The rest of the tryout consisted of some easy maneuvering drills and a few attempts to show us some plays—likely to weed out those of us who couldn’t follow simple directions.

After two hours, aches formed in places I didn’t know I had, and my shirt was dark with sweat.

“Good team play out there. It’s gonna be super important when they make their decisions.” Shanti appeared while I was loosening the laces on my skates. She knelt down next to me. “How’d it feel?”

I still felt weird about our last interaction by the bike racks but tried not to let it show. If I ignored it, hopefully she wouldn’t bring it up again. And I did feel good about my showing—I hadn’t backed down from any of the brutal stuff, nor had I made any big mistakes that I could tell. And I think I even showed I could be a decent teammate. I definitely felt I was in the top third of this group overall. But I didn’t want to sound like a dick, so all I said was, “Not bad,” and kept focusing on my laces.

“You seemed to match up well with Kat out there. Not many people can withstand her hits like that.” The words sounded like a compliment, but her voice seemed almost disappointed.

“You think?” I needed Kat to be impressed with me, but I was confused by the tone of Shanti’s voice. I looked at her. She was studying my face, which made me distinctly uncomfortable.

“Yeah. You two seem to have a lot in common.”

Again, this should have felt like a compliment, but didn’t. What was up with this girl?

I pulled off my skates and tried to ignore the terrifying sensation settling into my stomach—the one that wanted to understand her and know what she really thought of me. To know whether I’d impressed her. But I had to remind myself that I’d proven myself to Kat, which mattered the most right now, and that was enough. It had to be.

“Daya, your swing is too low. Straighten out, like this,” my dad said, taking the bat from me and nudging me aside. He took his stance and sliced the air in a deliberate, slow movement. “See? But you’re doing this.” He brought the bat back behind him and then swung it forward, dipping it at a ridiculous angle as though he were taking a golf swing.

I rolled my eyes. “Hardly, Thatha.”

He gave me a serious look and handed me the bat. “You get my point, though, huh?”

I sighed. “Yes.”