at the January bonfire.
Sitting behind him at a drunk driving assembly before Junior Formal. How tanned the back of his neck was.
Had Gordy gone to Junior Formal?
With someone?
Over the rest of June and practically all of July, Mel and Gordy went on hikes nearly every day. If Mel had a summer league game, she’d meet with him afterward and do something small, an easy loop. Other days, when she didn’t have a game, they’d tackle more ambitious trails. Steeper climbs with bigger rewards. She liked how easy Gordy was to plan things with. Never a firm schedule, always up for whatever, happy to detour, never embarrassed if he took a wrong turn, if he lost his footing. They’d conquered every trail in county park several times over, and so sometimes they’d drive an hour or two for a new route. She liked those long trips. They never ran out of things to talk about. They actually had to stop themselves from talking to make out.
Mel had Gordy pegged as a loner, maybe because of his skateboarding days, but Gordy always said hello to the people they passed on their hikes, stopped and pet their dogs. He had lots of friends in different towns besides West Essex. Kids he rode mountain bikes with, kids he snowboarded with, kids he kayaked with. His life seemed so much bigger than Mel’s, so many facets.
During the week Gordy went with his family to visit his half sister in Maine, Mel hiked alone. Most days she did the Frick trail and spent hours at the vista, looking out across the valley. She’d think about what senior year might be like if Coach didn’t come back to West Essex. What it would feel like to walk down the hallway on the first day of school holding Gordy’s hand. Going on hikes with Gordy in the fall, when the leaves would be turning. If Truman didn’t come through, where she might want to go to college. These daydreams, though not unpleasant, still felt to Mel like an upside-down world, an alternate universe. Something abstract to consider, like what her life might be like if she were born a boy.
The email finally came in late June. An invitation from Truman to attend a weekend of practices at the university.
Mel’s first thought was to tell Coach.
It had been weeks since she felt a rush for him and the quick surge of adrenaline made her a teensy bit nauseous. Instead of texting, she decided to forward the email to Coach’s West Essex address, even though it was summer and she doubted he was checking it. She included a quick note. Thank you for everything you’ve done to get me to this point. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Truman was still her number one choice. She might have a shot at getting in on academics alone, but it was slim. Her GPA was solid, her SATs respectable. But she’d had only two AP classes this term. And her extracurriculars outside of field hockey were weak. Playing at her level didn’t leave time for much else.
Mel put the practice weekend on the family calendar in pen. It would happen in July during her Kissawa week. She wanted to tell Phoebe but it felt almost cruel. So she decided to wait, especially because it wasn’t an offer or anything. But Mel was excited to tell Gordy. Even though she had plans to see him later, she called him right away. He was thrilled for her, and later, surprised her with a dinner picnic of some prepared foods he’d gotten from the fancy grocery store in town. They ate at the lookout on the Frick trail.
As Gordy set up their spread, Mel felt her phone buzz.
COACH: What’s with the email? Did you forget my number?
MEL: Sorry. Didn’t want to bother you.
COACH: Shut up, Mel.
COACH:
COACH: Keep me posted.
It was the first kindness he’d shown her since the championship loss.
“More good news?” Gordy said, uncapping a bottle of lemonade.
Mel slipped her phone into her back pocket. “Maybe.”
Both her mother and father traveled to Truman with her, all upgraded to first class on her father’s airline points. He charmed the ticketing agents into letting Mel bring her stick on board, likening it to a classical musician’s professional instrument. It was stored with the men’s suit jackets in the little closet near the flight attendants’ service kitchen.
Mel’s parents had booked a hotel near the campus, and after a tour with the admissions office, they spent the rest