Kai waves. “Good luck.”
I close the car door and Milo steps around to my side as Kai backs out of the parking space.
“Do you want me to stick around?” Milo asks, gripping the straps of his backpack. “I don’t mind.”
“I can’t even imagine what these girls will say to me. It makes me sick to my stomach.” I step in close, clasping his wrist. “You make me calm. It’d be nice to see you on the sidelines.”
An ecstatic grin springs to life on his face. “Excellent. Then I’ll stay.”
I leave him for the girls’ locker room, and the moment of happiness is squashed by the imminent dread. Necks crack and heads whip in my direction. The tension is palpable and I hear every backpack zipper, every shoelace curl, and every stroke from hairbrushes.
I dump my belongings, grab my water bottle, shin guards, and mouth guard, and hightail it out of there.
When Coach has us run laps, angered stares point in my direction. Throughout stretches, I hear harsh whispers and notice nudges in my direction. This is torture. When they finally spit it out, it’ll be as a united group and I’ll be a yammering, incoherent mess.
“Coach,” Hayley says with an aggravated tone. “Why is Jamie here? She missed our game. Aren’t there supposed to be consequences?”
“Don’t you worry about Jamie,” Coach replies calmly. “She’d already organized with me to not be at the game.”
Dominica huffs, slamming her hands on her hips. “Talk about preferential treatment.”
“Did someone die?” Hayley asks, her short fuse about to burst. She gestures at Dominica. “Isn’t that the only valid excuse?”
“Or is it more homework she slacked off on?” Dominica accuses. “We all shouldn’t be punished because she let her workload pile up.”
Coach gives a wry smile. “Are you saying the only way the team can win games is if Jamie shows up?”
A twinkle of pride eases the tension camping in my shoulders.
Leah snorts. “Isn’t the optimal wordteam?”
Coach pans across everyone in the team. “This is exactly the problem. Everyone has sat back and let Jamie put in the effort on game days. With her absence, you fell apart. I need you girls to step it up.”
Scowls and mutterings pass around the group. Contempt flashes my way, sinking me into the ground.
Coach claps at the group. “No more excuses. We’re putting in five times the effort at practices this week. Now, line up for drills.”
My shoulders slump and my back hunches as I drag myself into the line-up. For fear of Coach hearing them, no one is exceptionally vocal about their feelings. Although, via coughs and sneezes, I hear the words, “traitor,” “favoritism,” and “unfair,” thrown around.
I nail the drills as I cycle through the loop, but my heart’s not in it. Coach is too busy focusing on the other girls to notice my sullen mood. When I backtrack to the sidelines to grab my water bottle, Milo’s concerned expression makes it easy to see he hasn’t missed a beat.
“What’s going on?” Milo asks.
My shoulders bunch high. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like something has sucked your confidence away,” Milo replies. “I don’t get it. When you were hanging out with my friends, you owned the table. Heck, John and Ryan were basically scared of you.”
I bat my hand. “Hanging with boys is easy.”
“Why is it harder with girls?” Milo smirks and shakes his head. “I mean, I get why girls are stressful. The mean comments can fly pretty easily, especially when they’re in a gang.”
I scoff and motion to the field behind me. “Then why are you asking?”
“But you hold your own around boys,” Milo says. “You’re usually so cool and confident. I don’t get why other girls shatter your persona.”
I chug from my water bottle and then toss it onto the ground. “It’s just the way it is.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hassle you about it.”
