Page 85 of Goalie Lessons

“Astrid,” she says, “Grayson looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“Don’t do this stupid wall thing with me today,” she says, sounding more annoyed than angry. “Can you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Wallthing?” I ask, wheeling my suitcase over to the side and taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Yeah,” she sounds exasperated. “The thing you do where you try to put up walls, keep me out. Then you realize I’ve already broken them down like a million times and you give up.”

I wasn’t aware I did awall thingwith Sloane, but now it makes sense why we’re close. She’s the only person I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me pretend to be someone else around her.

“So, what’s going on?” Sloane asks. “With you and Grayson.”

Lowering my voice, so nobody in the lobby can hear me, I say, “Sloane, he told me that heloves me.”

The words send a strange shiver over my body, a strange weight settling on my shoulders. For a brief moment, I feel worse than I did last night.

Then, my best friend laughs.

“Are you…laughing at me?” I scoff.

“Of course he’s in love with you,” Sloane says. “You’reyou, Astrid. I’m surprised there aren’t more people falling in love with you.”

“I…” My voice trails away. I have nothing to say to that.

“And what’s the big deal?” Sloane goes on. “I’veseenthe way you look at him. Maybe you’re doing a good enough job pretending with everyone else, and yourself, but not me.”

“I can’t talk about this, Sloane.”

She sighs, and I picture her pinching her nose, shaking her head. After a moment, she says, “Okay…well, just try to think about it then, okay? Astrid, you are so smart. And you know so much about the way people work. But you never apply it to yourself.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“I just want you to behappy.And I don’t think you’re going to do that by pushing Grayson away because you’re scared.”

I open my mouth to tell her that I’m not scared, but the words die. Maybe because my body doesn’t want to let me lie to my best friend.

After a moment, Sloane adds, “Astrid, I’ve never seen you this happy before. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to stay in Milwaukee.”

“Okay,” I say, biting my lip and taking a breath. “I’ll think about it.”

I’m not even sure whatthinking aboutit includes, but Sloane says she loves me and that she has to go, then hangs up. I picture her in New York right now, with the team, walking into the arena, and feel the strangest pang. The strangest urge to be there with them.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

Startling, I look up to see the receptionist from the front desk smiling down at me. “Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to make sure everything was okay? Were you able to get a ride?”

“Yes, thank you.” I stand up, heat flooding my cheeks, and I turn to go, but stop myself, turning back to her. “Actually, would you be able to hold my luggage for a few hours?”

***

When I set off without a destination, I end up in Santa Monica.

It’s pointless to wander through the city the way I do, but I order ride shares, taking them to every point in L.A. I know will make me cry. I order a hot dog at the place Dad used to love. I walk through the store Mom took me to when we bought my prom dress—the last time I would ever go shopping with her.

And, eventually, I step out of the car and into the bright light of the Santa Monica pier. I make my way through the tourists, past the amusement park, and keep walking until the crowds start to thin and I hit the very end of the boardwalk.

The ocean stretches out in front of me, to my left and right. As I sit on one of the benches, I can practically hear my mother beside me, kicking her feet as she strategically controls a strawberry ice cream cone as we sat together at twilight.

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