three goals on each side.
“Next point is game,” Mel announces. “We still have one more verse to do!”
After a face-off, Kearson grabs the ball, spins, and fires a pass over to Luci. It lands right on her stick. They could make a good twosome, Kearson thinks.
But the action stops like a freeze-frame.
“Shit,” Luci says, and drops her stick.
Kearson spins around and sees Phoebe is down on the floor, holding her knee.
The rest of the team rushes over. All except Kearson. She can’t move.
Mel kneels down and tries to tend to Phoebe. “I told you not to play without your brace! I mean, haven’t you learned your lesson?”
Even in the low light, Kearson can tell Phoebe is bright red, but Kearson’s not sure if it is from embarrassment or anger. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Phoebe tries to stand. A few girls reach down to lend a hand, but Phoebe refuses. It’s as painful to watch as what Phoebe must be feeling. How much effort she requires to get to her feet.
“You don’t look fine!” Mel grabs her hair in two fists and pulls hard. “Coach is going to kill us.”
“Just take the picture.” Phoebe hobbles across the gym, unable to put any real weight on her knee, until she’s underneath the empty banner space. “Hello! Someone take a fucking picture so we can get out of here!”
So they gather together with their borrowed sticks and pose underneath the spot where this year’s banner would be hung. Five minutes ago, they could all see it. Now no one can bring themselves to look up, least of all Kearson.
SATURDAY, AUGUST 27
3:06 A.M.
COACH: Luci
COACH: Luci
COACH: Luci
LUCI: Sorry.
COACH: You girls better not still be at Mel’s boyfriend’s house.
LUCI: No. We left a while ago.
LUCI: Also they aren’t seeing each other anymore.
LUCI: Mel told me herself.
COACH:
COACH: Whatever.
COACH: Where are you? What’s happening?
LUCI: We’re waiting outside the high school. We snuck inside to take a team picture.
COACH: Waiting for what?
LUCI: Mel and Phoebe are still inside.
COACH: Doing … ?
COACH: Luci.
LUCI: You should probably ask Mel.
COACH:
COACH: Why would I need to ask Mel when I’m asking you?
COACH: You’re my eyes and ears, remember?
LUCI: Yes.
LUCI: I think they’re getting ice. Phoebe might have hurt her knee.
COACH: Are you kidding me?
COACH: Tell me that you’re fucking kidding me.
COACH: Luci
COACH: LUCI
SATURDAY, AUGUST 27
3:08 A.M.
MEL
The girls quickly collected their things, returned the sticks to the equipment cabinet, and hustled out of the gym and back to the athletic director’s office. But Mel and Phoebe are still in the gym together.
Using a field hockey stick for balance, Phoebe wobbles on her good leg while testing how much weight she can bear on her re-injured one. Her teeth are clenched, and she sucks air through them in painful gasps each time she sets her tiptoes briefly on the floor, wincing, but her lack of success—of even a glimmer of improvement—doesn’t prevent her from trying again and again and again, hoping for a different result.
Mel—helpless and heartbroken—stands watching.
“Phoebe …”
“I’m fine.”
“Please, Phoebe. I—”
“Mel!” Phoebe pauses, momentarily shocked by her own volume. She pulls her ponytail tight. It’s started to slip out. When she speaks again, her voice is softer but no less urgent. “Just … give me a second. Please.”
Mel folds her arms tight across her chest.
A good friend would do no such thing.
A good friend would say, “No, Phoebe, you’re clearly not fine.”
A good friend would say, “I’m calling your mom.”
A good friend would say, “I’m driving you straight to the ER.”
Which is why Mel’s just as furious with herself as she is with Phoebe right now. Mel’s not a bad friend, but that’s what this whole mess has turned her into. That’s who Phoebe keeps pressuring her to be.
Mel barely slept the night before Phoebe’s ACL surgery and was wide awake at 5:00 a.m., right around the time Phoebe and her parents would have been en route. Even though the girls had texted plenty the previous evening, Mel couldn’t help but send one last bit of encouragement Phoebe’s way.
MEL: Good Luck!
MEL: You’re the strongest and toughest girl I know!
MEL: You’ve got this!
PHOEBS: I can’t believe you’re awake.
MEL: I was too nervous to sleep.
PHOEBS: Lol meanwhile my mom slept through her alarm
MEL:
MEL: Make sure she texts me the second you’re out of surgery.
PHOEBS: K.
MEL: And I’m coming straight over after my club game.
PHOEBS: Thanks for being such a good friend.
PHOEBS: See you later!
PHOEBS: Or, if not, I’ll see you on the other side!
MEL: OMG I HATE YOU!
PHOEBS:
Phoebe talked about her surgery like it was no