The lodge’s dining hall is set up buffet style, with massive trays of food being warmed by kerosene candles. Tables aren’t assigned, but I head for one toward the back right, and the rest of Lancaster’s team follows me. I set my water bottle on the varnished wood and head for the rapidly forming line. I end up behind Samantha Cole, the captain of one of Lancaster’s chief rivals. Despite that, we’ve always been friendly off the field, as evidenced by the warm grin she gives me.

“Hey, Scott.”

“Cole,” I reply, grabbing a plate and a roll of utensils.

“I don’t suppose you’ve suddenly started missing the net?”

“You’ll find out when we scrimmage,” I respond, helping myself to some salad.

She sighs. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Smart choice.”

“Hey, some of us are hitting the pool tonight, if you want to hang,” Samantha says as we shuffle along in line to the poutine.

“Sure, sounds fun,” I reply, studying the gray sludge covering the potatoes apprehensively.

Samantha misreads my interest. “I’ve been dreaming about these since last year. The chef said it’s the ketchup they add to the sauce…”

“Scott!” I groan when I recognize Coach Taylor’s voice calling my name and abandon my spot in line to walk over to where she’s standing a couple dozen feet away, next to the drink dispenser.

“Yes, Coach?”

“Do I need to be worried about you this season?” Coach Taylor fills a plastic cup with ice and then water, all while staring at me expectantly.

“Worried?” I echo.

“You were distracted all day.”

I don’t deny it. “Everyone has off days.”

“They do,” Coach acknowledges. “But I didn’t think the player who showed up to my practice with the flu last winter believed in off days.” I flush, and Coach’s voice softens a bit. “I’ve never had to place pressure on you, Saylor. Because you put it on yourself, and you excel. You’re heads and shoulders above any other player I’ve ever coached. I don’t want—”

“Hi, Elaine!” I look to the left and have to swallow a groan when I see Mackenzie Howard has appeared alongside us.

“Mackenzie.” Coach acknowledges her with a slight dip of her head. I can’t help but notice she doesn’t look thrilled to be addressed by her first name.

Mackenzie Howard is the current star of the women’s professional soccer league. She’s two years older than me, on a professional team, and takes great pains to remind me of both every time we interact. I typically find some way to mention the national championship Lancaster won my sophomore year. Against her alma mater her senior year.

“Saylor, how nice to see you,” Mackenzie says. “Can’t believe you’re a senior now! Two years on the Wolves have just flown by.” Yup, right on cue.