Mel could have fooled herself into thinking no time had passed between that first season and this one, if not for the glimpses she caught in her rearview mirror of their newest and youngest teammate. Luci, wide-eyed and rod straight, in Mel’s back seat, her hands tucked under her thighs.
Phoebe twisted around, stunned that Luci didn’t know the song, even though Luci would have been only like nine or ten when it came out. Despite Mel’s protest, Phoebe abruptly skipped to the next track, another favorite. At first Luci played like she’d heard this one before—clearly wishful thinking, because by the chorus, it was obvious she hadn’t. Before Phoebe jumped ahead to the third track, Mel shut her car stereo off and didn’t let Phoebe turn it back on until after they’d dropped Luci at her house. These were their love songs after all, and with everything their friendship had endured in the last few months, Mel didn’t want to squander a single note on a third wheel.
When this last song ends, Mel opens her eyes and turns her head to face Phoebe. The girls smile at each other. It reminds Mel of this very night three years ago. Mel and Phoebe, pre-boobs but post-periods, wearing their brand-new varsity jerseys like nightgowns, were tucked in their sleeping bags, smiling at each other through the dark while their teammates snoozed around them. They felt like the two luckiest girls in the whole world.
And really, all things considered, they still are.
Phoebe turns her head and says, “I can’t believe this is our last season.”
Mel nods. “It’ll be a miracle if I get through tonight without crying.” She’s quick to add, “Happy tears,” despite already knowing she’ll cry tears of sadness, too. How could she not, when it marks the beginning of the end of her time as a Wildcat.
Mel cuts the engine and grabs her wallet from the center console. Phoebe heads straight for the entrance, but Mel circles around and clicks open her trunk to grab a hoodie. This Starbucks is always freezing. She’s got so many packages and shopping bags stuffed inside—plus her and Phoebe’s field hockey gear—that it takes a bit of digging before Mel eventually pulls out a slouchy cotton sweater instead of a hoodie. Which is fine.
She slips it over her head and checks her reflection. Maybe cuter, actually.
Mel quickly adjusts whatever stuff she disturbed, though she takes extra care when repositioning an enormous gold piñata, making sure it won’t get crushed when she closes the hatch.
It was a last-minute impulse buy—not accounted for in Mel’s carefully laid plans, a bullet-pointed rainbow of ink copied in her very best penmanship—but this piñata might very well come to define her entire Wildcat legacy. She runs her hand lightly over the shimmering paper, her reflection mirrored in the hundreds of metallic snips. The confidence she’s known for comes back from whatever mysterious place it drained to.
Mel feels ready. And not a moment too soon.
Tonight is the first Psych-Up of their brand-new season.
Coach has always been brilliant at coming up with different ways to keep his field hockey girls close. At the very core of his coaching philosophy is the belief that cultivating bonds off the field translates to bonds on the field. But Coach’s implementation of Psych-Ups is, undoubtedly, his most genius idea. It’s become such an important and beloved tradition, she can’t imagine it would ever be abandoned by the Wildcats, not even when Coach eventually moves on and coaches somewhere else.
Psych-Ups are when the entire varsity Wildcat squad is invited to a senior player’s house for a team dinner and sleepover before their weekend game. So either a Friday or Saturday night, depending on the schedule.
Coach always shows up for the dinner part. And depending on the vibe or what else he has going on, he sometimes sticks around and hangs out for a little while afterward.
A good bet is to get him talking about field hockey. Movies are also one of Coach’s favorite topics. The girls have fun winding him up about famous movies they haven’t seen. He can’t believe they’d rather watch garbage reality TV instead of whatever cinematic masterpiece is currently streaming on Netflix. But it’s not like getting stuck talking with one of your parents’ friends, because Coach isn’t butchering some hugely famous person’s name. He listens to the same music, he doesn’t need someone to explain why certain texts show up in blue bubbles and some in green bubbles. It’s just … super chill.
Either way, before Coach takes off, he’ll make a speech about the next day’s game, get them fired up not simply to play but to win.
After he leaves, all twenty girls cram themselves into a den or family room and spread out their sleeping bags. Then they watch a movie of the senior host’s choosing as a way to unwind, multiple bags of microwave popcorn in orbit. Sometimes they make it to the end credits. But at most Psych-Ups, the movie gets shut off well before. Coach expects everyone in bed, with lights out, by ten o’clock.
Every senior holds a Psych-Up at some point during the season—sometimes two—but first-night hosting duties always fall to the team captain. Mel’s parents are going all out tonight—caterers booked, a white tent erected in the backyard, dozens of white rose arrangements, helium balloon sculptures assembled in Wildcat colors. Even still, Mel’s Psych-Up will follow the structure of any other.
Until the clock strikes midnight.
That’s when, at Mel’s direction, the Wildcats break Coach’s curfew for the first and only time all season to hold their own secret season kick-off celebration on their home field, underneath the twinkling stars.
It’s not to undermine his authority. This is in no way a rebellion. If anything, it’s about the girls doubling down on the values Coach works so hard to instill in them. Loyalty. Pride. Grit.
Team first, always.
The captains have plenty of opportunities to put their own spin on the festivities. What music they’ll listen to, what bonding games they’ll play, what late-night diner to stuff their faces at afterward. But the night always, always culminates in a special ceremony where the captain presents each of her teammates with their varsity jersey. And, in accepting those jerseys, the girls pledge their hearts to the Wildcats.
It’s a beautiful thing.
Mel is a golden girl, a top player of not just the Wildcats but all high schools in their state. Naturally, she aspires for her Psych-Up midnight celebration to be the greatest yet. That she’s had less than a month to prepare for it—while previous captains got an entire off-season—has only made Mel more determined to exceed expectations.
But that wasn’t the only challenge Mel faced with her Psych-Up plans. There’s another horrible kink she needed to account for.
Until last season, the Wildcats have always been champions.
The best strategy Mel could come up with was to avoid, avoid, avoid, and instead keep her teammates focused on the future. In fact, she planned to expressly forbid any mention of last season’s disastrous end during her Psych-Up. This was how Mel herself survived the off-season, embracing whatever methods of distraction necessary to put it out of her mind. And she suspected she wasn’t the only one.
Mel and her teammates each swallowed the same bitter pill of disappointment, forced it down, and tried to move on. Was it really such a big deal if the loss was still there, a lump bobbing in the backs of their throats?