I arrive in English class with less than a minute before the bell rings, taking the free seat beside Susanna with the note is still clenched in my hand. I haven’t been able to make myself read it again, as though that will somehow change what it says.

Susanna’s face is pink and puffy, a tear-track streaking through the foundation on one of her cheeks. I’m guessing she got the letter too. There's no time to ask as the bell rings overhead, signaling the beginning of our first class of the year.

I so don’t have time for this right now.

As the teacher begins his introduction, I survey the room around me. Not to see who else I already know in my first period class, but to see if there is anyone who might have more information on what exactly is going on.

In the back of the room, two guys mouth frantically at one another, trying unsuccessfully to be subtle about their conversation. In the row opposite mine, a tall black girl reads over a piece of paper on her desk, not paying any more attention to whatever is happening at the front of the classroom.

None of this helps me at all.

I open up my phone and find I already have half a dozen text messages waiting for me. They're all questions and no answers.

Nobody knows how this happened. So far, no one seems to have any ideas about how we can fix it.

It’s only once I open my email that I find anything even remotely useful—a letter sent from Coach Wasserman to the entire team half an hour ago.

Girls,

By now, I expect you will have heard the news. This has come as a shock to me as well as I was only informed when I arrived at school this morning. I am going to go find answers now, and would ask that you all be patient through what I suspect will be a very frustrating day.

In the meantime, no matter what the official word is, I still consider you all members of my team, and I expect you to act with the level of professionalism that requires.

I am not giving up and neither should you.

Coach Wasserman

The coach’s letter actually makes me feel worse instead of better. This is really happening. It’s not a joke or a mistake.

Soccer has been cancelled for the year.

The next hour feels like torture as I fidget through the entire period, desperate to get up and start moving. I need to do something!

Finally, the bell rings at the end of class. I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear a single word the teacher spoke for the entire time I was in his classroom. I’m up in an instant, throwing my bag over my shoulder and heading back out into the hall. I’m not the only one. It seems like everyone in school knows what’s happening now since people are talking over one another and demanding explanations as they move between rooms.

It’s only Coach Wasserman’s note about remaining professional that keeps me from cornering the first teacher I see, to find out if they can tell me anything more.

When I pass Vice Principal Singh on the way to my World History Class, I find her trying to talk to five different belligerent teenagers all at once, none of whom look happy with whatever she’s telling them.

Rhiannon is already seated in the second period class we share by the time I make it in. Usually, I’d have no interest in sitting in the front row, now however, I’m desperate to talk and vent to someone about my frustration. Besides, Rhi has always been a problem solver. Maybe she’ll see an angle to this that I’ve missed.

Rhiannon notices me only once I sit down beside her. “You’re early.” she says with an obvious note of surprise.

I wave off her comment. “Have you heard anything?”

Rhiannon’s perfectly shaped eyebrows knit together. “About what?”

“Are you serious?”

“Mostly, I’m just confused.”

So much for my sister being any help. “They cancelled a bunch of the sports teams for the year.” I explain. “Budget reasons or something.”

“Really? Can they do that?” Rhiannon grabs her phone from the top of her desk and types something into it, I have no idea what she’s looking for. “I guess they can.”

I groan and weave my fingers into my hair as I rest my head on the desk. “This cannot be happening.”

Rhi surprises me by reaching over and giving my arm a quick squeeze. “I’m really sorry, Reece. This sucks. Is there anything I can do?”

Hopeful, I look up at her. No answer springs to mind. “I don’t know.” I say, honestly. “I was kind of hoping you’d have an idea about how to fix this.”

“Not really my area of expertise.”

“Okay, but what would you do if…” I rack my brain for some sort of extracurricular Rhiannon enjoys. I come up empty. “What if they cancelled Model U.N.?”

Rhiannon tilts her head, perplexed. “I’m not in Model U.N., I don’t even think this school has anything like that.”

“Okay, but what if you were and you loved it? How about with no notice or warning, someone decided to take it away from you? What would you do?” The class is almost full now, I doubt I have much longer before class starts.

Please, please, please, let Rhiannon give me something I can work with.

“I assume the ‘someone’ that took it away isn’t a student? Someone with authority, who is probably way higher up in the food chain than I am?”

It’s a little weird to think of the school as a food chain but sure. I nod. “What would you do?”

Rhiannon’s jaw tenses in place as she gives a determined nod right back at me. “I’d call mom.”

The bell rings, cutting our talk short. I’m already remembering exactly why I hated the jarring noise so much last year. Class begins right away, now there’s no chance I’ll be able to get Rhiannon’s attention again. Unlike me, she actually cares about what’s happening in class.

At least she gave me something I can work with.

Mom.

It’s actually not the worst idea ever.

At this point, whatever is happening is probably completely out of my control. Out of the control of any student for that matter. While I know Coach Wasserman isn’t going to give up on this, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have another adult on our side. Mom actually has some pull in this town.

She grew up here in Fairview, even moved back after she finished college and married Dad. We moved back here the second time so she could take over the practice of Fairview’s old doctor. She knows people. People like and respect her.

Maybe it’s a long shot, but I’m so not above asking my mommy for help if I think it will make a difference.

I pull out my phone again and ignore all of my mixed text messages. I have the rest of the period to go through those. Before doing anything else, I check my email again, but there’s nothing new. Coach is probably stuck the same way I am, except having to teach a class rather than sit through one, even though she’d rather be getting answers.

Which brings me back to Plan B.

Reece: The school has cancelled a bunch of the sports teams this semester. No one knows what’s happening. Is there anything you can do? Anyone you can call?

