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have a fever?”
    â€œNo, Mom. It was just a bad dream. I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
    â€œWhat was the dream about?”
    Lacy wanted to tell her about the nightmares, but she hesitated. Her mother was not Carrie. Her sister would have figured out that the episode was triggered by Lacy’s upcoming scrimmage. Her mother didn’t have a clue. “Nothing. I don’t remember.”
    Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Did it have something to do with your soccer problems?”
    Okay, maybe she had more of a clue than Lacy thought. Lacy sank back onto her pillow. “I told you, I’m fine.”
    Her mother murmured, “I’m worried about you. Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”
    If she’d asked the question harshly, Lacy would have immediately tuned her mother out. But the caring in her voice made Lacy want to cry. Part of her agreed. It would be easier to quit soccer. Fighting a lump in her throat, Lacy said, “I don’t know.”
    Lacy’s mother sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “Anxiety is a part of life, Lacy. When you’re an adult, you’ll have to decide for yourself if whatever is stressing you is worth working through. But you’re not an adult. And I’m your mother. I don’t like seeing you in this much pain.”
    She patted Lacy’s head and rose. “I’ve found you an adorable dress for the Belle League luncheon.”
    â€œMother—”
    â€œIt’s really fabulous,” she said, and winked. “I think you’ll be surprised.” She walked to the door and turned. “The league is not just a social club, you know. We do wonderful work for Fraser. Who do you think is funding the hospital’s new maternity wing?”
    She paused with her hand on the doorframe. “It’s a legitimate future for you, Lacy. A husband, children, community service. Think about it.” She shut off the light and closed the door.
    Lacy lay in the darkness. The Belle League. A husband and children. Those were things her mother wanted for her. But did she want them for herself? She hated thinking about her future.
    Lacy didn’t like thinking about her present, either. She wanted to go back ten months to last year’s regionals, when she was playing at the top of her game and life was perfect. No past, no future, just
now
.
    She sighed and rolled over. She wanted that feeling back. Of running fearlessly and making goals. Like in the dream she’d just had, before it turned into a nightmare. And she
could
have that, couldn’t she? Her leg was fine. She was playing on it, falling on it. Nothing terrible had happened.
    She thought of telling Coach Berg about what Nita had found out about Raven. But there was no proof, only allegations. If Lacy tattled, it would look as though she was trying to get her position back without doing the work. No. If she wanted to play left forward, she had to earn it. That meant she had to impress Coach Berg more than Raven did. At tomorrow’s scrimmage she had to outplay Raven.

N
    ita and Lacy stretched together on the field.
    â€œReggie said he’d try to make it,” Nita said. “Let me know if you see him.”
    â€œYou are totally hung up on that boy.”
    â€œUm … maybe. Yeah. As long as he doesn’t disrupt my game.”
    Lacy glanced into the stands. Since it wasn’t a regular conference match, only a few people were there to watch, including some parents and freshmen with nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon.
    Win or lose, the score of this match wouldn’t count toward in-season standings. But for the girls fighting for a position on the team, it was a very big deal. Coach said the game would sway his choice of starters for the rest of the season. If Lacy were to grade her practices since her meltdown after Raven’s tackle, she’d give herself a B+. Raven, on the other hand, had been