The next day at school I keep an eye out for John, curious as to why we never see much of each other during the day. The answer is one I didn’t expect.

Clearly, I wasn’t looking for John hard enough before. He’s everywhere.

Both our first and fifth period classes are in the same hallway. I spot him a few other times, usually in the hallway talking with a group of guys who by the looks of them, have never played a sport for fun in their entire lives.

At the end of the day, I manage to catch his eye and give a quick wave that he returns enthusiastically.

I manage to run into him again on my walk later that day. Our visit is faster this time. I could see myself making this my route more often.

But by the next Monday, it’s still Noah I wait for behind the bleachers.

He finds me right away, moving faster now that he’s realized we have a limited time together, before I have to disappear back into the dungeon of my house. Except as he moves toward me, I find myself stepping away.

Immediately, Noah freezes in place, not moving any closer. “Everything okay?”

Scrunching up my face, I try to figure out what to say. I’m not even sure what it is I’m doing or why I’m not already making out with Noah, since it has been my guilty pleasure for a while now.

When I woke up this morning, this time spent with him was what I was most looking forward to.

Something feels different today. Not between Noah and I, just with me. I feel different.

I feel better.

I kind of feel like breaking the promise I made to my parents isn’t the best way to win my freedom back anytime soon.

“We’ve got to stop this.” I say.

Noah doesn’t say anything, I can’t really blame him. Every day since we’ve started this, I’ve told him it can’t last. Now I don’t even want it to.

“I know I’m the worst. I just… I can’t be doing this right now. I swear it’s not you though.”

I don’t even consider telling Noah that I’ve been banned from dating—he’d probably point out that making out behind the school every day isn’t dating, even in high school terms—instead I give him a pathetic, “I can’t explain it.”, hoping that will be enough.

When Noah doesn’t argue, I’m a little disappointed. Shouldn’t I have been worth fighting for?

I realize that if our positions had been flipped, I probably wouldn’t have fought him on it either, and not just because being told thanks but no thanks isn’t exactly a feel great kind of moment. Hanging out with Noah was fun, kissing him was even better. I never really considered taking it farther than that. If he didn’t either, then I need to be okay with that.

Still… The next day, I avoid anywhere I might run into Noah, but like John, now he’s everywhere. Except, I’m pretty sure that now, Noah really is avoiding me. A situation that’s probably the best-case scenario for both of us. Since we don’t have any classes together and I’m no longer on any sports teams. Our lives don’t intersect nearly as much as they used to.

I’d still trade a little awkwardness with Noah for the chance to play soccer again in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, Joel is a lot harder to avoid.

I leave the cafeteria halfway through my lunch period, trying to rub out a mustard stain out of my jeans when I spot him leaning against a whitewashed wall, separating the principal's office from the main hallway. As soon as he sees me, Joel's expression shifts from disinterest.

It’s a little unsettling.

He strides toward me before I can turn and go in the opposite direction, making it look like I didn't notice him.

I'm tempted to turn around and leave anyway. "Hey Donovan." But he's already talking to me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for something to do to kill time. All of my buddies are stuck in the library, studying over lunch. I've been wandering around for an hour, I need to mix things up."

"Okay?" I say, mostly because it's the least I can say unless I'm willing to just fully ignore this guy. Which is something I'm absolutely considering.

"I was bored."

"That's nice."

“Why are you being such a bitch, Donovan?”

What?

The word feels like a punch in the gut. I didn’t see it coming.

Now he has my full attention. And I mostly wanted to find a way to damage this guy’s skull.

“Go. Away.”

The hallway around us is filling with more people now, I hope I’ll lose Joel in the crowd before I say something I’ll regret. Sadly, there’s still too much time left before the period ends and I’ll have any real chance.

“I’m trying to be friends here.”

“Don’t.” My voice shakes with strain as I try to move away from him.

I don’t know what Joel thinks he hears in my voice, but as he stays too close to me, moving toward my next class with me, his own voice takes on a hard edge that wasn’t there before. “This is why they chose our team instead of yours, you know? Too emotional. The girl’s teams were never going to be viable, so why waste the dollars there?”

When I turn on Joel, his face briefly morphs into a look of surprise. We’re standing almost nose to nose now as people by.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, so now you’re paying attention to me?”

“No. Now I’m telling you to just spit out whatever it is you want to say. Do you know something about why your team got chosen and ours didn’t?”

A smug smile is forming on Joel’s face, all I want to do is find something to say that can destroy the expression. Destroy him. “Figure it out for yourself, Donovan. It’s not hard. Why would anyone give limited budgeting dollars to your team when absolutely no one cares about women playing soccer? Let alone a team of mediocre girls from a town no one has heard of.”

“Unlike the guys team that’s going to be making the men’s Olympic team any day now?” The guys team had lost as many games as they’d won so far this season.

“We lost practice time at the beginning of the year.” Joel spits back.

“Whatever you’ve got to tell yourself.”

“We’ll get better. At least we have the chance. From what I’ve heard, they may never re-establish the girls team. I mean, why bother?”

I know exactly what part of that Joel’s hoping I’ll latch onto. He’s looking for a fight now. I’m still not convinced he isn’t making all of this up as he goes along. “Who is this they you keep talking about? No one would have bothered telling you anything important.”

“Says the girl who knows nothing at all.”

“You know what, I’m done.” I say. It's clear that even if Joel was willing to tell me something, he’s going to make me work for it. There's no way I’m begging this guy for scraps of information.

He’s right, I don’t know anything. Except now I know that there is something that we haven’t been told. Even if learning whoever it is won’t change anything now, there’s no way I can just go back to business as usual until I know what it is, and who made the decision.

At least there’s someone I can ask.

I find Coach Wasserman in her office, which is still in the athletics section of the school even if being a Coach is no longer officially part of her life.

