“You coming?” Ana asked. She and Kyla were the last girls left in the locker room after practice.
Kyla paused. Lately, she had been staying at the ice rink as long as possible. She never felt like going home. “What day is it?” she asked.
“Wednesday,” Ana answered. “Why?”
Kyla sighed. “The day determines where I go, remember? Mondays and Wednesdays I’m at Mom’s, and Tuesdays and Thursdays I’m at Dad’s. The weekends switch. It’s so confusing.”
Kyla had to admit, though, both of her parents seemed happier in their new lives. They didn’t argue anymore, and her mom seemed to really like Tom.
But my life feels like a mess, Kyla thought as she pulled on her jacket. And now Mackenzie is skating circles around me out on the ice.
“Why does Mac have to be so perfect?” Kyla said out loud.
Ana shrugged. “She’s good. We’re lucky to have her on our team. It’s definitely better than having her as an opponent. Right?“
“I guess,” Kyla muttered. “But she might not be on our team for long if she makes varsity.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to worry about varsity,” said Ana. “No way does Coach Rafferty need another backup goalie. But you shouldn’t worry about it, either. Either you’ll make varsity, or you get to keep playing with me on JV. Win-win.”
Kyla gave a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, I suppose,” she said.
But as they headed for the door, Kyla couldn’t help but worry. She wanted a spot on the varsity team more than anything. She needed at least one good thing in her life.
* * *
“Please pass the spaghetti,” Kyla said. She was starving after practice and was already on to seconds.
“You know, Kyla, I was watching you out there today,” Tom said. He reached for the pot of spaghetti, balanced it in his hands, and kept talking. “And I think you need to multiply your concentration.”
“Multiply my concentration?” Kyla repeated. She felt her mom’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.
“You have to concentrate on the puck, obviously. But you also have to concentrate on the goal. And you always need to know where your opponents are. And your teammates.” Tom grinned. “See? Concentration multiplied!”
“Please pass the spaghetti, Coach,” Kyla said.
“How did your algebra test go today?” Mom broke in.
“A lot of multiplication,” Kyla snapped, taking the pot from Tom. She scooped some spaghetti onto her plate and scarfed it down. “May I be excused?”
Without waiting for a reply, Kyla shoved off her chair and ran to her room. She didn’t even try to start her homework. She just flopped onto her bed, pulled out her phone, and clicked on Ana’s number.
“Hey!” Ana answered. “What’s up?”
“Ugh, I just needed to vent. Tom was here for dinner again,” Kyla explained.
“Again? Sounds like he’s practically moving in,” Ana said.
Kyla groaned. “I hope not. Mom’s only been dating him for two months. But they seem pretty serious.”
“So how did dinner go?” Ana asked. “Did Tom offer any helpful tips on your technique?”
Kyla rolled her eyes. “Of course he did, and they were so helpful. He is beyond annoying. Maybe I should ask if I can just stay at Dad’s forever.”
“That seems drastic,” Ana said. “Maybe you could just talk to Tom and tell him how you feel.”
“No way!” Kyla protested. “He wouldn’t listen to a word I say. He’d be too busy thinking of ways to criticize my game.”
“Well . . . how about talking to your mom?” Ana suggested.
“No, I don’t want to make her feel bad,” Kyla said. “But I’ll be at Dad’s tomorrow. Then I won’t have to think about Tom. All I’ll have to do is decide what I want on my pizza for our weekly movie night.”
At that thought, Kyla’s mood brightened. She couldn’t wait to be eating pizza and watching a movie with her dad, escaping from all her worries about Tom and making varsity.