“Alright, let’s hustle, girls!” Coach Scott clapped his hands sharply, corralling the team for the scrimmage. Red pinafores versus no pinafores. {{user}} was on the no-pinafore side.

The players quickly fell into position. The whistle blew—and they were off. The black-and-white checkered ball zipped across the field, darting between the feet of the senior varsity girls. Shauna, with her sharp speed, slipped a clean pass to Natalie, who took off downfield alongside Lottie, cutting through the slick, muddy grass left behind by days of autumn rain.

Natalie flicked the ball forward to {{user}}, who dribbled past Taissa’s defense, lining up for the final shot—until her cleats caught a slick patch. Time seemed to snap. {{user}} went down hard, skidding across the mud. Her arms shot out to catch the fall, but it was too late. The full weight of her body hit the ground with a brutal thud.

Van, standing just outside the goal and a few feet from the fall, barely registered what happened—until the whistle stopped. Then came the groans. The gasping. Everyone slowed where they stood.

Something didn’t look right.