regroup. He said we should swing by tonight if we were bored.”
“We aren’t bored,” Mel says pointedly, ignoring the excited smiles of her teammates. “We’re having the time of our lives.” She’s annoyed that Gordy told Phoebe he was having people over too. Was it because he knew she wouldn’t come? “It’s probably dying down anyway by now.”
“Doubt it. It’s the last party of summer, Mel.” Phoebe squirms to keep Buddy’s tongue from licking her face. “I just figured you’d want to go.”
“I don’t not want to go.” Mel sighs. “But we need to stay focused. It won’t have the same impact if we send Coach the picture for the next verse an hour later.” Mel glances at her phone to make sure her first text went through. It hasn’t. She’s got only one bar. “Ugh. I’m getting horrible reception.”
Phoebe passes Buddy to one of the new girls and leans into Mel’s ear. “Did something happen between you and Gordy?”
“No.”
“Okay. Good. Then it’s no big deal to swing by, so long as we just make it quick? We can just run in, say hi to some people, make our plan. Then we’re out.”
Honestly? It isn’t a big deal. Not the way Mel’s feeling right now. With a certainty that Gordy was a rebound hookup Mel never wanted in the first place. In fact, it might actually be a good thing to make an appearance. She’ll stay close to the pack, show Gordy her team is all she cares about now. He’ll have to take the hint.
“Fine. We can stop by Gordy’s for fifteen minutes.” Mel tosses her keys to Phoebe. “You drive. I need to make sure this text to Coach goes through.”
Mel gets enough signal as they merge back on the highway. While waiting for Coach’s response, she scrolls through some of their past conversations.
COACH: I shouldn’t tell you this but a scout from Truman will be at today’s game.
COACH: TO SEE YOU SPECIFICALLY!
This is from early November of last year. Mel bites down on her smile. It’s a favorite.
She immediately raised her hand and asked Ms. Mondadori for the bathroom pass, then hurried straight to Coach’s classroom. He must have been expecting her, because as soon as Mel stood on her tiptoes and squared her head in the chicken-wire glass window of his classroom door, Coach excused himself from his students and met her out in the hallway.
Coach had been talking up Truman to Mel since her freshman season. At first it was the kind of pitch you’d find in any college catalog. Truman was a storied university, not quite Ivy League, but still with an excellent reputation for humanities. Their field hockey team produced nationally ranked players, many of whom, like Coach, went directly into the Olympic pipeline. But as they grew closer, Coach shared more personal stories with her about his time there. What his different dorm rooms were like, interesting classes he took, crazy stuff he and his teammates used to do. He loved telling her about his college days as much as Mel loved hearing about them. It really brought the school to life for her. By her junior year, Truman was Mel’s top pick.
Which is why she was practically hyperventilating. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me. I don’t know how I’m going to relax.”
It was Coach’s policy never to share scouting information with the girls. Mel suspected there’d been scouts at previous games that season, but Coach kept it close to his vest. It made her heart swell that he was breaking his own rules for her. She was a special exception.
“I’ve trained you for this, Mel.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Trust me. You’re ready.”
He was calming. He could be that sometimes. Another teacher walked past them. Coach pulled his hand back. They both got quiet, shared a goofy smile, and didn’t speak again until she passed.
“Just do me a favor and don’t mention this to Phoebe. I want to give you both the best chance at playing together at Truman next year. If Phoebe’s rattled, neither of you will get to shine.”
Mel played brilliantly. Three goals, all assisted by Phoebe, which was great news for her, too. It was so hard not to tell Phoebe how well they both performed for the Truman scout. Mel managed to keep her lips sealed. Her only slip—if you could even call it that—happened during the final goal they scored together.
It was such a thing of beauty, the only two players in