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The chant continues to ring out behind me as Paulina shouts, “You can do it! Use that little lobster claw and click!”

“I’m a lobster!” I yell, my finger still hovering above the keyboard.

“You’re a lobster!” they all echo.

“And you can do anything!” Jane adds.

Maybe it’s okay that I don’t totally believe it. Maybe I don’t have to. Maybe that’s what being a Lobster means—what being a friend means: believing in the people you love so much that they always find their way back to believing in themselves.

I click the button. My friends cheer.

I can do anything.

11

Hope

“I CAN DO ANYTHING!” I shout around my mouth guard as I hoist my stick in the air.

The words come out sounding more like ‘Ar ’an ’oo anyfink,’ but that doesn’t stop my teammates from understanding me. We’re all fluent in mouth guard-speak at this point.

Bailey taps her stick to mine as we set up for the game to resume. I just scored a where-did-that-even-come-from goal that brings us up to a four point lead. The crowd gathered on the bleachers is going nuts. We’re down to the last five minutes of the game, which means we’ve basically already declared victory.

I glance at the sidelines and see CJ signalling for everyone to keep their focus on the game. It’s not time to party just yet; stranger things have happened than a miraculous end-of-the-game turnaround.

Although I have to admit, my goal was pretty damn miraculous itself.

I catch sight of Becca, her red hair hanging in a thick braid down her back. It thumps against her jersey as she jogs into position. The two of us have been unstoppable today. Her pass is what set me up for my nearly impossible goal. It’s like I can sense where she’s going to be before she even gets there. We’ve always worked well as attackers together, but today we’re on fire.

Maybe we’ve got this all wrong. Maybe the whole team should be making out if it results in us playing this well.

The face-off grabs my attention and turns me into a single-minded machine. I watch the thrashing mass of sticks and limbs in the centre of the field like a lion waiting for its shot at the prey. My mind slows the movement down, tracking the ball amidst all the chaos, searching for the first sign of where it’s going to end up.

Now.

I sense it more than I see it. I haven’t even fully confirmed the ball is in our possession before I’m sprinting to where I need to be. Becca catches a pass from one of our midfielders and instantly gets swarmed by defenders. She lobs the ball out of the mess and over to Bailey. I tear up the field towards the opposing team’s goal, making sure I stay far enough ahead of her that she can see me.

The field is a red and blue-streaked blur of activity. They don’t call it ‘the fastest game on two feet’ for nothing. There is no standing around in lacrosse.

The ball pitches up and down the field a few times, getting snatched by the opposition and then reclaimed by us in a pattern that continues on and on for the next few minutes. The air smells like turf and sweat. My heart pounds in my ears, blocking every other sound. My whole body is flooded with adrenaline that brings the world around me into sharp definition.

I feel strong.

I feel capable.

I feel hungry.

I want the win so bad it’s like a gnawing in my stomach that fuels every breath I take. Ever since I submitted my internship application, I’ve been riding on a high that pushes me harder and takes me further in every part of my life. I’m tired of being scared and unsure. I’m tired of letting someone else’s words knock me on my ass.

Hope Hastings doesn’t sit around on her ass. Hope Hastings gets up and fights.

I grind my teeth against my mouth guard and take off sprinting up the field again, riding out the last few minutes of play. Our team doesn’t get another point in, but by the time the end of the game is signalled, we’ve kept the other team from scoring any more.

A six to two win for our first game in the season against one of the biggest schools in Canada.

As soon as it’s officially announced, the rest of the world rushes back into focus. The screaming of the crowd and my teammates is piercing, wild, and so joyful it makes my heart feel like it’s about to burst into Lobster-shaped confetti. I run as fast as I can to throw myself into the group hug collecting in the middle of the field.

I can do anything.