Page 46 of Spectacular Things
Sloane’s Call
In January, from the bench press in her high school weight room, Cricket doesn’t hear the Google alert chime on her phone amid the teenage groans and mechanical clanks.
Instead, she lowers the bar to her chest for another rep and envisions herself in goal next year, making a game-winning save while wearing Bruin blue and gold.
Winter in Maine is the perfect time to dream about Los Angeles sun—she cannot wait to be tan.
Ever since Cricket signed her letter of intent, the UCLA strength and fitness coach has sent her weekly workouts, which Cricket follows religiously.
Despite a wrestler impatiently waiting for a turn on the bench, Cricket stands and loads more weight to both sides of the bar.
Not only does she want to impress her teammates on the first day of preseason, but she also needs to eliminate all potential reasons why the UCLA head coach might play another goalkeeper over her.
Because that’s exactly what Teague did just last month, when she called to tell Cricket she would not receive an invitation to January Camp.
“I’ve got to get eyes on other keepers,” she’d said.
“I don’t need to tell you it’s about team dynamics, and leadership, and finding that special sauce between players as much as it is about individual talent. ”
Cricket had tried to sound gracious as her cheeks burned with embarrassment and rage.
It felt like a step back, like she was getting left behind before she’d even double-knotted her cleats.
But then Sloane had texted and, between entire rows of expletives, reported having just had the same conversation.
Despite their strong performances at previous National Team trainings, neither was invited to this year’s January Camp.
They agreed that the whole thing was trash, but at least they were getting left behind together.
Stretching on the mat, Cricket takes extra time rolling out her IT bands.
On her slow walk back to the locker room, she takes pride in the lactic acid built up in her quads and actively enjoys her endorphins high as she checks her phone.
But then Cricket reads the Google Alert again because it doesn’t make sense. How could ESPN get this so wrong?
Cricket skims through the notices, confused as to how there could be such a huge misunderstanding—unless there isn’t one. The truth congeals in her stomach like the oatmeal she ate this morning. Cricket reads each alert before she finally sees the text from Sloane: Pray for me! Xoxo!
Cricket closes Sloane’s text without replying and clicks on the newest Google Alert from The Athletic: Sloane Jackson has entered the draft for the National Women’s Soccer League.
Cricket grabs her stuff and slams her locker shut.
Instead of catching the late bus, she walks the two miles home and allows her envy to get the best of her.
While scrolling through the internet’s reaction to Sloane’s announcement, Cricket internalizes all the social-media enthusiasm around Sloane as a slight against herself.
“Buying season tickets for whichever team you join!” wrote one eager fan in the comments of Sloane’s post. “I’ll move states if I need to! ”
This was Sloane’s response to the January Camp snub. Going forward, she would make it impossible for Teague to ignore her. And because Cricket had outperformed her at the last camp, Sloane was now outplaying her off the field. Coach was right: Strategy is everything.
The late bus speeds by and spits yesterday’s runoff onto Cricket’s sneakers.
How could she have been so na?ve? Sloane has always understood the underlying dynamics of their relationship.
It’s why she never brought up the possibility of skipping Stanford during all their Sunday calls.
Maybe it’s why Sloane initiated their Sunday calls in the first place—to keep tabs on Cricket, her biggest threat.
“I saw,” Mia says, opening the door for Cricket. “But you’re making the smarter decision. You know that, right?”
Cricket’s eyes are glazed when she says, “We just talked on Sunday.”
“And?”
“I had to talk her out of sending laxative cookies to the keepers invited to camp, but she didn’t say anything about the draft.”
Cricket starts to untie her soaked sneakers, then stops, then starts again, then stops.
Tears she doesn’t quite understand keep blurring her vision and landing on her laces.
Mia watches her sister like she’s a movie caught between Play and Pause, a girl stuck in a glitch.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Cricket says, her fingers finally unthreading her shoelace.
She freezes, stunned all over again. Only her mouth moves as she whispers, “I’m so fucked. ”
“No, you’re not,” Oliver says, walking in the back door with a bag of groceries. He doesn’t even knock anymore. If she’s honest, Cricket doesn’t mind his presence so much as Mia’s starry-eyed preoccupation with his every movement.
“Anything could happen in the next four years,” Oliver continues, gesticulating with a baguette in his hand. “But you’re giving yourself the best shot, the biggest window for success.”
“Not if Sloane becomes a star,” Cricket argues. “And she basically already is.”
Oliver shakes his head, unbothered. “An influencer isn’t the same as a consistent player. And not to be callous, but she could get hurt or burn out,” he says. “Nothing is guaranteed.”
Sloane texts Cricket just then: Where’s my congratulations?!
Cricket flips her phone over and hides her face behind her hands. “I thought we were friends,” she says. “How stupid am I? I really thought we were friends.”
“But you are friends,” Mia argues. “You can push yourselves and still encourage each other.”
“Hey, Coach,” Cricket says, “can you tell Mary Poppins over here to get her head out of her carpetbag?”
As Mia opens her mouth for a rebuttal, Oliver cuts her off. “She’s got a point,” he says to Mia. “This does change things, at least for now.”
Then, turning to Cricket, Oliver asks, “So what makes a great goalkeeper?”
Cricket rolls her eyes. It’s the same question he asked when they first met.
“I’m serious,” Oliver says. “Or did you forget?”
“Fuck off,” Cricket says, mostly because she can get away with cursing at her coach now.
Or rather, she can curse at Oliver, because he’s no longer her coach—they won the championship the same weekend she lost the homecoming crown.
Besides, he’s in her house, dating her sister. “And fuck your MAP, too.”
Coach wags a finger playfully, tells her to think about it. He’s impossible to rile up these days and it’s all Mia’s fault. As much as Cricket tries to deny it, they are obviously, deeply, annoyingly in love.
“What map?” Mia asks, peeking her head out from the other side of the open refrigerator as she puts away a bushel of carrots.
“It’s an acronym,” Coach explains proudly. “Mentality, Adaptability, Patience: my MAP to being a goalkeeper.”
“Yeah, and your MAP is bullshit,” Cricket says, enjoying her profane petulance.
She holds up her phone and walks over to Coach, shakes the ESPN news alert in his face.
“Patience is overrated, brah. A sense of urgency is why Sloane is skipping college and why she’ll get called up to the National Team before I do. ”
“You’re playing the long game,” Coach responds. “Focus on your own growth.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying but no one listens to me!” Mia shouts before storming into the bathroom. She emerges with the Steve Prefontaine poster in her hands.
“I’m relocating him,” Mia says, adhering the poster to the back of the front door.
“From now on, every time you leave this house, you need to think about your gift. Not Sloane’s strategies but your gift, Cricket Lowe.
And you need to make sure you are giving your absolute best every time because that’s the one thing in your control.
That’s what Mom would say, and that’s what Steve would say, and that’s all that matters. ”
Coach begins a slow clap. Cricket frowns but stares at the poster and the words that she memorized all those years ago.
Mia is right. The only thing she can do is give her absolute best to soccer.
Sloane’s decision is just extra incentive for Cricket to stay focused on her own goals, to keep her friends close and enemies closer, especially if her enemies are her friends.
She and Sloane are ruthless brutes, ambitious witches, soccer players vying for the number-one spot.
If Sloane’s strategy is to go pro early, that’s fine, because Cricket’s strategy is to never sacrifice the gift.
She’s a Lowe, not a quitter.