Normally, I dread film sessions. I understand the importance of them strategically, but I’d much rather be making the motions myself. Today is an exception. I sink down on the cool plastic chair with a relieved sigh. The slightly damp, musty scent permeating the lowest level of the stadium has never been my favorite, but the cooler temperature more than makes up for it. I redo my ponytail, scraping up the wayward strands sticking to the back of my neck with the rest of my hair and allowing the colder air to hit my heated skin uninterrupted.

The film session lasts for two hours, and then Coach Weber announces we’re heading outside. The announcement is greeted with total silence. I wasn’t kidding when I told Beck’s mother Coach Weber is a drill sergeant. We fall into line like dutiful, uncomplaining soldiers as we trek through the hallways and out into the oppressive heat. The air hits in a wave of warmth like an oven door that’s just been opened.

“Shit, it’s hot,” Ellie mutters beside me.

“You think?” I murmur back.

We run through our usual warm-up routine of sit-ups, planks, burpees, and push-ups. I’m soaked with sweat by the time we finish the last set.

“Center line,” Coach Weber barks. “Usual teams.”

The silence holds, but Alexis huffs out a disbelieving breath to my right. Her face is the same shade as strawberry lemonade. We all follow instructions, taking our usual positions on the field. I turn to see one of the assistant coaches wheeling out two giant trash bins. That’s new.

“Are those for vomit?” Alexis asks, sounding aghast.

My stomach churns at the thought. I’ve thrown up during practice before. Not an experience I’d love to replicate. But when the bins are close enough for us to get a glimpse inside, I don’t see a generic black bag. Instead, it’s filled with color. An explosion of it, really.

The bins are filled with a rainbow array of balloons.

“First team fully soaked loses,” Coach Weber announces in the same authoritative tone that normally encourages running at an inhuman pace.

“Wh—what?” Ellie stutters beside me, and I’m equally at a loss. Everyone else is just as taken aback, but we’ve all had listening to our coach drilled into us to the point that it’s permanently impressed. Alexis grabs a yellow balloon; I take a blue one, and soon everyone has one in hand. I roll the sphere in the palm of my hand, feeling the liquid contents squish and contract underneath the latex skin.