But he won’t do it. He doesn’t want to waste a ball on me, not with Karey and Roshni charging the goals. He wants me to throw first so he can catch or dodge or block. He wants me unarmed and out of his way.
So I do what he wants. I throw my ball, which he blocks easily, and then follow it to crash my shoulder into his abdomen before the slight smirk fades from his face. My tackle catches him off guard, which is the only reason it gets even a sliver of traction, and within seconds my feet slide out from under me as Other Chris digs his cleats into the ground and raises his ball to hit me.
That’s when John appears with my recovered bludger and beats him in the back of the head.
Other Chris growls, his beating partner turns toward us, and Karey sinks a goal straight through the shortest hoop. John and I scramble to pick up the dropped balls and sprint back to our side of the pitch, bludgers raised in triumph.
* * *
• • •
We still lose, but we lose less badly than we could have.
The handshake line is a subdued affair, with none of the hugs or jokes we shared with League City, just lots of grim sweaty faces and clipped “Good game”s. I’m not sure what our opponents look so glum about until Karey pulls us into a huddle back by our bags.
“Hey, y’all,” she says, her voice quieter than I’ve ever heard it. “I am so proud of that comeback. I don’t care what the scoreboard says—we were only thirty points down! If we’d pulled the snitch and made it to overtime . . .” I avoid looking at Aaron, who was seeking when we lost. “That just shows how much stronger we are this year. Did you see how frustrated they were? They expected an easy blowout. They didn’t want to have to work hard to beat us.” Karey throws her arms around Melissa on her left and Lindsay on her right. The rest of us lean in, hands on each other’s backs. My sweaty arm sticks to John’s damp shirt and Elizabeth’s braid, which drips from when she poured her water bottle over her head.
“We have about an hour and a half until our next game,” Karey continues, “so meet back here at eleven fifteen to warm up. I’m going to go watch the MILFs take down the Plastics.”
Our huddle breaks down as people scatter toward the bathrooms, toward the other teams to greet friends, or toward the pitches to watch one of the two games starting now. John squeezes my arm and then heads for the restrooms. Erin puts Aaron’s hat back on as they share a tube of sunscreen. Melissa follows Karey toward the sidelines of the other pitch without looking back at me, and I freeze for a second, not totally sure whether to follow her or not.
“Hey, Ellen.” Elizabeth crouches next to her bag and digs out a Tupperware container. “Want any grapes? I’m going to watch the game.”
“Thanks,” I say, pulling one green grape off the bunch and popping it into my mouth. “Thanks a lot.” It’s too much gratitude for a piece of fruit, and nowhere near enough for the offer of company. I smile at Elizabeth’s shrug and follow her toward the nearest pitch.
We end up sitting next to Karey and Melissa along with most of the team, but I’m still glad that Elizabeth is becoming my beater buddy. Aaron and Erin scootch closer to us, too, talking beater plays and fighting over a snack pack of pretzels.
Now that I’m sitting still, I am more aware of the sun beating down on every inch of exposed skin, light heating my black cotton shirt into an oven.
“Hey.” Melissa leans over Karey and Lindsay to wave at me. “Where’d you go?”
“You were killing it today,” Karey says, offering a high five. “You and John kept bludger control for that whole streak of points.” Only because John instructed me to stand practically on top of our hoops and not move, but I take the compliment with a smile. “Oh, and remind me to introduce you to some of the people who play for UT during the normal season.”
“I want to meet A&M players!” Melissa squeaks. “You’ll introduce me, right?” She leans back so I can’t see her and draws Karey and Lindsay into a discussion of A&M quidditch, which doesn’t make me mad at all, because I am surrounded by beater friends and completely focused on watching the game in front of us.
“Oh,” I say after a second. “I get it. MILFs. Because they’re cougars.” The UH summer team wears red school shirts, most of which display their cougar mascot’s paw prints.
Elizabeth nods. “Yep, ’cause that joke isn’t overdone.”
The MILFs face off against the Plastics, the team with the pink bro tanks. I practice watching the beaters, trying not to get distracted by the rest of the game. If I concentrate hard enough, I don’t even notice Melissa a few feet away, laughing loudly at something Karey said.
“Ellen!” A pair of arms engulfs me from behind, and I turn to see Alex-from-League-City’s sweaty face hovering over my shoulder. “Nice to see you! How’d y’all’s game go?” He settles onto the ground behind me and gulps from a bottle of blue Gatorade. Other green-shirted players whose faces I vaguely recognize sit down with him. Karey turns to hug the League City captain.
“We lost.” I shrug, twisting to face him. “But not badly.”
“We were in snitch range,” Elizabeth adds, and a League City player whistles while Alex nods.
“Nice. I thought y’all would crash and burn for sure.” He leans up behind me and rests his head on my shoulder. “You’re coming to the post-tournament after-party, right?”
“Um, after-party?” I reach up to pat his hair, probably an awkward way to return his friendly affection, but oh well. The shiny combed-back waves crunch under my hand. Sweat drips down his face and onto my T-shirt.
“Yeah, Lisa and Alissa are hosting in their dorm. It’s going to be fun!”
I don’t know those people. I don’t know most of the people at this tournament. But Karey nods excitedly. “Yeah, you should stay.” She looks from me to Melissa. “You aren’t rushing back to anything, are you?”
“Um . . .” I got a break on my chore list for today, but that doesn’t mean that Connie won’t expect me home to help with some random project in the evening. “I’m not sure . . .” I didn’t know how long the games would last, so I don’t exactly have a time I need to be home, but I’m supposed to keep Dad and Connie updated about where I am.
“No,” Melissa interrupts, “I’m staying.”
“Awesome.” Karey’s smile splits her face.
I shrug, dislodging Alex’s head from my shoulder. “I guess I’m staying, then. That’s my ride.”
“Yay!” Alex chugs more of his Gatorade. “Okay, I’m going to pee. See you on pitch, my lovelies!” He kisses the air next to my ear. “We’re going to destroy you!” He skips away, grinning.