Someone screams my name from the bleachers, but I do my best to stay focused on the drill I’m working through. Any other day, I would have no problem zoning out to focus entirely on the ball, on the other players around me and on the coach’s every signal and mood. Today, all I can hear are three voices nearly identical to my own, cheering me on from the stands. Thankfully, it's more encouraging than distracting.

I watched a lot of the girls’ soccer games last year, somewhat to prepare myself for today and somewhat just because I missed the game. Even though I recognize most of the other girls here today, every single one of them is playing better than I would've guessed. Last year I would've said this team was okay at best, but this year's group is looking like a force to be reckoned with. They might even be as good as my team back in Richmond. I reach the end of the course I'd been maneuvering the ball through and swiftly kick it off to the next person waiting in line, a girl named Emma who everyone seems to think will be captain next year. She, like everyone else on the team, has to try out again with each new school year at the coach’s orders. She connects with the ball like a pro before moving forward, seemingly twice as fast as I was. I'll be the first person to tell you that when it comes to handling a ball, I'm good. Very good. However, there's no question that she's better.

The coach has us move on to a scrimmage not long after, I'm lucky enough to get put into a defense spot. I can play more than one position, especially if I want to show off, which today I really do, then this is exactly where I need to be.

Somewhere on the sideline, my sisters have started a rhyming chant, working my name in to rhyme with everything from geese, to fleece to beast. It’s a little weird hearing Reagan and Rhiannon make this much noise, but they do it because they know I love it.

The opposing team's center player loses control of the ball, giving me a chance to swoop in and redirect it to our own offensive players. Just like that, I'm back in the game. One hundred percent. The rest of the world falls away, I focus on everything around me that could affect the outcome of what I'm doing right now.

The scrimmage only lasts for about ten minutes before Coach Wasserman blows her whistle, signaling the end of the day's activities. I'm a little winded but feeling more alert and alive than I have all summer. Maybe even for the last year. God, I've missed this.

I glance over at the coach, whose silver hair is pulled back into a ponytail, I wish I could figure out what she’s thinking. Did she even notice me out there? It doesn’t matter how well I played, if the coach didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.

Now I’ll have to wait until Monday to learn if I made the team.

As we all shuffle off the field, most of the girls clump together in groups and start playing back over everything that just happened. I hold up a finger to a few of the girls I ate lunch with during my first semester last year, jogging over to my sisters. I’m dying to rehash every moment, but it can wait a few more minutes while I thank my devoted cheering section.

“You did great.” Reilly says, raising her hand for a high-five once I’m close enough to lean in, slapping her hand with my own. “I say that as someone who knows almost nothing about soccer, so you know you can trust me.”

“To be fair...” Rhiannon chimes in, “...we’ve been watching you play for so many years now, we aren’t completely clueless about what good soccer is supposed to look like, and that was good soccer. I thought you said this school team kind of sucked?”

My jaw clenches in frustration as I look around, silently praying that no one overheard her. Thankfully, there’s no one close enough by that might have caught what she said. “Don’t say that. Not here, not anywhere. Especially if I make the team.” I keep my scolding to a minimum, hoping the conversation will drop away before any of my sisters can draw any unwanted attention.

Even now as the four of us stand together in a semicircle, each of my sisters trying to top each other with their soccer knowledge as they talk over one another, so many people on the field are watching us. Most at least, are trying to pretend they don’t notice or don’t care about us, but a few stare outright. I reach up and tighten my blond ponytail, hoping I don’t look too sweaty and disheveled after all that running around.

“Are you heading home with us?” Reagan asks.

“Nope. I want to stay and watch the guys’ tryout. I know a few people from the team last year and want to see how they do. Plus, I haven’t seen most of these people since June. I see all of your faces every day.”

“You know you love this face.” Rhiannon says, pursing her lips together to mock my usual selfie face, something all of my sisters love to give me a hard time about. Their faces may look just like mine, but that expression is all me.

Together, all three of my sisters head across to the edge of the field and back toward home, already out of shouting distance before I remember the other big thing that happened to me today. Puppies. My sisters may not care about animals as much as I do, but they’ve always had my back in my quest for a family dog. Really, who can resist puppies?

That will have to wait until later. Although, I’m already picturing all six fluffy faces all over again.

“Reece.” my friend Jamie calls from the bleachers, where she’s changing out of her cleats and back into running shoes. After grabbing my backpack with my own change of clothes, I make my way over as a few of the other girls I sometimes hang out with, join us as well. “Sticking around for a while?”

“That’s the plan. A lot of the guys team graduated last year, so I want to see the potential new recruits.”

Jamie nods appreciatively as Emma sits down beside her and looks right at me. “You’re Reece, right?”

“Yep.” I stick out my hand to shake hers, something I’d never do in a million years at school. Sports always seems to bring out my inner dork. My coach back home always pressed the importance of putting our best selves forward both on and off the field, it’s hard to turn that off now. Even though the coach is no longer here judging every move we make.

“You were good out there.”

