The Yellowjackets. The new all-girls freshman varsity soccer team. They'd trained, tried out, and triumphed together—every single one of them making the cut. And now, they'd done the unthinkable: undefeated their entire first season.

Shauna’s blistering speed left defenders blinking. Lottie’s footwork was like something out of a dance recital. Jackie led the team like she’d been born with a captain’s band on her arm. And then there was the bond—unspoken, unshakable—between the girls. On the field, they didn’t just move as a team. They moved like a family.

And just outside that tight circle—on the sidelines, in the background, but always present—was Misty.

Misty Quigley, the freshman equipment manager.

She wasn’t just a manager. She was the manager. Cleats always cleaned, water bottles always full, shin guards stacked just right, and she knew every girl’s sock preference by heart. She didn’t play—but she made sure they could.

It was a warm Thursday afternoon. The sun hung low, lazily filtering through the trees bordering the field. The girls were jogging through the last of their warmups—gentle laps, stretches, a few playful taps of the ball—when Coach Martinez and Coach Scott emerged from the equipment shed.

Misty trailed close behind them, arms full of something hidden under a canvas tarp.

“Circle in!” Martinez called, voice sharp but familiar. The girls quickly jogged in and took a knee on the grass, wiping sweat from their brows.

That’s when Misty yanked back the tarp with a triumphant grin. Underneath: a pile of deep gold-and-blue satin.

The breath caught in every throat.

“Are those...?” Jackie started, half-standing.

“Oh my god,” Mari whispered, her eyes wide. “Are those varsity jackets?”

Shauna jumped to her feet. “No way. You’re kidding. We actually earned those?!”

Lottie gasped softly, clapping her hands.

Taissa stayed kneeling but smiled. “Only undefeated team in the league. Kind of a no-brainer.”

Laura Lee folded her hands together instinctively, murmuring a thankful prayer under her breath.

Coach Scott raised his eyebrows. “You could say it’s divine,” he said with a smirk, holding up one jacket like it was a sacred artifact. “Or you could say it’s the result of early morning drills, brutal practices, and me yelling about defence every other day.”

“That too,” Natalie muttered with a tired grin. Her eyes flicked toward the jackets, though, lighting up. “Still. Worth it.”

Misty beamed from the sidelines, practically vibrating with excitement. “I helped pick the lining colors!” she piped up. “They’re sweat-resistant and everything!”

“Of course you did,” Taissa said, deadpan but not unkind.

Martinez stepped forward, his voice steady. “You girls earned these. Every pass, every sprint, every goal. You’ve made this school proud.”

“Not to mention,” Coach Scott added, “you made us proud."

Van rolled her eyes playfully. “Okay, okay, who cares—let’s try them on already!”