Chapter 11My phone buzzes on my nightstand. Melanie.
Good morning, good luck charm! Looking forward to seeing you today.
I catch myself smiling. Good morning! I can’t wait. Is it still all a big secret?
Wear something comfortable, she texts back. Something you can move in. Yoga pants, sweats. And my shirt.
* * * *
I arrive at the gym at 2:15. The bleachers are already more than half full, but I manage to snag a seat in the front row. Baltimore, the visiting team, is warming up on the track, their coach blowing the whistle to signal stops. Each time the whistle blows, the team collectively grinds to a halt, skates digging loudly into the blue sport court floor.
Forty-five minutes later, the game starts. Melanie is the starting jammer for New York, exploding forward on her toe stops at