I get a response almost right away, which is a small miracle.

Mom: Hang tight. I’ll see what I can find out.

Well, that’s not quite Mom to the rescue, but it’s a start.

Needing something else to do with myself, I send off my second parental text in row.

Reece: How’s Molly?

Dad: She’s doing great. Napping in my office right now. I think she’s wondering where everyone has disappeared to.

Reece: Well, give her a hug for me when she wakes up.

Reece: Actually… I’m having a really crappy day so far (details when I get home) so if you get the urge to send me puppy pictures, you won’t hear any complaints from me.

Dad immediately responds back with a series of Molly pictures I’ve never seen before. In one she’s eating her breakfast, another chewing a stick in the yard and in the third she’s sitting in a pile of—I hope—dirty laundry. She’s not napping in any of them.

Dad has been taking pictures of the dog all day. I can’t help but smile.

The burst of joy seeing Molly’s pictures brings me only lasts a few minutes. Too soon, I’m back to wishing I could skip ahead to the end of the day to when I’m no longer trapped here, helpless.

“Miss Donovan.” a voice calls from the front of the room. I look up to find the teacher, Mrs. Cody is looking right at me. “Phone away.”

This is why I don’t sit in the front of the class.

I don’t see a single one of my sisters during lunch period. I don’t even remember to eat. Instead, I spend the whole period with Emma, Jamie and some of the other girls on the team, exchanging information—no one knows much of anything—and theorizing about anything remotely related to what has happened.

None of this manages to make me feel any better. None of it helps at all.

More than once, I pull pictures of Molly up on my phone. It doesn’t make much of a difference in my mood either.

At the end of the period, all of us on the girl’s soccer team get an update at the same time.

Quick update.

I’m afraid I don’t have any good news to share, but the fight is only just beginning. It looks like this was a last minute decision brought on by budget cuts coming down from the city council. It has been requested that I not share any more with you than that. But, should your parents have any interest in learning more about what led to these changes, a joint town council and PTA meeting is being organized for later this week.

Coach Wasserman

P.S.–Town council meetings are open to all citizens of Fairview, no matter their age.

It’s not exactly the news we were hoping for, but at least we’re not already out of options.

Even though I haven’t heard from her yet, I forward the update to my mom, hoping it might help her somehow too. If nothing else, I’m hoping she’ll be able to go with me, whenever this mystery meeting ends up being. With my mom’s schedule, it can be hard to plan ahead.

At the end of the school day, I’m not really sure what to do with myself.

Class ends, go to practice. That was the plan. Now, it’s not. I haven’t had any other updates from either Mom or Coach Wasserman, now I really have no idea what to do with myself.

I end up behind the school on the large lawn that holds two soccer fields, a baseball diamond, and a track. By the looks of it, I’m not the only person who had this idea. Two dozen or so kids are already hanging around when I arrive, and it looks like there are more coming behind me.

I text my sisters to head home without me as I go looking for someone I know.

It’s Noah that I find first, standing on his own and looking as lost as I feel.

“Hey.” he says as I stop to stand beside him, both of us leaning on the bleachers.

“Hey.” We stand in silence for nearly a minute. While talking to guys, even ones as cute as Noah, it usually isn’t a problem for me but I don’t feel even a little like myself right now. “I guess it’s not worth asking if you’ve heard anything.”

Noah just shakes his head at first. A minute later he speaks, “I think all of the coaches are together now, even the ones whose teams haven’t been cut. They’re trying to get answers, or figure out if there’s any way to undo this.”

Looking at Noah, I wish more than ever that there was something I could do to make this better. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed the rich, dark green color of his eyes before. I can’t even appreciate them in this moment because there’s only sadness in them now.

I look around for any sign of my friends and if they’re here, I can’t find them in the crowd.

“This was supposed to be my year. You know?”

I turn back toward Noah, but he’s not even looking at me. Instead, he’s staring over at the school like it’s the source of all his problems. Which, maybe it is. “This was supposed to be the year I got noticed outside of this crap town. I’ve been working my ass off for a year, now it was all for nothing. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time.”

As I open my mouth, I’m sure whatever I say will be the wrong thing. Staying silent isn’t an option either. I need to do something to try and make this better. “It wasn’t for nothing.” I start. “I’ve seen how good you are. That’s going to matter to people. People who can make things happen for you. Talent is talent, no town’s budgetary nonsense can take that away from you.”

It might be my imagination, but I think the corner of Noah’s mouth perks up a bit. Hoping I can push that smile even a little further, I keep going. “Maybe one day you’ll be this mega star—playing on the national team, your face on cereal boxes, a few gold medals to your name—and this will just be one of those stories you tell during your endless interviews about the hurdles you had to jump in order to find your success.”

For an instant, his smile expands. As quickly as it came, it’s gone. “Or, this will be the thing that stops me.” he retorts. “This will be the day that changes my life and not for the better. There are tons of talented people out there, Reece. In the end, luck plays more of a factor than most of us like to admit.”

At first, I’m disappointed in his response. Maybe I’d been counting on him to cheer me up just as much as the other way around. Yet, the more I think about it, the more I realize just how much I disagree with his attitude. “Well, I like to think that we can all make our own luck, at least a little.”

I push myself off from the wall and then stretch my arms over my head. I’ve done enough standing around and waiting already today. It's pretty clear that nobody else here is doing any better than I am.

This is getting me nowhere.

“You’re going?” Noah asks. I nod. “Where to?”

“I’m not totally sure yet. Hopefully somewhere that makes me happy. This headache will still be here in the morning.”