Biba Biba

Previously

…Benio looked at the ball in her hands. It was scuffed now, a little dirt on the white panels. But it still felt like the only real thing she owned. “Tuesday,” she repeated. “I’ll pick you up,” Malik said. “Where are you staying?” She told him the address. He nodded, then jogged off toward his bike. Benio stood alone on the empty field. Ross was still at the sideline, kicking a stray ball. He glanced at her, opened his mouth—probably to say something mean—then closed it and walked away. She smiled. Tomorrow she would practice. Tuesday, she would try out. And somewhere underneath her ribs, a small voice she didn’t know she had whispered: This is where it starts.