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On to the Next

May

T he Oklahoma half of the crowd joins us in a screamed rendition of the school’s ‘Orange and White’ chant. Maddie whoops, raising an arm to signal louder , and they obey, every word of the song echoing through McNeill Athletic Complex Field in Washington, DC.

On neutral ground, we stepped onto the field for semi-finals, poised to go up against number three ranked Galena Christian University from Vermont. I’m not the proudest of how I entered the game – definitely not at 100 per cent – but the atmosphere of this stadium, brand-new at least to us, started to work its magic in the second quarter. A strong finish, coupled with a second-half slump from GCU, was our propeller to the end of the match.

Maybe Colt isn’t here, but his absence didn’t make any difference in the crowd we brought in tonight: an Okie cheering section as large as five student sections, all waving their orange towels, this time emblazoned with the semi-final match logo, so hard and long their arms had to be on the verge of falling off. We built this, all season, and the payoff is finally here. Proof that our absolutely ridiculous plan somehow worked wonders for our lacrosse programme.

‘TO THE SHIP! WE’RE GOIN’, TO THE SHIP! WE’RE GOIN’, TO THE SHIP!’ the chant morphs, Jordan and I linking arms, bouncing up and down with the team as they jump all over us, screaming joyfully. The two of us grip one another tight as we share in the happy tears. One game left, just the one, until our college careers end forever, and we get to play in the College National Championship.

The final destination of the season will all come to a triumphant end in none other than Boston, Massachusetts, where we’ll play the championship match in a larger-than-usual field to accommodate for the excessive crowds this season. In past years the matches have been held at the University of Boston – Colt’s alma mater – soccer-field complex. Initially, that was the plan. But just weeks before the championship, the National College Lacrosse Association shifted the venue. This year, we will play the National Championship, or more fondly, the ‘Natty’, in the New England Bobcats’ CashMatch Stadium, home to the region’s professional football team. As in, Super Bowls, celebrity status, most-watched-sport-in-America professional football team. I’m still in shock when they put us up in the beautiful Hyatt in the centre of the city, just a ten-minute drive from the stadium. It’s like nothing we’ve ever experienced before.

‘And here ,’ proclaims Jordan as we all raise our mandated mocktails to the centre of the table at dinner in the hotel’s bougie restaurant later that night, ‘is to the very first Lady Riders team – no, the first Riders team, to ever play in a championship!’

I don’t know what our opponents for the big match – three-years-in-a-row champs, Augusta Tech University’s Clippers, from Maine – are doing right about now, but we don’t look anything like we’re gearing up for the biggest game any of us will ever play tomorrow.

We clink glasses with whoops all around, and a ‘Yes, ma’am!’ from Brianna that prompts us to turn her way.

‘So …’ Maddie begins diplomatically. ‘Bri, our hair game’s gonna be untouchable, tomorrow, I hope?’

Bri’s face breaks into a huge grin. ‘Just wait till you see the Pinterest board.’

About halfway through the dinner, the thus-far-banned topic of conversation crops up. ‘You know,’ mentions Paige around a bite of the delicious wings we ordered, ‘we’re only about two and a half hours from New Haven.’

All eyes around the table swivel towards me expectantly.

I did a pretty great job of deflecting about the entire thing, initially. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s keeping my personal life locked down, even in a tiny-ass town like Prosperity, where everyone’s noses are constantly in your business. But once the stuff started to flood social media, and Colt had to post that PR-mandated mess explaining our ‘peaceful parting of ways’, I kind of couldn’t keep the act up any longer. I mumbled some hasty shit about overwhelming differences and hoped that would satisfy the girls.

‘Guys, he’s at training camp,’ I tell them exasperatedly. ‘I am not going to New Haven. And he is not coming to Boston.’

‘Why not?’ Brianna asks, fiddling with her dark brown curls. ‘You clearly had it bad for one another.’

‘Ooooh,’ the team croons shamelessly. God. Can’t these girls let a breakup be a breakup?

‘Do any of y’all who went to Prosperity remember ,’ yapper Jordan starts as she leans forward dramatically, ‘when May had her quinceanera , and she chose that Dylan Wright to be her main chambelan ?’

I feel my cheeks heat up at the mere mention of the event. Okay, so I’d chosen Dylan. But I’d only chosen him because Colt, the dumbass, had his head so far up his butt he couldn’t tell he was giving me the most mixed signals in history around the time of my quince, and so all I could think about was how embarrassing it’d be if I asked him and he said no. Or worse – that he’d do it as a friend .

‘How could we forget?’ croons Maddie. ‘He wasn’t hotheaded, Colt, but when it came to May … he pulled out every stop.’

‘He looked like a cat straight out of the bathtub during May’s dance with Dylan.’ Jordan cackles, smacking my back so hard my soul almost jumps out of my body. ‘Sittin’ there all grouchy with his feathers ruffled while y’all promenaded .’

‘Put a lid on it, Jordan,’ I grumble and smack her right back. She just giggles uncontrollably. This girl hasn’t had a drop of alcohol all night, and she’s giggling. But this entire Colt/Dylan thing is news to me. Maybe it’s that the night of my quince was a whirlwind, and I probably blacked out on account of stress through most of it. Maybe I just didn’t pay attention. Either way, I’m rifling through my vague memories of the party all of a sudden, desperate for evidence. It takes too long for me to catch myself and realize that if I were truly over CJ Bradley, I wouldn’t be doing these mental gymnastics in search of signs from middle school .

I’m truly not over him.

‘I had y’all’s first-dance song picked out,’ Lexi raises her hand.

Lexi? LEXI? My jaw is literally slack. ‘Girl – you had what picked out, now?’

‘Oh, Lexi !’ Maddie claps her hands gleefully. ‘This is gonna be good.’

‘“Lady May”,’ says Lexi proudly. ‘Tyler Childers.’

Awwws ring out around the entire table, all corny smiles and goo-goo eyes and clasped hands.

‘But seriously, May.’ Jordan holds a hand out, and the girls gradually quiet down. ‘Are you … okay?’ The knowing in her eyes is a different kind from what the rest of the team has shown me over the past week, and they are truly sweet, each and every one of them, but only Jordan is aware what really went down between us. And only Jordan watched me go through what I did when he left the first time. ‘Not gonna run away to New Haven in the middle of the night?’ she teases gently. ‘Leave us high and dry for the natty?’

‘Nah.’ I manage to push a smile across my face. ‘I won’t.’

‘But are you doing alright?’

The smile wavers. Am I doing alright? I’m a little bit angry at everyone, including myself. I’m a little confused, and I’m a lot conflicted.

‘I’ll be okay,’ I tell her.

I need to be okay. I have a team to lead into battle in less than twenty-four hours.