We’d been told at the end of the second tryout that we’d receive a text by Thursday letting us know if we’d made the team. Based on my performance, I thought I had a decent chance. But I couldn’t be sure. A lot of those other people were faster than me, some more experienced, and I still wasn’t convinced that being a supportive teammate was as impressive as crushing the competition. On top of that, I could only guess at how Kat might rank me, despite what Shanti had said, and I was fairly sure her vote would count the most.

I hated that I wanted this so badly but had no idea how it would go. It all felt a little too pathetic, and needing a distraction, I’d texted Fee to see if they would hang out with me Thursday after school. They’d enthusiastically agreed to meet up once they were done work and then take me to their queer ball hockey game. Likely part of their enthusiasm was linked to their attempts to make me join the team as well, but I didn’t care as long as I had something to do that night.

By the end of the school day, I hadn’t received any messages from the Honeys, and all I wanted to do was take my mind completely off my phone. When Fee picked me up from my place, I explained that I wanted to throw my phone out the car window.

Fee just smiled and said, “Give it to me.”

“What?”

“Gimme your phone. Now.”

I handed it over.

They pulled to the side of the road and turned the sound off on my cell. Then they tucked it into their back jeans pocket. “There. Now if you want to look at it, you’ll have to touch my ass. I know that just makes it extra enticing, but try touching my butt and see what happens.” They fake-glared at me and drove away from the curb.

I smiled and shook my head.

When we arrived at the gym, Fee shoved my phone into their bag and said I could only look at it after the game. This would be painful, but I appreciated it.

A row of metal chairs lined one wall of the gym, and I made my way over to sit in one of them and watch the game. Fee waved at me from their team bench and did a little dance, pointing to their helmet, elbow and kneepads, and mouth guard. I pretended to scratch my forehead with my middle finger.