It’s our big night. We’re officially moving up to the Eagles travel team. Kenna comes over after school to get ready for the meeting.

“Keep your eyes closed, or you’ll ruin the surprise,” I tell her, pulling her toward my closet.

Kenna jiggles her feet. Her dark curls jiggle too. She was quiet at school today, but there’s nothing to worry about. Everyone on the team knows my family. Evan and Cody were Eagles in middle school. I’ve known Coach Spence practically my whole life. He’s a serious coach. It won’t be like rec league, with games of dodgeball and Steal the Bacon at the end of practices. Our teammates will be some of the best wrestlers in Maryland.

Hanging on the closet door are two Wonder Woman wrestling singlets, red with the yellow W logo. Singlets are one-piece uniforms, a spandex combination of a bathing suit and bicycle shorts.

I squeeze Kenna’s hand. “Now,” I say.

Her dark eyes flutter open. They widen in surprise until they’re as round as gobstoppers. “Wow.”

I do not hear exclamation points. I do not hear hearts, or grins, or any other kind of emojis in Kenna’s flat “Wow.”

“Awesome, right?” I ask, hoping she loves the singlets so much that she’s gone into shock. “My mom found them,” I hurry to explain. “She said they’ll give us wrestling superpowers.”

Kenna gapes at me. “We’re not wearing these for real, Mickey. Tell me we’re not.”

“Don’t you like them?”

She reaches out to stroke the smooth spandex. “Sure. For fun.”

“Of course!” For a second, I thought Kenna hated the singlets. “They’re not for competition, obviously. We’ll have royal-blue singlets with the Eagles logo. But we could wear these to practice.”

“I don’t know.” Kenna frowns. “It was super nice of your mom, but they’re a little babyish.” She rushes to get her thoughts out before I can argue with her. “We’re in middle school. We’ll probably be the only girls on the team again. We should try to fit in. They’re kind of…”

Wonderful? Amazing? I think.

“Loud,” says Kenna.

I cross my arms and scowl at the singlets, but really I want to scowl at Kenna. I was excited about wearing something special to our meeting. Even if no one else saw the yellow W, it would make me feel brave and strong instead of worried and awkward about joining a new team, not to mention worried and awkward about wearing a sports bra under my singlet for the first time. Kenna’s mom took us shopping last week. I don’t really need a sports bra, but Kenna sure does.

For a second, a thought flashes through my head. Maybe we should have stayed on rec with Coach Brandon. We were two of the best wrestlers on his team, the Mustangs. If one of the boys teased us about wearing sports bras, superhero singlets, or anything else, they’d end up pinned to a wrestling mat by not one, but two girls.

But I blast the thought of Coach Brandon and the Mustangs out of my head. I am determined to be an Eagle like my brothers. Dad says if I make it through this season, he’ll sign up to be an assistant coach next year. Then he’ll have to spend more time with me.

Kenna nudges me, but I’m not about to smile. “We can be Wonder Women on the inside,” she says. “That’s where it counts, right?”

“I guess.” I hand her a hairbrush. Kenna sits on the end of my bed and I settle onto the floor.

I wish Kenna were my sister. My brothers’ idea of affection is a swift punch in the arm. Cody can barely sit still long enough to talk to me. And I hardly see Evan since he moved in with Dad over the summer.

“Why am I braiding your hair?” Kenna asks. “I thought we weren’t wrestling tonight.”

I nod. “It’s just a meeting. Coach will go over sportsmanship rules and introduce all the new kids. Don’t be afraid of him. He only sounds like he’s going to explode.”

Kenna catches my eye in the long mirror next to my closet, raising her eyebrows at me.

I point to a picture of my favorite Olympic wrestler taped to the glass. “Four Dutch braids, please. Like hers.”

She leans down to rest her chin on top of my head. “Are you sure we’re ready?” she asks. “Wrestling in rec league was fun, but the travel kids are going to crush us.”

“No way,” I say. “We’ve got this.”

“I don’t know. Remember what Coach Brandon said? Starting travel is like moving up to middle school. We’re going to be the new kids again. We’re going to lose. You hate losing.”

“Maybe we’ll lose at first. But it won’t last forever. We’re strong. I only gave up three matches last season.”

She rolls her eyes at me, so I elbow her knee.

“Still,” Kenna says, “are you moving up to travel because you love wrestling, or because your brothers love wrestling?”

Wrestling is my family’s thing. When my parents divorced, Dad put all his attention on wrestling. He’s the one who takes my brothers to their weekend tournaments and signs them up for summer camps with famous wrestlers. Mom said the only way I’d get to spend time with him was if I went along to watch my brothers compete. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to be a wrestler like Evan and Cody, like my dad was in high school. It’s in my DNA.

I study Kenna’s hair in the mirror. Kenna is biracial. She looks like both her parents. Her hair isn’t straight like her mom’s or thick and wiry like her dad’s. It’s a jumble of tight brown curls, a shade darker than her skin.

I don’t look anything like my dad, with his red hair and sharp jaw. He says I’m Mom’s Mini-Me. My hair’s plain brown and straight. I have her brown eyes. The only thing that stands out about me is Mom’s cleft chin. And her dimples, but only when my smile is really big, and smiling like that shows off my braces. No thanks.

I wish I had Dad’s red hair, like Evan, instead of looking so average.

I sigh and smile at Kenna. “I’ve dreamed of being an Eagle my whole life.”

She wraps an elastic around the last braid. “Kids at school are going to think we’re weird.”

“They’ll think we’re awesome!”

I pop a bicep. Kenna closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“You promised,” I remind her. “When we signed up for Eagles, you said you were all in.”

I jump up to get a closer look in the mirror at the four fat braids running from my forehead to my neck and down my back. “Perfect!”

“Dickinson isn’t like elementary school,” Kenna says.

“It’s middle school. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know what I expected.” She falls back on my bed. “It’s hard work.”

There’s something I’m not getting. Lately, when it comes to Kenna, it’s like I know the first steps of a math equation but can’t figure out how to finish the problem. She’s met a bunch of new kids. She keeps inviting them to sit with us at lunch, as if we’re interviewing girls to be our friends. Is that what she means by hard work? Because it feels like it to me. Things are easier when it’s the two of us.

I pull on her arm. “Promise me you won’t quit.”

Delgados aren’t quitters, but Kenna’s not a Delgado. Sometimes she needs convincing. “We don’t care what anyone says about girl wrestlers, remember? We have each other. We’re Wonder Women. Even if we don’t wear the singlets.”

“I guess. As long as we stick together,” Kenna says.

“Best friends and wrestling partners forever.” Makenna and Mikayla at school. Kenna and Mickey on the mat.