“Reece?” She says when I rap my knuckles against the open door.

“Yeah.” I answer back. I know that look. “Do you teach one of my sisters?”

“Reilly is in my first period class.” She nods.

“Ahh. Well, I don’t want to bug you but…”

I must hover in the doorway for too long, because eventually the coach prompts me. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure. Probably not. I mean, I don’t know if this will actually help me at all. I was wondering—” Coach Wasserman strikes me as the type who likes to get right to the point. Maybe that’s just my own impatience speaking. I jump right in anyway. “I was wondering, could tell me why our team wasn’t allotted any of the money we raised?”

“There wasn’t enough to fund all the teams, Reece. You know that. I know it’s a hard pill to swallow.”

“I get that.” I say, stepping farther into the room, even though I’m not sure I really want to. How much could it actually cost to run something like a soccer team? It’s not like we were getting state of the art well, anything. “There's this rumor going around about why the guys team was chosen instead of ours.”

“Oh?” Coach Wasserman says, locking her eyes on mine. I can’t tell if she’s curious about what I’m about to say because she’s interested, or because she’s concerned that I’ve heard something I shouldn’t have. I don’t actually have anything else concrete. I was kind of hoping she’d be the one to fill in the blanks for me.

This could be my only chance to know for sure. I’ve got to take a chance.

“Someone told me that the guys team was selected instead of us because…”

I trail off, like I don’t want to say what it is I’ve heard out loud. While I do have a guess about what comes next, I need her to be the one to say it.

Coach Wasserman’s eyes flash with anger before she speaks, I suspect I’m headed toward something big.

“Sit down, Reece.” She motions to the chair in front of her. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s important that you do not jump to conclusions. The decision to cut any of the teams at all was more complicated than even I know. No one wanted to do it.”

“But…” I say, hoping to keep leading her forward.

“There wasn’t enough money to keep everyone.”

“So how did they decide where the money would go?” The room stays silent. “Please, I need to know. It’s too late now anyway. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this.”

“Viability.” the coach says at last, forming the word slowly and with a deep contempt. “It was thought that the boys team would be more viable, both in terms of interest from the town, and in terms of which students would have the best chance at college scholarships, based on their performances.”

“Oh.” It’s exactly what I’d suspected for a while now. Hearing it out loud is hard.

The town council, the PTA, whoever it was, got together and made a decision to cut a team I’d been desperate to play on for a year now, because they didn’t think we mattered as much because we’re the girls’ team.

Who cares about women’s sports? Right?

No one.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard an argument like this one, but I don’t like it any more now than I used to.

Not a day goes by where it isn’t obvious that everyone cares about men’s sports way more than women’s. I’ve stumbled into so many arguments online with guys from all over the world explaining exactly why they think that is.

“Is that allowed?” I ask out loud, mostly I’m wondering for myself.

I’m startled back out of my thoughts when Coach Wasserman slams her hand down on her desk. Her face has gone a little red. I’m almost tempted to remind her to breathe. Instead, I keep my mouth shut.

“Obviously it’s allowed.” she says, speaking softly. “I really did try to fight it. How can anyone expect this town or anyone else to take an interest in what we’re doing here, or what women are doing all over the world if no one gives them a chance to play? Obviously, my attempt failed. As far as everyone else was concerned their team was the better bet, so we were the ones who got cut. End of story.”

There are so many things I want to say, but from the way she’s staring out the window now, I can tell that everything I’m thinking, my coach has already said to herself or everyone else a dozen times over already.

That doesn’t make any of this okay.

Ten minutes later as I'm still clenching my teeth, I pace up and down the hallway as the warning bell rings.

My mind keeps flipping between my conversation with Joel, to what Coach Wasserman said, to all of the things I’d love to say to both of them right now.

If they think they can get away with this… except, they already have.

The school picked the guys team instead of us because they thought a bunch of dudes would have a better chance at making something of themselves playing soccer than we would, that their athletic careers matter more now than ours ever could.

How can this be okay?

I already know that it isn’t. None of this is okay.

Glancing down the hallway at the few people still not in their classrooms for next period, I try to figure out who I can tell. Right now. Who is going to be as pissed off about this as I am?

Argh! It takes everything I have not to just scream out in the hallway right now. I know it won’t help.

I need help.

I have no idea what to do with the information I have. So now I’m just stuck.

There has to be something!

The final bell rings and I’m officially late for class, leaving me with a split-second decision to make.

I can go try and find someone to talk to about this and to cool down, saving myself from being trapped at a desk for more than an hour while I slowly lose my mind. Or, I can go to class like I’m supposed to. Like I promised I would, and give myself more time to figure out a plan in the process.

Everything in me wants to go, wants to do something.

But, I don’t. Instead, I slip inside the classroom without another thought, giving my teacher an apologetic shrug as I sit down. I’m not even sure Mrs. Owens noticed when I came in.

Trying to pay attention is torture, I fail more than I succeed, but I’m there. That has to count for something.

I even manage to make it through the whole period without yelling at anyone, or even texting the rest of the team to tell them what I know. Having a dozen other girls just as angry as I am isn’t going to make things better, not yet.

Now that I know what I do, there’s no way I can sit on this information. No way do I want to.

Maybe it’s typical Reece, but I have to do something. Now, it’s only a matter of what to do.

By the end of the school day, I’ve still gotten absolutely nowhere, but at least I’m feeling a little more level headed. Level-headed enough to know that I need a second opinion, with maybe a few others after that.

Reilly and Rhiannon are waiting for me after school—Reagan has a date with Kent—and as I look at Rhiannon, I’m reminded of a conversation we had back around the first week of school when I was first trying to figure out what to do about the team being canceled.

Talk to Mom.

It’s probably not a terrible idea now either.