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Lennie and Jamie-Lee were on talking terms again.

After several meaningful, slightly awkward stares shared between the corner group in French class, Dylan was back to shoving his foot against Jamie's lower back through the gap in the desk chair. Jamie jumped in surprise the first time, and looked back to find Dylan smirking at him. Jamie slapped his leg and glanced at Rosalie, who was trying without success to hide her smile of accomplishment.

That day as they all headed for the lunch room for study hall, Jamie-Lee fell in step with Rosalie, books resting against his hip. "I know it's, like, a ways until Homecoming, but... color schemes?" he asked, and Rosalie was almost too thrilled by the confirmation of their going together that she nearly forgot to respond.

They discussed outfits—Jamie would be wearing a button up and slacks (easy enough) and Rosalie was TBD—until Rosalie's phone buzzed in the breast pocket of her blazer. She lifted it out and found a panicked message from Sami declaring that he needed her presence in the art wing ASAP.

"I need to go help Sami," she said, pointing off in the direction of the art department.

Jamie flashed her finger guns before rotating them towards the soccer guys and spinning to head that way. Rosalie shook her head with a smile and hurried past Ray and Juliana, insisting that she'd be right back after helping Sami.

Rosalie spent a fair amount of time in the art wing considering she'd only taken one art class because it was one of several electives students were able to chose from. Sami had cruised through just about every art class available before settling on AP Art Studio this year. He had a twenty-five piece portfolio to accumulate by the end of spring, and he wasn't about to let a bit of procrastinating get in his way. It was why Sami had been painting to his heart's content during study hall when Miss Calhoun's ceramics class was in full swing.

Rosalie knocked on the door and leaned in past the foggy windowpane. Miss Calhoun was dressed in a pinstriped pantsuit covered in flecks of dried clay, and her massive, round dome of ginger hair swayed as she turned to greet the visitor.

"Rosalie! Lovely to see you," she said with a flourish. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Miss Calhoun. Is Sami around?" she asked, and was directed to the narrow hall connecting the kiln room to the painting room. No lights were on, and so Rosalie navigated through the dark before reemerging on the other side.

The room was vaulted with exposed air ducts and tall, narrow windows that made the strips of wall appear like cell bars. There, she found Sami perched on a chair, leg tucked underneath him, leaning over a drafting table with a charcoal pencil. The room was empty all except Sami, and now Rosalie as she wandered across the open.

"Rosie-girl—sit up there," he declared, patting a hand on the stone. "Art gave me an idea."

"Art? You two been talking?" she asked, curious as she relaxed back against the window, knees up.

"No, but I got a good look at his photos. I mean, most of them are documentary, but I like the idea of capturing the essence."

Rosalie nodded though she understood little. "Uh-huh, sure Bob Ross," she said.

"I'm serious! What say you to a twelve-piece portrait show? And I'd paint all my friends," he said.

"It might get boring."

"Right, right—which is why I'd make it documentary. And I'd borrow Dad's camera and take pictures of you all in your natural habitat," he said. "And I was thinking—'Well, that could get messy' because how do you tie in a dozen different natural habitats, you know? So I'd give them all the same color scheme, or maybe make them monochromatic but shift through the rainbow."

"I like the same color scheme option. Rainbow might get too extra, you know what I mean? This isn't a Facebook profile filter we're talking about," she said, and Sami nodded hurriedly, uncapping a pen to scratch away 'Rainbow' from his sheet of paper. "What does Miss Calhoun think of it?"

"She loves it. But she loves everything. But I think she really loves this one, and I'm excited about it," he confessed, and gave her a teasingly bashful smile. "I was thinkin' you could be my first subject?"

Rosalie's smile said it all. Sami threw up his arms in victory. She suggested her bedroom, against the brick wall, and Sami was all for it. He wrote it down and asked when she'd want to do it, and she said, "Tonight after practice? No, even better—immediately after practice. And then I'll put on all my gear and pretend to be taking off my shinguards."

"You're a goddamn genius, Rosie-girl," Sami said, and followed up by singing, "A god-damn gen-ius!"

"It'll be called 'A Day In The Life'," she joked, hands splayed.

"'Rosalie's Routine'."

"'Standard'."

"'Social Standard' a commemorative series!" Sami screeched, and they slapped hands on it. "By God, we've done it!"

