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get through and she couldn’t be wallowing now.
    The door behind her squeaked open and Miller walked out, clutching his tray. His eyes, as always, were riveted on the ground. He made a beeline for the table at the back-right corner of the courtyard, placed his tray down, and sat. He pulled a portable radio out of his black backpack and slipped the headphones over his ears. He happened to look up and saw Megan watching him. For a split second, neither of them moved.
    â€œHi, Miller,” Megan said finally.
    â€œThe Yankees are playing their hundred and thirty-fifth game of the season,” he replied. Then he flipped a switch and Megan heard the tinny voice of an announcer come to life. He set the radio on the table and went about seasoning his bowl of soup with the plastic salt- and pepper shakers on the table. Megan noticed that his soda can, his bottle of juice, and his snack pack were lined up on his tray in height order. He moved the snack pack over, placed the salt- and pepper shakers between it and the juice bottle, and sat back, satisfied.
    TooDamn-Funky: what do u mean funky stuff going on down there??? u cant just say that & not xplain!!!
    Kicker5525: OMG This morning Evan woke up and came out of his room with his boxers gaping right open. His cartoon frog boxers.
    TooDamn-Funky: OH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! u didn’t actually c skin, did u?
    Kicker5525: OH GOD! No! I didn’t look.
    TooDamn-Funky: hey! u live in testosteroneville now. get used to it!

Three
    The soccer team was gathered on the bleachers when Megan approached. The coach—a tall, muscular woman with short dark hair—had her back to Megan as she spoke with the team. It was a long walk across the field to join them and by the time Megan got there, every one of the players was watching her. She dropped her bag on the bottom step and the coach stopped mid-sentence.
    â€œYou must be the new girl I’ve heard so much about,” she said, glancing down at Megan’s dirty cleats.
    â€œI guess,” Megan said. Apparently she had been right to assume that some of her future teammates would spot her cleats in the hall. “I’m Megan Meade.”
    â€œCoach Leonard,” she responded. “What position do you play, Megan?”
    â€œCenter forward,” Megan replied.
    Someone blurted a laugh that was followed by a round of others. The whispering that had begun on her arrival intensified and a couple of the girls shook their heads in obvious pity. The coach, however, seemed unfazed.
    â€œAll right,” she said with a nod. “Girls, why don’t we scrimmage and see what Megan can do? Tina, you sit this one out.”
    Tina, the redheaded girl who had smiled at Megan that morning, grimaced and sat back in her seat while most of the other girls climbed to the ground. She handed Megan a balled-up red vest, which Megan quickly pulled on over her T-shirt.
    â€œThanks,” Megan said.
    â€œYeah. Break a leg,” Tina said sarcastically. So much for that smile.
    Megan jogged out to the field and joined the other red shirts on the west side. She greeted the girls on the line and a couple reached out to slap hands with her, but no names were exchanged. Once they got on the field, these girls were all business. Megan liked that.
    Coach walked out to midfield with a soccer ball and stepped in between Megan and the opposing center forward. The other girl was tall and tan with broad shoulders, a lean waist, and killer legs. Her blond hair had been highlighted and was pulled into a thick ponytail. She was wearing a little bit too much makeup, but Megan could tell by the fierce look in her eyes that the girl was no Barbie. This was going to be interesting.
    The ball dropped, the whistle blew, and it was game on. Megan quickly got control of the ball and started upfield. She passed to the girl on her right and ran ahead, zooming past her first defender, who actually tripped herself up trying to change direction. The