a video of championship game footage taken from the local cable channel broadcast and edited down into a Boomerang. Darlene scoring on Ali over and over and over again while Ali remains motionless.
Mel reaches out and gives Ali’s shoulder a tender squeeze. Ali doesn’t take her eyes off the television.
The video ends with the entire Oak Knolls team on their home field with the state championship trophy and a white bulldog.
Grace tunes into a whispered conversation behind her.
“I hate Oak Knolls but that bulldog is cute.”
“I heard their coach never lets him inside. Just trots him around at games like a prop.”
“Someone should call animal control. That’s cruel.”
Oak Knolls waves at the camera. At the Wildcats.
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow. You’re only a day away!
Mel quickly disconnects her phone before the video begins replaying.
“You okay?” Phoebe asks Ali.
“Yup,” Ali says too quick, too focused on unfurling her sleeping bag.
Phoebe isn’t quite buying Ali’s answer, but instead of pressing her, she turns to the rest of the girls and announces, “Tomorrow we’ll wipe those shit-eating grins off their faces.”
Two senior players open up the couch into a full-sized bed already made with sheets and tightly tucked blankets. They climb on and a third girl squeezes in the middle, but when a fourth tries to fit, she immediately slips off the end, which makes the whole room crack up laughing.
The rest of the girls unfurl their bedding—sleeping bags, comforters brought from home—onto the plush carpet.
Kearson waves Grace over. “Grace! There’s room over here!”
Mel tiptoes over the bodies, spare pillows tucked under each arm. “Did you forget a pillow, Grace?” She tosses one over.
Grace tries to hand it back. “This kind of hair dye sometimes rubs off.”
“It’s fine. My mom has a million pillowcases.”
She takes her dress and wraps it over top of the pillow, just in case.
At two minutes before ten Mel turns off the lights. Grace wonders if Mel will sleep upstairs in her own bed. But no, she finds space next to Phoebe.
A comedic round of “Good night” goes from head to head to head. Lots of giggles at first, then a bit of shushing.
Grace settles into her spot in the corner. The AC vent is nearby, with its whispers of cold wind. It’s crazy to think of all that crammed into a single day, both physically and emotionally. Grace lets her head sink into the pillow.
Just as she hoped, Grace has finally found her place. Her people. Her pack.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 27
12:00 A.M.
LUCI
Someone’s alarm. The terrible one that sounds like a submarine is sinking.
Luci lifts her head and blinks away the bleariness. Some of the girls are up and already dressed. The older girls. Is it morning? Already? It doesn’t feel like she was sleeping long.
Across the room, Phoebe flicks the basement lights on and off.
“What’s going on?” Luci whispers to no one in particular.
She both does and doesn’t know.
Suddenly, Mel is standing over her, clapping her hands. She’s