7 made the team
Monday doesn't feel like a normal Monday, not in the way classes drag or people complain about early mornings, but in a way that sits under my skin from the second I wake up, like everything is slightly sharper, slightly louder, like something is about to happen and my body already knows it.
They're posting the list today.
All week has been tryouts, drills, reps, cuts getting tighter without anyone actually saying it out loud, and now it's just... done, like everything comes down to a name on a sheet of paper taped to a wall.
It's stupid, kind of.
Also not stupid at all.
I'm already up before my alarm, sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees, staring at nothing for a second before I run a hand through my hair and stand, because sitting still is not helping.
Everly's still asleep.
Her side of the room is exactly how it always is, everything in place, clean, controlled, like nothing ever shifts over there unless she decides it does, and for a second I just stand there, looking at the difference between our sides, at how her world fits into neat lines while mine looks like I barely tried.
Then I shake it off, grab my hoodie, and head out.
-
The list is already up when I get there.
Of course it is.
There's a small crowd around it, guys trying to act like they don't care while clearly caring way too much, shoulders tense, voices low, that weird energy of everyone pretending this doesn't mean everything.
I push through without saying anything, eyes scanning automatically, not rushing, not dragging it out either, just reading.
Names.
More names.
Then-
I don't react immediately.
I just look at it for a second longer than necessary, like I need to make sure it's actually there, like it's not going to disappear if I blink.
It doesn't.
A slow breath leaves my chest, something tight loosening without me realizing it was there in the first place, and I drag a hand over my face, letting out a quiet, "Fuck, yeah," under my breath before I step back.
I made it.
I actually fucking made it.
Someone claps me on the shoulder as they pass, I don't even register who it is, just nod slightly, stepping away from the crowd because suddenly standing there feels like too much, like I need a second to let it sink in without everyone else around.
I pull my phone out instinctively, thumb hovering over my contacts, and for a second I consider calling Scott first, because he'd get it, he'd probably say something stupid and then something real right after, but instead my brain goes somewhere else.
Back to the room.
Back to-
I shake my head slightly, shoving my phone back into my pocket and heading out.
-
When I push the door open, Everly's sitting on her bed with her notebook open, pen in her hand, looking like she's in the middle of something, like she's been here long enough to settle into it.
She looks up when I walk in, and there's a split second where I almost don't say anything, where I almost just drop my stuff and act like this is normal, like it didn't just happen.
Then I don't.
"I made it," I say.
It comes out simple, straightforward, but there's something under it I can't quite hide, something sharper than usual.
She freezes for half a second, then her face shifts, not dramatically, not exaggerated, just... real.
"You did?" she says, standing up without thinking about it, like the movement just happens. "Jackson, that's-" she stops herself, then shakes her head slightly like she's resetting her words. "That's really good."
It's not loud.
It's not over the top.
But it lands harder than I expect.
Because she's not looking at me like I just became something.
She's looking at me like I already was and this just... confirms it.
"I mean it," she adds, stepping a little closer, not too close, just enough that it feels intentional. "You worked for that."
I let out a quiet breath, something in my chest shifting slightly in a way I don't fully process.
"Yeah," I say, nodding once. "I did."
There's a small smile on her face, not forced, not exaggerated, just there, like she's actually... proud.
Not impressed, not entertained.
Proud.
It's different.
We stand there for a second longer than necessary, and I realize I don't really know what to do with that, with the way she's looking at me like this matters for me, not for what it means.
"That's-" she starts, then glances toward her bag. "I have class, but-" she looks back at me. "We'll celebrate later or something."
I huff out a quiet laugh. "Celebrate."
"Yeah," she says, grabbing her bag. "Don't make it weird."
"I'm not the one making it weird."
"You are, actually," she shoots back lightly, already moving toward the door.
I shake my head slightly, watching her for a second.
"Congrats," she says again, softer this time, like she means it just as much as before.
Then she's gone.
The door closes behind her, and the room feels different again, quieter but not empty, like something just settled into place.
I stand there for a second, then sit down on my bed, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, letting everything finally catch up.
I made the team.
I'm actually here.
I grab my phone again, scrolling through my contacts, and this time I don't hesitate.
I hit call.
She picks up almost immediately.
"Please tell me you're not calling to complain about English again," Jenny says without missing a beat, her voice bright, slightly rushed like she's moving while talking.
I let out a short laugh. "Nice to hear from you too."
"Jackson," she says, and I can hear the shift instantly, the way she recognizes something in my tone. "What happened?"
"I made it," I say.
There's a beat of silence.
Then-
"No way."
"Yeah."
"No, shut up," she says, and I can practically picture her stopping whatever she's doing in the middle of some New York street, completely ignoring everything around her. "You're serious."
"I'm serious."
"Oh my God," she breathes, and then she laughs, loud and real. "I knew it. I literally told Mom you were going to make it."
"Did you?" I say, leaning back slightly.
"Yes, and she said she didn't want to jinx it, but I said that's not how that works and-" she cuts herself off. "Jackson, that's huge."
"Yeah," I say, quieter now.
"How do you feel?"
I hesitate for half a second, because I don't usually get asked that like it actually matters.
"Good," I say finally. "Really fucking good."
She laughs again. "Okay, yeah, that tracks."
"I'm serious," I add, running a hand through my hair. "It's just... it's what I wanted, you know."
"I know," she says, softer now. "I know."
There's noise in the background on her end, cars, voices, something chaotic that fits her life way more than mine right now.
"You better celebrate," she adds.
"I might."
"You better," she repeats. "And don't do anything stupid."
"No promises."
"Jackson."
"I'm kidding," I say, even though I'm not entirely.
"Mm," she hums, unconvinced. "Call Mom and Dad."
"I will."
"You better," she says again. "I'm serious."
"I know."
We talk for a minute longer, about nothing and everything, and when we hang up, I sit there for a second, staring at my phone before dialing again.
My mom picks up this time.
"Jackson."
Her voice is warm, steady, familiar in a different way than Jenny's, softer but just as grounding.
"Hey," I say.
"How are you?" she asks immediately.
"I made the team."
There's a pause, and then I hear it, the way her breath catches slightly before she lets it out.
"Oh, honey," she says, and there's something in her voice that hits harder than anything else today. "That's amazing."
My dad's voice comes in somewhere in the background, asking what happened, and my mom repeats it to him, and suddenly they're both there, both talking, both proud in that quiet way they always are, not overwhelming, not too much, just... steady.
"We knew you could do it," my dad says.
"Yeah," I reply, leaning back against the wall. "I guess I did too."
And for the first time since I saw my name on that list, it actually settles fully.
Not just in my head, but somewhere deeper, like this isn't just something that happened.
It's something that matters.
And for once, I don't feel the need to brush that off.