Page 45 of Spectacular Things
Intent
Even though UCLA’s head coach has been an enthusiastic pen pal for over a year, Cricket has barely spoken of their conversations to anyone. Not even Mia. She can’t afford to jinx her future.
Behind an eight-foot-long table in Victory High School’s gym, Cricket sits at center court, tapping her lucky pen on the top of her leg, eager to sign already. She is not alone. Flanking her are four other seniors who have also secured full athletic scholarships.
A university banner hangs behind each student, broadcasting their new identity in bold colors and Latinate mottos.
The five student athletes are dressed to coordinate with their school banners—crimson, purple, green, orange, blue, and gold.
The resulting aesthetic is that of a discombobulated rainbow.
At this special all-school assembly, the principal refers to the National Letter of Intent as a contract, but Cricket views it as more permanent than a binding document and more profound than legal jargon.
The NLI is an oath to everyone she loves: She hereby swears to give her best and never sacrifice the gift her mother gave her.
The gift Mia has protected with her own sacrifice.
The gift Coach helped her to hone before seducing her sister and ruining their plan.
Cricket shakes the thought out of her head. She fidgets with the zipper of her new Bruins pullover. This, too, was a gift, which means it came with a cost: acceptance.
Yesterday, a refrigerator-size cardboard box appeared on the front porch first thing in the morning.
It was too cumbersome to move inside, so Cricket grabbed a knife and opened it right there on the front porch while Mia attempted to keep out of her way.
In the weeks since Mia’s decision to stay east, things had become slightly more civil.
Cricket had implemented two rules: Coach was not welcome at the house, and Mia was banned from all Stallions events.
A note was taped to the top of the box. Someone had hand-delivered it before sunrise.
Cricket—
She froze, immediately recognizing Coach’s clear, assertive handwriting.
“Did you know about this?” Cricket yelled into the kitchen, but Mia shook her head as she rushed over to see.
In record time, Cricket hate-read the note and was appalled to discover a deep fondness spreading across her chest and creeping up her neck.
Like a rash, it developed against her will and made her itch.
And yet, it was Coach, her Coach, and so she read the note again and surrendered to the emotional fallout:
Cricket—
You have worked so hard for this. It’s no coincidence that this special day falls on such a significant one. While your mom surely meddled with the calendar gods to show her support, mine is represented here. I look forward to watching your star continue to rise at UCLA. Congratulations, Keeper.
With admiration and respect,
Coach/Oliver
Inside the box appeared to be the entire contents of the UCLA campus store.
Cricket couldn’t help but laugh as she began to unpack the items while Mia came out to the porch and gawked over her shoulder.
The man had lost his mind. Inside the box were four UCLA sweatshirts, eight T-shirts, five pairs of shorts, two pairs of sweatpants, six pairs of leggings, ten tank tops, two canvas totes, a Bruins water bottle, a hat, a visor, a vest, a glorified fanny pack, ten pairs of socks, a pair of blue Air Jordans with gold laces (what? !), and one—
“What the—” Mia marveled.
Cricket’s eyes twinkled as she opened the golf umbrella. “Why would I need this in L.A.?”
“You don’t need any of it,” Mia pointed out.
Cricket nodded and turned her back so Mia couldn’t see her face.
She was still upset about the sneaking around, and scared for Mia if the relationship fizzled out, but right then, standing on the porch with a box full of Bruins gear she and Mia could never have afforded themselves, Cricket felt so seen by Coach that she began to cry.
He understood better than anyone what Signing Day signified.
After all, he had once signed a letter of intent himself.
Cricket texted Coach right then and invited him to the ceremony.
He responded a minute later with a meme of Alyssa Naeher, the current U.S. Women’s National Team goalkeeper, making a great save with a message in all caps: WOULDN’T MISS IT!
Now, sitting at center court in her high school gym, Cricket looks down at her outfit and immediately thinks of an overdressed mannequin.
She is decked out in her Bruins soccer T-shirt, zip-up, visor, leggings, socks, sneakers, and fanny pack.
In fact, the only thing that isn’t blue and gold is the lucky red ribbon tied around Cricket’s high bun.
When Principal Tattersall gives Cricket the okay to sign her letter of intent, Cricket doesn’t hesitate to scrawl her full name. She feels both an overwhelming sense of pride and an immense swell of relief. This is the next step. She is on her way.
In the overheated gym, Cricket sees her future gleaming in the freshly waxed hardwood floor—pristine fields and plane rides, ambitious teammates and double overtimes.
She’s heading toward a whole universe of possibilities, which only serves to highlight how tiny Victory, Maine, really is and how small Cricket’s world has always been until now.
The ceremony ends with a thunderous round of applause from otherwise unenthusiastic teenagers.
In the front row, Mia and Coach jump up to give a standing ovation as Principal Tattersall shakes Cricket’s hand with both of his.
A photographer from the Portland Press Herald prowls around the perimeter of the gym, snapping candids for tomorrow’s front page.
“She would be so proud,” Mia says, eyes filling as she pulls Cricket in for a hug.
“Congratulations, Cricket,” Coach says. He is dressed up, having come straight from his new job as associate director of athletics and head coach of women’s soccer at the University of Southern Maine. His tie might be for work, but Coach is here for her.
“Nice OOTD,” he quips, because he does spend a large chunk of each day around adolescent females and is thus familiar with their favorite acronyms. Mia, however, is not, and shoots him a bewildered look. “Outfit of the Day,” Oliver explains. “Obviously.”
Cricket laughs because it’s funny. And she keeps laughing because crying wouldn’t be appropriate at such a joyous occasion. Even though today is also the hardest day.
Because out of the 365 days that comprise a year, what are the chances that Cricket’s National Letter of Intent Signing Day would fall on November ninth?
This morning, the universe—and the NCAA—and TitleIX—promised Cricket a fresh start and a free ride exactly three years after her mother’s life ended.
Three years since Mia showed up at her soccer game in Massachusetts.
Three years since her sky shattered and her world went black.
The timing is beautiful and devastating and a clear sign from her mom that this is Cricket’s destiny.
After the ceremony, Cricket goes to fourth-period Statistics and finishes out the school day.
That night, Coach and Mia surprise her with takeout from her favorite Japanese place and cookies from the best bakery in Portland.
It’s after eleven p.m. when Mia pulls out the trunk of frilly dresses from their mom’s closet and asks Cricket if she’s ready.
The sisters walk down to the ocean in silence, wind blowing against their bare legs and through their puffy, off-the-shoulder sleeves. They don’t need a polar plunge to reset; their lives are already changing rapidly and heading in vastly different directions.
But this is for their mom.
A tradition for each other.
At midnight, Cricket and Mia jump in—not to move forward, but to hold still.
To holdon.