tucked her crutches under her arm and hopped into the bleachers to watch some of the boys varsity basketball home game while waiting for her ride. The stands were barely half-full, the school’s cheerleading squad had to beg for answers to their call-and-response chants.
Derek was a physical powerhouse in the first quarter, leaping for the rim, diving for a pass. By the second quarter, he was growing tired, slowing up. By the half, he resorted to using his brute strength as a cover for his lack of stamina. He fouled out before the end of the third quarter and was forced to watch from the bench as his teammates lost the game, a towel draped over his head, directly underneath the two field hockey championship banners Phoebe had helped earn. She snapped a couple of pictures on her phone, a bit of visual inspiration for her PT session. Wasn’t shy about it, either. She turned the flash on and everything.
Phoebe focuses now on securing the pi?ata and gives it a tap to make sure it will hold. The 2 swirls like a top, a golden blur no longer recognizable as a number.
Then she follows the sideline back to the rest of her stuff, at first walking, then moving into an easy jog. In a flash, Phoebe bursts into a sprint. She shouldn’t be doing this without her brace, and definitely not without her Knee Spanx, but fuck it. After a few meters, she stops on a dime, spins around, hustles backward at half speed, then spins and takes off again, racing all the way back, a huge smile on her face.
When she stops, Phoebe pulls up her knee and hugs it to her chest. It’s a tiny bit sore, but nothing Phoebe can’t handle. She’s played through way worse.
“Hey, looking good!”
It’s Mel, standing center field, fists on her hips. Mel’s been watching her. And she’s grinning. She might be as relieved as Phoebe herself that her knee is holding up.
Phoebe quickly deflects out of embarassment. “What do you think?” She gestures to the pi?ata. “Not bad, right?”
Mel gives her two thumbs-up. “MVP!” She threads her arm into Phoebe’s and leads her away from the girls at midfield and toward the deserted metal bleachers. “There’s something I want to run by you real quick,” Mel says coyly. “I came up with a brilliant plan for when we play Oak Knolls tomorrow.”
“Isn’t the plan just to win?”
Mel sits down on the bleachers and wets her lips. “Coach’s speech tonight got me thinking. I want to do more than just win. I want to make a statement. Set the tone for this season. Do something big to get our confidence back. For Coach, obviously, but also for the rest of the girls.” Leaning forward, she takes Phoebe’s hand and tugs her down, making Phoebe sit next to her. “And I want us to be the ones to do it, Phoebe.”
The backs of Phoebe’s legs feel clammy against the cold bleacher steel. “What do you have in mind?”
Mel stomps her feet, a giddy burst of metallic thunder. “Okay! So. You and I are going to make a run at the Oak Knolls goal with the kind of intensity we’d have if the clock were about to run out and it was our last chance to score. Except we’re going to do it immediately after the face-off.”
“Assuming you win the face-off,” Phoebe teases.
Mel swats her. “Please! I always win the face-off! Anyway. Instead of passing forward, I’m going to hook the ball sideways to you. Then you and I will sprint straight up the field, full throttle, crisscrossing passes as we go. I’m imagining three total, like boom boom boom, with your last one hitting me right at the top of the key. And then I’m going to fire off a shot as hard as I can, with everything I’ve got.”
Phoebe watches Mel’s eyes sparkle. Her chest rises and falls as if she actually completed the play she just described. It is no less exhilarating for Mel to imagine this game than to actually play it. “And this idea just came to you?”
“Yes. On the ride over. Why? Is that weird?”
Phoebe laughs. “Um, no. This is extremely on brand for you, Mel.”
Mel tucks her hands in the pockets of her varsity jacket. “Obviously, best-case scenario is I score right away.… But even if I don’t, then you and I will just go at them again, the very next time we get the ball. Again and