app on her phone. But she would never send them. She knew, somehow, that no good would come of it. Instead, she respected his space, tried to give him room to cool off. But really, she was stupidly eager to barehand what was surely still searing hot.
Knowing she’d have the opportunity, she dressed up that morning. Disregarding the below freezing temps, Mel wore a corduroy miniskirt with bare legs, a cropped Fair Isle sweater, cable-knit knee highs, and riding boots.
He wasn’t in his classroom. Or the cafeteria. She was on her way down to the gym when she bumped into him walking out of the teachers’ lounge. He seemed surprised to see her.
“Hey, Mel.”
“Phoebe’s out of surgery. Everything looks good.”
“I heard. Her mother just texted me.”
Oh. Well, of course. “A bunch of us are planning to go over tonight. A little personal Psych-Up.”
Another teacher pushed out, accidentally hitting Mel square in the butt with the door. Mel was so embarrassed she didn’t register who it was. But thinking about it now, she remembers.
Miss Candurra.
After Miss Candurra passed, Coach cleared his throat. “I have some news. I landed a gig with the Junior Men’s National Team. I’m going to be their strength-and-conditioning coach. It’s a temporary position for the summer, but they are looking to hire someone on full-time.”
Her last-ditch hope, of course, was that good news from Truman would eventually come for her and help smooth things over between them. Then Coach would get hired at Trident, and she’d graduate high school, and they could reconnect and start over.
But in a little more than four weeks, he’d landed an amazing opportunity. He’d be traveling the world this summer. Coach had shifted his sights to bigger and better things.
She lowered her head and her throat got tight. “That’s great.”
Perhaps he sensed Mel was about to cry, because he quickly said, “You should probably get back to class. You don’t have a hall pass and I don’t want to get in trouble for not writing you up.”
The girls ended up at Phoebe’s house that evening. They brought flowers, balloons, pizza. It was the first time the Wildcats had gotten together as a team after the loss. Mel swallowed the news Coach had told her. They’d all hear about his new job eventually. She didn’t want to bring anyone down. And she wasn’t even sure she could get it out without bursting into tears.
The team reunion was short-lived.
Phoebe was obviously in a lot of pain, and for it to show on her face meant it had to be excruciating. Phoebe stayed very quiet. Didn’t make jokes. Didn’t initiate conversation. Mel could tell Phoebe was scared. The girls stayed for maybe twenty minutes.
Phoebe missed the next two weeks of school. Mel brought her homework every day after spring club practice. She could tell Phoebe was going stir-crazy. She was also rapidly losing weight.
“All my muscle is wasting away here on this couch. And my pain pills make me nauseous. I can’t keep anything down.”
“Can you switch to Advil or something?”
“I tried. But unless I take the strong stuff, the pain is so bad that I can’t sleep.”
“Have you talked to Coach? Maybe he could give you some advice.”
“I haven’t heard from him. And I don’t want to. Not when I’m in this bad of shape.” She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t even like you seeing me this way.”
Back in school, on crutches, Phoebe was always irritable. Then she got put into a big walking brace, which was so ugly, but allowed her to finally put weight on her knee. Once she began physical therapy, Mel saw a shift in Phoebe’s emotions. Her depression lifted. She was back to being fiercely determined.
On Presidents’ Day, Mel came over and found Phoebe doing exercises in her room. She was red-faced, pushing hard. Her body trembled with exertion.
“Wait. I thought you already had a PT appointment today.”
“I did. I’m doubling up.”
“Phoebe, is that really a good idea?”
“I already have my parents breathing down my neck. I don’t need it from you, too.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
About a week later, in early March, Mel was in third-period English when she looked up and saw Phoebe beckoning her out to the hallway. Something was wrong. Mel could see it in Phoebe’s face. Mel raised her hand and didn’t wait to be called on, interrupting Mrs. Sandoz, who was reading aloud a passage from Little Women.
When Mel stepped into the hallway, Phoebe was nowhere to be seen. Mel whispered, “Phoebs!”