Anger gripped the console with white-hot fists. "I still can't believe that woman threatened us like that!"
"I thought I was gonna faint," Anxiety groaned.
"She didn't say we were out," Joy said quickly, trying to steady herself. "She just… asked."
"She judged," Disgust snapped. "With that smug 'can we count on you' look. I hate her coat. I hate her boots. I hate her clipboard."
But Riley didn't say anything. She just sat on the nearest bench, with Megan beside her. Grace stood next to Megan.
They sat like that for a long while, until an announcement echoed overhead: "Flight 332 to San Francisco now boarding at Gate 12A."
"C'mon," Grace said gently. "Let's get to the gate."
They walked in silence. Megan carried Riley's stick bag without saying a word about it.
Riley's phone buzzed just as they reached the gate. A message from Bree.
Bree: You okay?
Riley stared at it. Then typed back:
Riley: Just got grilled by a Northridge rep. No clue what I'm feeling.
The reply came fast.
Bree: That tracks. They did the same to another girl last year. Intense vibe check.
Riley: Well I'm vibing at like, 10% right now.
Bree: That's still above average. A pause. Then: You wanna talk when you land?
Riley blinked.
Riley: Are you free?
Bree: I'm in the airport. Flying home from the other camp. Gate 14. Wait… are you here too?
Riley's heart jumped. She bolted up. "I need to go find Bree."
Grace blinked. "Wait—what?"
"Just trust me," Riley said, already moving.
Inside her mind, Joy punched the air. "YES! DESTINY!"
Two gates down, Bree was waiting, leaned against a vending machine, earbuds in.
Their eyes met.
Bree grinned. "Well. Look who's alive."
Riley didn't even say anything at first. She just walked up and hugged her.
Tightly.
"I can't believe it," Riley said happily.
They found an empty row of chairs between their gates and sat cross-legged facing each other, hockey bags wedged under the seats.
"Tell me everything," Bree said.
Riley did. The messages. The confrontation. The doubt. The fact that she still hadn't chosen between Northridge and the U.S. Fall Showcase.
"I don't want to lose either," Riley admitted.
"You won't," Bree said simply. "You just have to pick which version of yourself you're ready to become."
Riley blinked at her. "That's… actually really good."
"I'm in my wisdom era."
Riley smiled, but her chest was still tight.
"Hey," Bree added, softer now. "I know you're scared. But fear only means the choice matters."
Inside her head, Joy stood straighter. "Write that down."
Anxiety smiled faintly. "We needed to hear it."
Before they parted ways at their gates, Bree turned back.
"I meant what I texted earlier," she said. "You inspire me, Riley. I'm switching to defense next season. I want to be pushed again. And watching you fight like hell for your spot? It reminded me who I used to be."
Riley swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't know what I'm choosing yet. But… thank you. For showing up."
"You always do," Bree said. Then she disappeared into her gate.
On the plane ride home, Riley stared out the window, the clouds rolling below like soft ice.
Inside the control room, Anxiety sat with her back against the console. "What if we still choose wrong?"
Joy placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we grow anyway."
The plane touched down with a soft jolt, the rumble of the landing gear echoing through Riley's chest.
She didn't rush off. Just sat for a moment while the rest of the passengers stood, jostling for overhead bags and wrestling with seatbelts. She stared at the back of the seat in front of her like it might reveal the answer she still didn't have.
Inside the control room, the emotions were unusually quiet.
Joy rested her chin on the console. "She doesn't know what to say when she gets home."
"She doesn't have to," Sadness murmured. "Not yet."
Anxiety glanced around. "Do we tell Mom? Or Coach? Or… do we just go to bed and pretend time doesn't exist?"
Riley finally stood. Her legs were stiff, her body heavy. Her backpack dug into her shoulder as she stepped into the jet bridge, blinking against the fluorescent lights.
The airport felt colder than when she'd left. Or maybe she'd just changed that much in a week.
By the baggage claim, her mom was waiting.
She spotted Riley instantly, waving both hands like she hadn't just seen her seven days ago. Riley's throat tightened at the sight.
"We're tired..." Ennui groaned. "I hope Mom doesn't keep us in a conversation hostage for long."
"I actually agree with you for once," Envy murmured.
"Hi, honey," her mom said, hugging her hard. "How's the knee?"
"Still attached," Riley mumbled into her shoulder. "Where's dad?"
"Asleep," Jill said. "He had a long day, but he's looking forward to seeing you when he wakes up." She pulled back to look her in the eyes. "You okay?"
Riley hesitated.
"No," she said finally. "But I think I will be."
They didn't say much on the drive. The radio played some 90s song her mom liked to hum along with. Riley stared out the window, watching the world blur by.
By the time they got home, the sun had already dipped below the horizon. Her mom carried her hockey bag in without comment, just like old times.
"Dinner's in the fridge," she said. "And you should probably check all these texts you've been getting. You've been getting notifications since you hopped in the car."
Riley nodded, dropping her stuff just inside the doorway and kicking off her shoes. She wasn't hungry. Not really.
She went straight upstairs, collapsed on her bed fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling.
Then, with a sigh, she reached for her phone.
Texts from Val. Megan. Grace. Even Coach Roberts.
Val: Made it home. Still proud of you. Call me when you're less fried.
Megan: Tell me you told off the Northridge woman. Or at least side-eyed her.
Coach Roberts: Call me tomorrow. And remember—no one can decide your future but you.
Then, a surprise.
