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change strategies. This time, I shot before Peter could get to me. But he jumped in front and it threw me off balance just a little as I kicked. The ball sailed wide of the goal.
    â€œThat’s enough, Bryan,” Mom called to Dad from the stoop.
    He didn’t pay attention to her as he picked up the ball. “Gracie, get around him. Do it again.”
    I had to get it this time. Everything I wanted to do depended on it. I took my time setting up, just as Johnny always told me to. Then I charged at Peter, hoping the sheer force of my run would make him give ground.
    It was a miscalculation. Peter blocked hard and knocked me back. I went down into the mud and slid.
    My knee and arm stung, but I couldn’t pay attention to it. I got up again as fast as I could and faced Dad. I knew it looked bad. I couldn’t let it stop me.
    He just looked at me as though he’d proven his point and there was no more to say. Without another word, ball in hand, he headed back to the house.
    â€œI can do this!” I shouted after him as I jumped in front and tried to take the ball from him. “Let me show you.”

    He held the ball high so I couldn’t reach it. “It’s very simple,” he said calmly. “You’re not tough enough. Those guys will destroy you.”
    That was it. I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. The frustration and anger I felt made me feel close to exploding. I punched Dad angrily and let my tears flow without even trying to stop them.
    â€œGracie, stop!” he said. There was kindness in his voice, but I didn’t want to know about it. He tried to hug me. I just pushed him away. I couldn’t be hugged by him, the man who didn’t care about my hopes and dreams.
    He went inside, followed by Mike and Daniel. Peter waited for me there in the rain. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, though. I’d told him to play hard, but did he have to play that hard? “Get out of here!” I shouted at him, still seething, my arms and knees stinging.
    I was still standing there in the rain when his car pulled out of the driveway. Dad left next. Good. I didn’t want to see any of their smirking, self-satisfied boy faces.
    After a few minutes, Mom came out to the stoop. “Get cleaned up. You can ride with me,” she offered.
    I figured I might as well go to school as hang around the house. I wiped the mud off with a towel, pulled on any old dry jeans and shirt, and, not even bothering to brush out my hair, got into the car with her.
    As she drove, I tried to focus all my attention on the windshield wipers going back and forth…back and forth. That way I wouldn’t have to think about anything else.
    After a couple of blocks, Mom broke the silence. “Not everything is possible,” she said.

    â€œIt was for Johnny,” I replied sullenly.
    â€œIt’s different for you. You’re a girl,” she insisted.
    I’d heard her say stuff like this before, and it made me crazy. She was always telling me how her mother said women have it tougher and had to accept life’s unfairness. Didn’t she know there was a women’s movement going on, that women were protesting and marching, trying to change things? I’d never thought too much about it because I never thought it had anything to do with me. But at least I knew it was going on! What world did she live in?
    â€œYou didn’t have to take his side,” I mumbled, turning away from her.

Six
    The next six months were sort of a blur. I guess I went to school and all, but I was numb inside. Everything seemed to be going on in some other world outside of me. I was far away from it all. It was better that way. Being removed from the world meant I didn’t have to care about anything or feel anything or even think about anything.
    I still thought about Johnny, of course. I thought about him every day when I fed his hawk, which I took into my room. The bird