Oxley Moment: Better
An Oxley Moment
I had a bit of fun with the last fiction piece, so I thought I’d dredge up another and polish it off. I think this one should be called Better.
The damp grass seeped through my joggers as we lined up along the hockey field, ready for drills.
In the first weeks back on campus after the summer, it always felt too bright, too loud, and above all else, too fake. Everyone pretended they didn’t spend the holidays wondering if they’d still belong when they came back.
I was just overthinking. First sessions were always a little chaotic. Older girls testing their speed. New girls at the edges. The captain was already barking instructions like the season depended on this exact warmup. I adjusted my grip on the wooden hockey stick.
“Again,” someone called.
We ran the drill another time.
The ball skidded across the slick turf and I trapped it. No fumble, no second touch. I ran, pushing it forward to the wing. It was a small move. Basic, really, but right.
“Better,” Olivia smiled as she passed.
Better. The word stuck in my gut. Not good. Not great. Better. We rotated through the next drill and I ran. Sprinted, pivoted, breathed through the stitch in my side.
Better. Maybe someone else could fill my position better. But it was hard to talk people into playing for the team.
A few guys hung at the edge of the field. Elbows and arms slung over the wire fence. Long legs leaning against the metal benches. They weren’t watching, but they weren’t not watching either. It was like this at the beginning of last year too. This time of year always bought spectators. Like everyone was trying to figure out who everyone else was. Where the freshman fitted in.
Eyes on the field, I dodged for the wing but missed.
“Time.” Olivia called and we all broke away. Girls bee-lining for their water bottles bordering the fence. I did the same, snatching my metal bottle as I dropped to the grass, stretching out my calves and staring up at the sky. The clouds dancing across its blue depth made it feel like summer break hadn’t yet ended.
Voices blended and overlapped as people complained about early classes, late classes — about the lack of ocean here in the New England.
Someone jogged past, chasing a stray ball. His dark hair was shoved back behind both ears like he wasn’t used to it being long. With an easy underarm flick, he tossed the ball back towards the girls, who like me, were all flopped on the grass.
After he’d already passed, he shot back over his shoulder, “Nice trap,”
“Thanks.” I jumped in, zero cool.
He nodded and kept jogging.
My insides warmed. Nice trap was infinitely cooler than better, even if it was probably just a throwaway comment from someone who probably wouldn’t remember saying it.
The break was over quicker than most of us would have liked, so I hauled myself up and lined up again. My shoulders squared.
“Let’s go.” Olivia’s voice held a slight challenge I hadn’t noticed before.
The whistle blew, but I was already moving.
A note from me
Oxley Moments will become a regular segment here, in the free library.
If you enjoy longer pieces, I also share deeper canon-adjacent scenes inside Oxley Extras.
Or, if you enjoy my speculative writing better, I’ve started dropping flash fiction over on Real & Unreal.