“Fair.” I’ll give them my other name options later. I’m too winded from that conditioning session from hell. Off-season is in full swing, and Coach Sumner is a big fan of cardio.
“Hey! My cousin’s name is Melanie,” Jo, our right midfielder, says between drinks of Gatorade.
“Exactly. She’s an actual nightmare, and you know it,” Adri counters.
I hold my hand up. “If we’re talking about mean girl names, I think Adrienne is pretty high on the list.”
“Agreed,” Shay and Jo say together.
Adri bats her eyes innocently, but little horns replace her halo when she pops our thighs with a towel.
The stitch in my side resurfaces, but from laughter instead of burpees. Even though Jo and Adri are sophomores, they round out The Quartet. I can always count on these three to turn my days around.
Ending our too short break, Coach Sumner yells my name from the water cooler and points at the goal. I pull Shay up with a grunt, grab my goalkeeper gloves, and head to my home. Every day at the end of practice, the team lines up to take their best shot on goal, while I analyze and perfect my craft. Reading their eyes. Following their body language. Dissecting their approach. Covering all twenty-four by eight feet of the goal. Reacting not too early, but not too late.
It’s a science.
“Mally!” a cheery voice calls out.
Once in the goal box, I turn to find Bex, the athletic department’s registered dietitian, jogging toward me. As much as I adore the woman, her presence is never a good sign.
“Hey, Bex.” I slide on my gloves. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She leans against the goal and sucks in air. “Michaela said you’re on edge today. More than usual, which is worrisome. I think we all expected the next step to be off the cliff and into the abyss.”
I drag a gloved fingertip across my neck at Michaela, the soccer team’s athletic trainer, who gives herself a high-five.
“Don’t be mad. I texted her first.” Bex’s face transforms from friend to dietitian-friend. “What’s going on? You’ve got major stress waves radiating off you. I can’t tell if your hair is extra poofy from that or the humidity.”
I might as well be wearing a neon sign that saysI’m totally NOT okay!
Slapping on a fake smile, I force my tone to stay casual. “Coach Sumner won’t be happy with precious practice time being used to talk.”
As expected, Bex sees right through my excuse. Holding five fingers up to Coach Sumner, she gets the approval she needs and stares at me. “Is it your mom?”
Shit. Am I that easy to read?
Word vomit crawls up my throat and I’m suddenly relieved to let it out. “Of course it is. We fought all break, Bex. Over the stupidest things too. I wanted ice cream, and she asked me if I thought it was a good idea. Five times. I went for a run, and she accused me of prioritizing soccer over my health. And she keeps texting screenshots of my blood sugar, as if I’m not getting the same notifications.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Bex says. “You’ve been doing so well—”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “Don’t patronize me, please. I’m not a child who needs to be soothed with lies.”
She winces, and I regret the words immediately. High emotions don’t mean I can go off on people for no reason. Especially when all she’s trying to do is help.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just don’t feel like I’m doing well, so how can you be so sure that I am?”
Bex’s face softens, her never-ending patience making me feel even guiltier. “I’m sure because I knowyou. There’s nothing you half-ass. That word isn’t even in your vocabulary. Your data keeps getting better and better.” When she opens the app that rules my life, my stomach rolls instinctively. My blood sugar level pops up, and I have to look away.
“Speaking of numbers,” she continues, “are you still happy with your game plan?”
I give her aso-sohand movement.
“It’s okay for plans to change, you know? We could circle back on our insulin pump discussion.”
That’s the last thing I need right now. I’m tired of change. To me, change and failure are the same, and I’m not sure how much more I can handle before I break.
“I’m thinking about it,” I lie through my teeth.