A message from an unknown number:
Heard you might be coming to Colorado. We've got your jersey waiting.
It was signed with a lightning bolt emoji.
Riley stared.
Inside her mind, Fear let out a tiny yelp. "It's real. It's all real."
"I like the emoji," Disgust said absently. "It's confident."
Anger crossed his arms. "We're not backing down from this."
Anxiety glanced around. "What if… we tell them tomorrow?"
Joy looked at the others. "Yeah. Let's rest tonight."
Riley set the phone down.
Then picked it up again.
Then opened a note.
Two columns.
Northridge on the left.
Team USA on the right.
She started listing what mattered.
And this time, the fear didn't steer the pen.
By midnight, Riley's eyelids were heavy, but sleep didn't come.
"I thought you said we were tired, factice," Envy glared at Ennui, who rolled her eyes in response.
"It's everything that's been going on!" Anxiety commented. "Northridge... Colorado... Northridge... Colorado... It's so much pressure!"
Riley lay under her blanket, phone still in her hand, the note with the two columns half-filled and scribbled over in places. It wasn't that one side had more pros than the other. That would've been too easy. The real problem was that both sides meant something. Both held weight.
And both terrified her.
Inside, the control room was dim. Joy had curled up on the floor, arms around her knees. Anxiety sat in a chair, twitching every few seconds. Envy was pacing the room back and forth. Sadness and Embarrassment rocked gently beside the memory orb shelf, holding a glowing one from the night Riley had first stepped onto the Northridge campus. Disgust filed her nails, muttering about how unflattering those jerseys were. Anger stared at the wall, occasionally punching his palm. Even Ennui was tensed up.
They were all waiting.
Just like Riley.
By 12:42 a.m., she sat up and pulled her hoodie tighter around her.
Then, she called Val.
It rang twice before Val answered, her voice low but alert. "Hey."
"I didn't wake you, did I?"
"You think I could sleep right now?" Val replied. "A good friend of mine's about to join the U.S. Development Program or turn it down like she's starring in a dramatic sports movie. I've been staring at my ceiling for an hour."
That got a small laugh from Riley. A real one.
Val waited, giving her space.
"I started making a list," Riley said. "Trying to figure out what makes sense. Northridge is safe. Familiar. A program I've idolized for years."
"And Team USA?"
"Scary. Intense. Higher stakes. But… it also feels like stepping into something bigger than myself."
Val didn't speak right away. Then she said, "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
Riley immediately knew she was referring to the Firehawks camp, where her and Val first met. "Yeah."
"And you went out there anyway?"
"Yeah."
Val's voice softened. "You didn't do that because it was safe. You did it because you believed you belonged there."
Riley swallowed hard.
"You're not supposed to be choosing what's easy, Ri. You're supposed to choose what sets you on fire."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Riley whispered, "What if I fail?"
Inside her mind, the emotions turned to face the console.
Joy slowly got to her feet.
"Then you fail forward," Val said. "And we'll still be in your corner."
Riley let out a shaky breath.
"I don't know how to explain it," she said. "But when I think about Colorado, about pulling on that jersey with the lightning bolt—my heart beats faster. Not from fear. From something else."
"Sounds like a heartbeat that knows what it wants."
Riley looked at the note again. She closed it.
"I think I know," she said.
Val smiled through the phone. "Then say it."
Riley didn't hesitate.
"I'm going to Colorado."
Joy slammed both hands down on the console, golden light shooting through the control room.
Fear let out a tiny smile. "It's going to hurt. But it'll be beautiful."
Envy punched the air. "Let's go!"
Disgust raised her eyebrows. "At least now we can wear cool gear."
Anxiety clutched her chest. "I'm scared. But… weirdly okay with it?"
Joy leaned over the console and beamed.
"She chose this. We chose this."
Back in her room, Riley was grinning. Exhausted. Wired. Terrified. But more herself than she'd felt in weeks.
"Thank you," she said softly into the phone.
Val just hummed. "Now go to sleep, Olympic hopeful."
The next morning, Riley called Coach Roberts.
It went straight to voicemail.
She left a message.
"Hi, Coach. I wanted to thank you for everything. For believing in me. And for pushing me. I've decided to accept the invitation to Team USA's Fall Showcase. I'm going to Colorado. I'm ready to chase this all the way."
She hung up before she could overthink it.
Later that afternoon, Jill and Bill found her sitting on the back porch, knee wrapped in ice, laptop on her lap, eyes unfocused.
"You made your decision?" Jill asked gently.
Riley nodded.
Jill and Bill sat beside her and didn't say anything for a while.
Then Jill said, "I'm proud of you. Not just for getting in—but for how you've carried yourself."
Riley blinked. "Even when I pushed another player for calling me a bitch?"
Bill laughed. "Well, you can have really bad ideas, but we still love you."
"Can I ask you guys something?" Riley said.
"Always," Bill said.
"Were you guys scared? When I told you I wanted to play hockey seriously?"
Jill tilted her head, thinking. "A little bit. But not because I didn't believe in you. Because I knew how hard this would be."
"So why let me do it?"
"Because I saw that look in your eye. The same one you get when you lace up. And I figured anything that made you come alive like that was worth the risk."
Riley looked down at her knee.
"It still is," Bill added.
Inside, Joy held that moment like a memory orb. It pulsed gold and warm in her hands.
"Add it to the shelf," she whispered.
Riley leaned into her mom's side.
They sat there as the sun dipped lower.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.