Teammates…were fine things. Piling onto the bus before the game, edgy with shared nerves, egging one another on with the genial, meaningless phrase C’mon, you guys!, collapsing back into the same seats for the ride...

She lacked the sheen of money, muscular good health, good skin, good clothes.

All these years, her sole objective had been to keep still and hope no one would ever know. She had been a mistress of stillness. She had mastered the simulation of peace without a wisp...

Portia remembered her interview in the small office upstairs…in which she had been so shy, so terrified about not being good enough, not getting this thing, this chance, which she had only just discovered she...