Page 75 of Home Game

“We’ll be selling something, so no, I should stay with the booth,” I say, meeting my friend’s eyes with a brief warning in my gaze.

“Actually, I’m glad you brought this up, Lexi. And thank you, Peyton, for your willingness to put the team first. I know that was hard for you,” our coach says.

I nod and give her a tight-lipped smile, but given she’s sitting closer to Stephanie, it’s impossible not to see her reaction to our conversation. Her gaze up and to the side, she shakes her head and huffs audibly.

“And Stephanie,” I say, deciding I can’t let this fester. Coach is right. I need to put the team first. And if Stephanie’s opinion truly doesn’t matter to me, then I shouldn’t give it weight.

“Yeah,” she says, her tone flat.

“I’m sorry I took my hurt ego out on you. That wasn’t fair.” The bullshit coming out of my mouth makes me a little sick, but I swallow it down.

“Gee, thank you, Peyton . . . for being so selfless.”

I lock on to Stephanie’s stare, my mouth fighting to stay shut while everything I probably should say boils up my throat. Finally, I end it, and simply say, “You’re welcome.”

A few of the younger girls snicker, maybe understanding the sarcastic undertone in my response. It seems to be enough to end this war for now as my new nemesis has nothing else to say.There won’t be any love lost between me and Stephanie. But I can share a mat with her for six more weeks. If she thinks I’m putting her on the squad for basketball games, she’s delusional.

Coach urges us to focus on our fundraiser, and after a few product sales ideas that get lukewarm receptions, I throw the idea of hosting a dunk tank into the mix.

“Look, I bet I can get my dad to take a turn, and if we all take turns sitting in the hot seat, I think we could raise a ton of money,” I argue.

“Yeah, people would pay huge money to dunk your ass,” Tasha teases, nudging me and glancing toward Stephanie. I level her with the same warning look I gave Lexi, but Tasha is immune to my scolding.

“We could sell it asdunking daddy’s girl,” she says, laughing out hard and fast.

“Tasha . . .” Coach admonishes her, but then I decide she might be on to something, and wave my hand in the air to cut her off.

“No, wait. Actually, that’s a really good idea. I know Tasha is joking, but seriously, why not? I don’t care what people say about me. At least, not for this. And if it taps into some itch people need to scratch, and we can sell them three softball tosses for twenty bucks? Call me daddy’s girl all you want. I am. I’m a daddy’s girl. Kinda proud of it.” I meet Stephanie’s eyes again, a renewed confidence lifting me up, making me sit a little taller.

“Yeah, and Stephanie can be the bi?—”

“No,” I stop Tasha, squinting my eyes and holding my breath.

But suddenly, the strangest thing happens. Stephanie’s lip inches up, and her gaze moves to the center of our circle while she seems to be playing that concept out in her head.

“I’ll be the bitch,” she finally says.

“Really?” I ask.

She lifts her gaze, and for a blip, I think maybe there’s an apology buried in there.

“Yeah, I can play that role.” She shrugs.

“Great!” I say, clapping my hands together, holding in my urge to snarkily add,It’s not a role as much as a character trait.

“I guess I’m the bully,” Tasha laughs out.

“Yeah, you are,” Lexi teases, and the entire squad laughs.

“This is good,” Coach says, building on the idea with ways we can spin it to talk about ditching those stereotypes and embracing positivity. It’s a stretch, but I get that she needs the school board to sign off on it. I say we go for it and ask for forgiveness after. It’s not like the school board has given a damn about bullying in the past, so why give them credit now.

After an hour of planning, Coach manages to make a few calls to secure two donated dunking booths for us, and we’ve managed to make up nicknames for every member of our team, saving Lexi,the Queen,for last. The coldness between Stephanie and me is still there, but it’s definitely melted a tad. I don’t expect much more.

I break us down, just as I have every day except for Monday when Tasha took the lead. Everyone piles into the locker room to change out from our spankies and into our Coolidge Bears sweats and hoodies. I’m thankful for the shift to a real, actual fall. But I’m more thankful for these new team sweats now that I’ll be sticking around for football practice to end so I can ride home with my dad.

We should get the Jeep back this weekend. My dad opted to have his restoration guy do some extra work on it to make it safer for me to take to whatever school I decide on for next year. It’s pretty clear, though, where his hopes lie as he keeps mentioning how tuning up the rear-wheel differential and replacing the shocks will make it easy for me to navigate some of the off-road trails in Tucson. Where he went.

Where Wyatt is probably going to go.

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