be better if Coach cut her right then and there, a mercy kill. In fact, she was pretty sure he was about to do just that.
Coach ripped off his sunglasses and, gleaming white teeth bared, he growled, “Luci, do you think I give a shit if you’re sorry?” Reflexively, her mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. She nearly said sorry again, though thank God she had the wherewithal to swallow it. Still, Coach must have seen it bubbling up inside her, because he brought a finger close to her nose for a final warning. “The only thing I give a shit about is you getting your feet around the fucking ball! So get your feet around the fucking ball!”
She nodded.
“And next time I hear you say ‘sorry,’ I’m sending you back to play with the freshmen. Period.”
Luci answered, “Yes, Coach,” trying to mimic the unemotional way the other girls on the team answered him. But she was humiliated. On shaky legs, she jogged onto the field, and the girls circled up for a face-off. No one said anything to her, but they did all look her in the eye when they each tapped their stick blades on the ground, a signal that they were ready to resume play.
This time Luci got the cue. What else the stick tap meant. Just keep playing. Their way of silently supporting her. Telling her it was okay. No big deal.
Luci took a deep breath and tapped her stick back. Ready.
Whistle.
Surprisingly, the urge to cry had vanished. In fact, Coach’s directive seemed to free something in Luci that was already unleashed in her teammates. Yes, she still got shouted at for being in the wrong spot, for taking a shot when she should have passed, but it stopped stinging.
Luci also found it strangely liberating that none of the girls ever apologized to one another. They just worked harder. They grinned and bore it, the same way the women in Luci’s family did.
And honestly, Luci had already spent years overapologizing for stuff she shouldn’t have. For her mother not having the time to bake brownies for a stupid PTA bake sale. For why Luci was academically so far behind the West Essex kids in her grade, save for her Spanish class, obviously. For having a father who wrote checks but never birthday cards. In an instant, Coach’s directive helped her regain focus, helped her hurdle the sand trap of inadequacy and land someplace greener, more fertile.
Ready to go.
So Luci slides her phone into her hoodie pocket, reassured that she is doing the right thing, that it makes sense. That what Coach has asked of her fits right in with all the other nontraditional coaching methods he used on the team. After making sure the coast is clear, Luci wriggles back through the trash cans and onto the driveway.
She walks across the front lawn intending to finally go into the party. But then she sees Mel in the middle of the street a few houses down, all focus and control, completely oblivious to the rest of the world around her, batting a ball back and forth with a stick so fast, it becomes a blur of color.
There had been a fender bender in the middle of a scrimmage on the fourth day of tryouts. Someone in the high school parking lot—a newly licensed driver, no doubt—backed hard into another car, and the sickening explosion of metal on metal stopped the girls in their tracks, including Luci, the ball on her stick during a halfway decent run up the midfield.
Then, two more collisions, a chain reaction that began with Mel thrusting her body between Luci and the ball and ending with Luci flat on her back. Luci was slow to get up. She rolled to her side and pushed up onto her knees, pausing there to get her bearings. It wasn’t a hard hit. Luci just hadn’t seen it coming.
Down the field, Mel fired off a shot into the back of the net. Only then did she realize there was no goalie. She spun around and saw the other girls jogging off the field, calling out to make sure no one had been hurt as a plume of steam rose over the parking lot. Mel’s jaw fell slack, clueless as to what happened.
Luci approaches gingerly. “Hey, Mel.”
Mel glances up from the ball, but only briefly. “Hey, Luci. Why aren’t you inside?”
Luci shrugs. “I don’t really know anyone. Well, besides the girls.” She takes a seat on the