While they screeched and hollered like animals in the wild discussing the social imperative society pushes outside of the spotlight unto its victims, Sami furiously wrote everything down in preparation for his project. She scooted up closer to see his neat, hybrid-cursive lettering and took a moment to appreciate who Sami was becoming. She could hardly believe that they spent last spring in the Nation 4H Conference Center as the announcer listed off his batch of Silver and Gold Keys.

He started lifting off names, and immediately after Rosalie came Isaiah. Rosalie glanced up at his expression, and remembered what Joanna had said. Maybe the bets were right in that Sami was gay, but she knew his reasoning for not tampering with topics involving that. If he wanted to come out, he'd do it himself and without the pressure of the entire school's wallet.

He wrote Betsy Griffin after Isaiah, followed by Ray Hartley and Juliana Lane. He added Mark Villanueva from swim, and then promptly whined that he didn't have a dozen friends to paint.

"Then just do two of each," she suggested.

"What would I do without you?" he said, and added a "x2" beside each of their names. "Okay. Perfect. Then it's settled!"

Rosalie left shortly after, leaving Sami to his musings. Study hall comprised of finishing homework to leave her evening free for practice and Sami's photoshoot, so she set to work as soon as she collapsed into the bench beside Juliana and pulled out her Anatomy textbook side-by-side with notecards Sami made the previous year.

He took anatomy to satisfy his father's adamant passion for Sami one day going to medical school, but really, Sami took it for the sake of perfecting his drawings. He scored a place in a gallery downtown because of an incredibly realistic charcoal drawing of a nude model from last summer (his mother permitted him to take summer drawing courses and they claimed he was taking something to do with infectious diseases at a community college).

Suffice to say, though, Sami's anatomy notebook was a goddamn museum of artwork. Rosalie memorized the shape of them, and the stippled shading on the sinew, and passed it on to Juliana as she read off the term on the opposite side of the card. Juliana gave her a thumbs up.

Near the end bell, Rosalie started jotting down rows of French in her notebook for an assignment due the following day. She walked to the locker room, notebook pressed to her forearm, and pen still in hand. She tapped her pen thoughtfully on her chin, murmuring the word beneath her breath before recalling the spelling structure. She punctuated the end of the assignment with a sharp period before snapping her notebook shut and clipping her pen to the spine of it. She swung her backpack off her shoulders and placed it inside before unlocking her locker and tossing it in. She plucked her cleats up and set them out onto the bench.

After unzipping her duffle and unearthing fresh socks and clean shorts, she shimmied out of her shirt and unlooped her bra straps. She slipped her sports bra over the top before unclasping the bra and chucking it into her duffle.

"Are we wearing jerseys tomorrow?" Brynn asked from behind her, facing her own open locker. "I really hope so. I don't want to dress up tomorrow."

"God, neither do I," Ray whined.

"I'm fine with jerseys. I figured we could figure that out during warmups," Rosalie said.

They wound up out on the field before long, and after one last loop around the track, everyone gathered on the blue-and-silver striped stands of the soccer field. Coach Maguire had a notebook in her hands with a printed sheet of paper settled on top of it. Rosalie's heart hummed in her chest, thrilled at the sight. It was this moment that would trigger her excitement for tomorrow, constantly anticipating what tomorrow's game would bring.

"Dalby—you'll be goalie," Coach said, and everyone turned to where Joanna and Jade were sat beside one another. Joanna couldn't seem to care less—she was slouched back with her forearms on the bench behind her. She raised her hands in a so-what manner. Rosalie turned back forward, a bit unsettled that Coach even needed to say anything now. Until now, they hadn't had a goalie better than Jade, or any other goalie for that matter. Jade Dalby was a no-brainer until now.

"Mason, centre-forward. McAllister's right wing, Hartley left."

Ray clapped hands with Erin and Rosalie, who could already feel the excitement buzzing inside of her. This meant practice would be entirely composed of her in her favorite position.

"Sakamoto and Simons as defenders," she finished, and Rosalie looked back at where Jordan Sakamoto, veteran of the JV team, clapped hands with Lu. Kim sat near her, looking pallid despite her dark complexion. She stared ahead, and then at Rosalie as Coach asked, "Any questions?"

