Page 54 of Anatomy of Us

Two of our players tackle Iris into a hug before she gets there. Soon the whole team piles in front of the traveling supporters, jumping and shouting.

But what stuns me isn’t that celebration. It’s the other one. Quieter. Easy to miss. The cameras won’t catch it.

Jade Herrera runs to Zoe. Not to Iris. Straight to Zoe.

She hugs her. Quick, tight, no time for more—because Iris comes flying in, launches onto both of them, and takes them down, yelling something I can’t make out but I’m almost sure shouldn’t be said around Wesley.

The rest of the team crashes on top. Arms. Legs. Joy. A beautiful mess.

I try to swallow my tears.

I fail.

The last five minutes crawl.

Portland throws everyone forward. Corners. Free kicks. Desperate shots from every angle. Our defense holds. Lucía defends like her life depends on it. Jamie clears balls that look impossible.

Zoe drops to help. It isn’t her natural spot, but it doesn’t matter. She closes space, intercepts, barks instructions loud enough I hear them from the bench.

Four minutes of stoppage time.

Three.

Two.

One.

Final whistle.

Win.

1–2.

Final bound.

The team collapses in the center of the stadium. Hugs, screams, tears. Even Hades, who almost never shows emotion, gets pulled into it.

Zoe breaks from the group. She finds me with her eyes and smiles.

**

The locker room is chaos.

Champagne nobody can explain—because Iris finds it, and nobody asks questions. Music blasting. Players singing songs someone on the team probably invented years ago.

The noise dips when Hades walks in.

“Good match,” she says, like it’s a grand speech.

Two words. For her, that’s a novel.

“Now rest. We have a week to prep for the final.”

She pauses. Looks at Iris, who still grips the champagne bottle.

Hades rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she doesn’t say a word.

“Showers. I want all of you on the bus in an hour.” She cuts her gaze toward Iris. “Sober.”