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backup goalie? What happens if she gets hurt? Given that we only have thirteen girls, we’ll be in a rough spot if anyone is injured.
    “What’s your name?” I call out to the girl with the colorful socks.
    “Sydney.”
    “I’m Taylor.”
    “I know.” She gives me a nervous smile.
    Coach blows the whistle. The other team kicks off, and I streak forward to engage them. Nicole steals the ball and dribbles straight toward the goal. Their defense chases after her. She darts left, then right, and shoots. The goalie doesn’t stand a chance. The ball sails into the upper right corner of the net.
    “Woo!” Nicole yells, then accepts high fives from the other players on our team. I look at the goalie. She slaps the goalpost, looking humiliated. I’ll talk to her after practice , I think, to tell her Nicole is a formidable opponent and any goalie would have an issue defending against her.
    After we get back into position, the other team kicks off. Nicole immediately steals the ball and scores again. Okay, I can handle her doing that twice, but after she does it a third time, I totally snap.
    “C’mon, Nicole!” I shout. “Pass the ball. The rest of us need to practice too.”
    Everyone stops.
    Nicole storms my way and hovers over me. “What did you say?”
    “I said pass the ball.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see the shocked expression on the girls’ faces. A few are laughing, but most just glare at me. I don’t regret yelling at Nicole, but it’s not the best start with the team.
    “Get back on defense,” Nicole barks, then jogs to her position.
    I glance over at Coach Walker. He’s shaking his head, looking distressed. When he offered me a spot on the team, I bet he didn’t think I’d be this vocal. But I have a lot riding on this team.
    My future…my spirit.
    • • •
    I run on my own after practice.
    Doesn’t Coach Walker understand that if we don’t run at least three to four miles a day, our team won’t have the endurance to last an entire game, much less win one? Today’s practice consisted of a half-hour scrimmage during which Nicole showed off and everyone else chased the ball around like kindergartners. Whenever I rushed for the ball, Nicole went out of her way to boot it out of bounds. Some team player.
    After practice, I tried to share a few words with the goalie, Alyson, to encourage her, but she told me to mind my own business.
    Hopefully, our game on Saturday will go better.
    I run up Spring Hill, down Spring Hill, past the crumbling flour mill that closed ten years ago, around the sheriff’s station, avoid looking at the cemetery because it scares me, and go back out into the country.
    Running reminds me of how Ben and I used to jog before dinner sometimes, him training for basketball and me for soccer. We enjoyed being alone together—away from our classmates, who unfairly judged him.
    He had a hard time at St. Andrew’s. Beastly Buick aside, my classmates knew my father is wealthy, so they treated me like one of their own. But nearly every day, some asshole would make a crack like, “You’re really into dating down, huh, Lukens? You must like ’em on their knees.”
    I speed up. Run faster. Harder. Run, run, run. Forget, forget, forget.
    When I reach my driveway, I sprint the quarter mile to my house. I dart up the back porch stairs, then lean over onto my knees, panting hard. Air is all I need, all I want. I feel good, and I grin.
    Once I’ve caught my breath, I open the back door, and I’m heading for the stairs to my room when I hear voices in the formal living room. His voice. All the air whooshes back out of my body.
    I enter the living room to find Mom talking to Ezra.
    He stands when he sees me, ever the gentleman. After a long moment of us staring at each other, Mom breaks the silence. “Taylor, isn’t it nice that Ezra stopped by?”
    I swallow hard as I look into his green eyes. He’s changed clothes since I saw him earlier. Instead of jeans and a T-shirt,