“Thanks. You’re awesome, so that means a lot.” As much as I hate to admit when someone is better than me, I’m all for making friends with anyone and everyone who might be willing to talk soccer. If it helps improve my own game, even better.

We only have a few minutes to chat before the guys run out on the field, following behind is a man I don’t recognize. He lets out a few short blasts with his whistle and the guys group up around him. W hoever he is, that’s not the same coach as last year.

“Alright, men. You’ve got an hour to show me what you’re made of.” Even though we’re almost on the opposite end of the yard, I can hear every word this man is shouting at the three-dozen or so teenaged boys standing around him. I’m more than a little glad that Coach Wasserman wasn’t quite as intense with her own run through. It is still summer vacation after all, and yelling at these guys, half of whom probably aren’t even going to make the team, seems like a bit much.

The conversation around me falls away as we focus in on the next hour, only chatting in order to comment on a particularly good play or the players who clearly stand out above the rest. There were a few guys I recognized from the year before, and some newcomers who looked like freshmen that had speed but lacked any real finesse.

From the moment soccer balls started moving around the field, to when the final whistle blew, there was never any question about who the best player on this year’s team was going to be. Noah Brieck stood out well above the rest. Everyone knew he was the reason last year’s team got as far in the play-offs as they did, and that his parents had paid for a private coach in July to help push him further.

As someone who had spent a good chunk of her sophomore year watching Noah, I could safely say that whatever he had been doing had paid off. The guy looked good. Damn good. He had already been pretty incredible last year, but this was something else. He would almost seem preternaturally talented, if I wasn't well aware of how much work went into learning the footwork he was totally showing off at the moment.

Eventually, the guys’ tryout comes to an end with a series of whoops and hollers from both the guys on the field, and those of us watching in the stands. The only person that seems unaffected by the enthusiasm around him is the new coach, who simply walks off the field, already scribbling something down on the clipboard in his hand.

I move to stand up and stretch, reaching my hands up above my head and toward the sun, trying to pretend I didn't notice Noah as he jogged off in the opposite direction toward a cooler full of water bottles. His black hair is cut short, only standing up a couple of inches from the top of his head. I knew from past experience that his eyes were almost the exact same dark color, with only a hint of brown.

Maybe one of my resolutions for the new school year should be to stop paying quite so much attention to Noah. Of course that’s the exact moment when he turns and looks right at me, almost as though he could feel my gaze.

Knowing I’m caught, I wiggle my fingers at him. I’m totally okay with Noah knowing I was watching him.

"Reece?" Jamie asks from beside me.

I blink once and shake my head a little to regain my focus. "What's up?"

"We were just asking if you wanted to head into town to grab burgers with us?"

It’s so tempting to say yes. While I've seen a lot of people over summer vacation, it’s been a long time since this many of my friends have been in the same place at the same time. I end up shaking my head no instead. "There was something kind of unexpected at the shelter today.” I explain. I deliberately leave out the puppies in case anyone got it in their head to follow me to my volunteer gig. "I kind of want to go back in and see how things are going." After a second and a small bout of hesitation, I continue. "Actually, do any of you guys know John… I'm not sure what his last name is. His aunt is Kendra Bishop. The woman who runs the shelter."

Emma grins, her white teeth stark against her dark skin. "Oh yeah, I know John. He's a bit of a geek, and he can't play sports to save his life, but he's a nice guy. Our moms are in some book club together, so we end up stuck together sometimes when they do family get-togethers. Why? You like him?"

"Nothing like that.” I stammer out. “I met him this morning when he came in to help out and didn't even realize we had a class together last year. I just kind of felt like an idiot for not knowing who he was. I guess at this point there are still a lot of people I don't know."

Jamie laughs. "To be fair, you have been here for less than a year and you probably already know more people than I do. I'm willing to bet you have a bunch of friends back in your old hometown you stay in touch with too."

I do my best to nod knowingly, not wanting to admit just how little I'd gotten to talk to Aly and Aditi all summer. We had all these plans to get together after the school year ended. They’d come here and I’d get to visit back home, but as the months went on, we talked about it less and less. Now with only a couple of weeks left of summer vacation, it doesn’t look likely that it is going to happen at all.

That wasn't even the sad part. What really bugs me is how little I really care anymore. I love talking to them and I love hearing about everyone from back home, but there’s a distance now that’s all too easy to explain and not just literally. I’ve made new friends in Fairview and a new life here, while Aly’s and Aditi’s lives have kept going in Virginia. The exact thing we all promised one another wouldn't happen when I moved is happening, and I wasn't even trying to stop it.

What kind of friend does that make me?

As a group, we all get up and climb down off the bleachers. It doesn’t take long to walk out around the school and back toward the main street leading into town. Fairview High School isn't big by any standard, I’m totally okay with putting my back to it for at least another week, two if I don't end up making the team.

Walking back toward the animal shelter, my mind is completely divided between soccer and puppies. I'd woken up this morning not thinking about anything except how badly I wanted to make the team. It was kind of all I’ve been thinking about for months. Now, a big part of me just wants to know that those dogs are going to be okay.