One
Palmer
I'm having a shittypractice.
I know it. Theteamknows it. Worst of all,CoachArkhady knows it. This is mychanceto prove I'm ready tostartin theBaltimoreBattle‘s firstgameof theseasonagainst the Syracuse Warriors.TishaBaker, the team’sstartinggoalie and my mentor, had injured her knee pre-season, and thestartingposition is open. She's retiring at the end of theseason, and she'd recommended me as her replacement. Only if I keepplayinglike this, I'll be lucky they don't trade me. I can't bring myself to look over at the sidelines and see Tisha’s disappointment.
“C’mon, York,”CoachArkhady shouts.“Payattentionout there.”
I jerk my head in acknowledgment and take a defensive stance in the goal. We'replayinga half-fieldscrimmage meant to test the defense, with the attackerswearingblue pennies. As the play unfolds midfield with a successful defense, my mind once again drifts to last night’s humiliation. All I can see is Brennan's smarmy face telling me he's engaged, while his intended–who happens to be my cousin,Rania–sitsnext to him with a serene, Cheshire-cat smile.
A fresh wave of rage surges through me, distracting me from the play. I'm notquickenough to switch mystickto the other post and take ashotright to my thigh. Below the padded shorts, of course.
“Son of a?—”
“Sorry,Palmer,”Jewel says.
“My bad,"I groan, scooping the ball and flipping it to her.
Myteammatesreset at the centerline for the draw, one of the offensive coaches holding the mesh of their sticks together with the ball between them. He steps back and blows his whistle. The ball pops up and one of the attackers bats it out of the air toward Jewel.
“Clear your mind."I grip mystickwith both hands and crouch in front of the goal. Jewel runs toward me, dodging first one, then two defenders. She makes aquickpass to Allie, who performs her signature spin move, positioning her for a perfectshot.
“Crash!”I yell at the defense, but I'm a beat off and they don't move in time to stop Allie, who launches a perfectshotover my leftshoulder and into the net.
“Fuck.”I smack the post with mystick.
“All right, waterbreak,”one of the other coaches calls out. I take off my gloves and unclip my helmet, limping off thefield. I rub at the spot where Jewel'sshothit.
“That’s gonna be some bruise,”Tishasays, handing me a waterbottle.
I take it and squeeze the contents into my mouth, then slump onto the bench.“I deserve it. I suck out there.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”Tishaadjusts her knee brace.“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“But you will. Because it’s me.”Tishaflashes a too-largegrinand bats her thick false lashes, their glittery edges catching the sunlight. Ilaughin spite of myself.
“Brennanstopped by last night.”Recalling last night's confrontation made the water bitter.
"Please tell me he begged you to take him back and you kicked his sorryassto the curb,"Tishasays. She hadn't ever likedBrennan, but when he dumped me the day after New Year's four months ago, she'd gone full-on scorched earth when it came to him. I had to physically restrain her from pushing him off the balcony when he moved out of our apartment.
"Hah. Nothing so satisfying. No, he wanted to tell me to my face that he is getting married in August. He even brought his fiancée with him so they could tell me together."
"What kind of sadistic dick drip thinks it's appropriate to bring your future bride tomeetyour ex? Why would he think you'd give ashitwho or what he's marrying? That's some self-important bullshit right there."
I twist my lips."They didn't want me to hear about it from the rest of my family, since the woman he's marrying is–drumroll, please–my cousin,Rania."
Tisha's mouth drops open. I gesture at her face."Yeah, that was my reaction at first."
She slowly shakes her head."I'm stunned. What is wrong with your cousin?"
"Oh, plenty,"I snort."I mean, she's perfect on the surface. Literally, she's a beauty queen and graduatedtopof her class at Vassar, and is now some junior associate at a big deal financial firm. She's the daughter my parents wish they had."
"After this, I doubt your perfect little cousin will still be favored over you."
"You don't know my parents,"I grouse. I'm not exaggerating.Raniaand I are the same age, so my entire life has been one comparison after another, with me consistently falling short. Except for sports.Raniamay have been the more graceful dancer, but she could no more throw, kick, hit, or bat a ball than I could plié without falling over. Of course, in my parents' world, that still put her ahead of me since women in our social sphere didn't compete in men's games.
