“It’s just an idea, honey.” Frankie watched as her daughter clomped noisily to the top of the aluminum tip-and-roll bleachers set up at the edge of the soccer field. At the far end a pair of well-dressed women turned to see who was making so much noise. Frankie supposed they were mothers come to watch their daughters practice. She smiled and lifted her hand in greeting. “Just because you were some kind of superstar—” “That’s not the point. This isn’t about me.” Glory made an oh yeah kind of sound and leaned against the bleacher back, her arms folded across her chest. Down on the field Gina Calvello was putting the senior school team, twenty or so girls in white tees and blue shorts, through speed drills. Gina had been in her last year at Arcadia when Frankie, only a sixth grader, had begun practicing with the senior school team. Gina and her friends had resented her and for weeks made her life miserable until even they had to admit that she was just as good at the game as most of them despite her youth.