Rosalie blinked, and then registered that Alyssa Maddox's hand shot up. Coach pointed to her.

"Should we really put two first-years on defense?" she asked, and the tone of her voice suggested that she would be a better option. Rosalie couldn't argue, but based on Hell Week, and then practices leading up to the end of summer, it was hard to ignore how great Sakamoto and Simons were as first years on varsity.

To the great disappointment of longterm defender, Alyssa Maddox. She was being replaced and didn't like it one bit.

"We'll be facing Adams next Tuesday. You'll be in then," Maguire reassured. "But for now, our strikers are only as good as our scrimmage defenders, so I want you to give me your best today."

Alyssa crossed her arms and stifled a pout. Rosalie frowned because that meant not only would she and the remaining offensive team be facing off against a pissy Maddox, but also Joanna Spencer on top of that.

Ray pushed a hand over her face and moaned, "So this is Hell, huh?"

Since the past several practices, the team had gotten as used to Joanna as they could manage given the short window they were given to grow accustom to the change. The only other goalie Rosalie could think of that was as good as Joanna had already graduated from Adams High and had a contract signed for five years at NYC.

It hadn't even occurred to Rosalie until then that she had competition when it came to recruiters. Granted, recruiters looking for a goalie were different from recruiters looking for a striker, but Rosalie wanted to throttle herself for it. Joanna would take all the glory before long, and leave the rest of the girls in her shadow whether she wanted to or not. Her sheer level of skill was just too much to compete with, and the fact that she emerged just now senior year made her story even more of a legacy. She hopped in after summer practice tournaments, and therefore would be unknowable before her first game.

USW was looking for a goalie last I read, she realized, paling. All their eyes would be on Joanna. Rosalie could kiss her high hopes of playing for Seattle goodbye.

Everyone was on their feet around her before she could process it. She blinked, pushing her bangs back. She tucked them beneath her prewrap headband and cleared her throat before rising. The girls were talking about jerseys for tomorrow, but Rosalie could no longer focus. She did this to herself by goading Joanna along.

"Hey," Ray said, patting her on the back. "You good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head. "Let's just... get to work."

Maguire pulled the leading lineup together for a talk about tactics for the game. Rosalie just barely managed to chalk it all up to her memory, and hoped she wouldn't fuck up in practice and be accused of being unfit for the game. She wouldn't be able to stand seeing Juliana take her place, not when this was her last chance to catch Seattle's eye.

There won't even be any recruiters at the Highlanders game, she rationalized, walking out onto the field. Stop worrying about it. Juliana isn't your enemy, either.

They assembled into makeshift teams—Rosalie's being the leading lineup for tomorrow, and the other comprised of the remainder of the team. Juliana faced off in front of her in center court as Rosalie tugged on a bright blue vest. Juliana scraped her foot on the ground and said in a fake, scathing voice, "You're goin' down, Mason."

"Oh really now?

"Yes, really."

"We'll see about that," Rosalie declared, pressing the ball forward with the heel of her cleats.

Maguire blew the whistle, and Rosalie sent the ball off to Ray. She ran for the goal, skirting around Juliana, who cut between her and her view of Ray. Ray took the ball out down the left touchline and sent it rocketing across the field to Jordan, who leapt away from Brynn to fetch it. She took a running kick at the penalty line, only to have the ball deflected by Joanna lunging with both arms out to catch the ball.

Joanna rolled up to her feet and threw the ball, calling to Maddox. Rosalie sprinted full force to intercept it, sliding across the grass. She kicked it out to Erin, who ricochetted it into the goal behind where Joanna was recovering from seeing Rosalie come out of nowhere.

"Lane! Eyes on Mason!" Maguire shouted as Rosalie stood up, brushing bits of grass off her calves.

If she could take Joanna on, then she'd have no problem winning Seattle's favor.

When she turned back around to head to center court, Alyssa was glaring daggers at her. Rosalie narrowed her eyes, and walked past. Alyssa butted her shoulder up against Rosalie's and offered a fake, cutting smile before heading off to her own position. Rosalie ran a hand through her ponytail and flicked it sharply over one shoulder as she crossed the center line and turned back around to face Juliana.

She could be better than Joanna. She'd be unstoppable then.

n/a: No drawing this time around D: