The Girl Who Fell by S.M. Parker

my stick over my head. Someone thrusts the game ball into my other palm. I hold these pieces above me as my teammates raise me above them. Lizzie’s camera follows me upward, her repeated flash leaving dots in my eyes—smaller, brighter versions of the field lights that have borne witness to our hard-won victory.
    When my feet return to the ground, Lizzie tells me, “You are now without question the most bestest field hockey player I’ve ever been best friends with. It’s my working headline.” She pulls me to her before her face contorts. “Even if you do smell ripe.”
    â€œIt’s an unfortunate side effect of greatness.”
    â€œYou were awesome out there, Zee. Really.”
    I can’t stop the smile sprinting to my face. “It felt great. A tough game, but an unforgettable one for sure.”
    â€œNot a bad way to end a career.” Lizzie scans the photos on her camera’s display screen. “Yours and mine.”
    That’s when it hits me that this is the last game of mine she’ll watch. The last time she’ll write up a story about my team. The thought jolts me with loss. That, and . . .
    â€œHave you seen Gregg?” I wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve and scan the crowd.
    She looks at me, her eyes soft. “It’s his loss, Zee.”
    My heart plummets to my stomach.
    Coach calls for me to get my hustle on. “Chop, chop, Doyle!”
    I thumb toward my classmates loading onto the bus. “I gotta ride back with the team. I’ll text you about the party at Karen’s.”
    â€œFigure out the details and just come pick me up. After you shower, obvs.”
    â€œWill do.” I turn, but before my feet carry me away, I move closer toward her. “I want you to have this.” I jiggle my gift in a loose fist.
    Lizzie extends her palm, onto which I slide my saliva-filled guard.
    â€œA small trophy. To mark the end of an era.”
    â€œYou are gross, Zephyr Doyle.” She hooks my mouth guard across the V of her hoodie like some perverse medal. “You make me so proud, little grasshopper.”
    â€œThanks Obi-Wan.”
    My smile reaches Coach before I do. The bus literally rocks from my teammates clanking sticks in beats of victory. Adrenaline surges. I’ll never have a night like this again and all I want to do is capture this rush, bottle it.
    We plan to celebrate in style. Karen’s parents have opened up their house to the team and our fans. Heated pool. Catered food. And even though I’m psyched that Lizzie will be there with me, I can’t help how the sadness of absent Gregg wiggles into this night.
    I approach the door to the bus as a figure steals out from beyond the headlights.
    I’d know the shape anywhere.
    His steady gait.
    His broad shoulders.
    My heart sprints as if I’m on the field again.
    Alec walks to me. “You rocked it, Zephyr actually.”
    â€œYou’re here?”
    â€œWouldn’t have missed it.” He pulls me softly off to the side. It’s almost too surreal: his support, his tousled hair, his beautiful tallness. “See me tonight. To celebrate.” He strokes my cheek with his finger and I press my face into the tenderness of his touch.
    â€œI-I can’t. I already made plans.”
    He scowls softly, his disappointment making him even cuter. “With who?”
    â€œThe team has this huge celebration bash planned. I told Lizzie we’d head over after I showered.”
    â€œBe with me instead.” He steps closer to me, his breath so close to my neck I can feel its signature heat. And I smell the spearmint hovering on his words.
    â€œI can’t.” I couldn’t.
    â€œYou can.”
    I laugh. “If only. Maybe tomorrow?”
    Alec nods, smiling. “Tomorrow.” He steals a quick kiss on the cheek before Coach hollers again.
    â€œThanks for coming.” I board the bus and it lurches