Ellie Bonebrake had trained herself to ignore the 60hz hum of the fluorescent lights in the multipurpose room that served as Northwood Elementary’s gym and cafeteria. The potpourri of pizza Wednesday, sixth-graders just hitting puberty, and an overheating urn of cheap coffee had also become a familiar background to these monthly meetings. But the scent of a woman who was not his wife was emanating from Gerry McGuirk, and it was a distraction—Ellie did not want to identify its source. She also needed for the district’s athletic director to wrap up his report on the previous school year because there was a nasal whine in his voice—allergies, maybe?—that was causing her actual physical pain.

Trying to stay focused, Ellie opened her color-coded three-ring binder and reviewed what she hoped to accomplish tonight: inalize bake sale volunteers, contributions and table assignments.

1. Finalize bake sale volunteers

2. Recruit chaperones for the Sadie Hawkins dance

3. Address the TikTok fight club situation

1 and 2 were highlighted in sky blue. She’d used her lavender highlighter for the last item on her list.

Number 1 was easy. This was Jamie’s thing. She’d been organizing bake sales since her son and Ellie’s daughter played T-ball together. All they had to do tonight was remind everyone what they’d promised to donate and the shifts they’d signed-up to work. The threat of public shaming if they didn’t deliver was a reliable motivator, which was why they were doing this here in addition to to email. Later tonight, Jamie would get on Facebook and offer proactive thanks to everyone who had volunteered.

Ellie could totally handle this herself, but Jamie was supposed to be here. Ellie did her best to look like she was still paying attention while she shot off a quick text.

As for Item 2, Ellie hated the idea of a Sadie Hawkins dance with her whole being, but it was a beloved tradition and the cheer team’s biggest fundraiser of the year. The cognitive dissonance of supporting a sport that was mostly girls by hosting a dance defined by the idea that there was something cute and crazy about a girl asking out a boy—and that’s not even getting into the heteronormativity of the whole thing—Ellie made a conscious effort to still her mind and appreciate how rage could serve as a palate cleanser when he senses were being bombarded.

Item 3 wasn’t on the Athletic Association Boosters’ agenda, but it was very much on Ellie’s agenda.

There were people in the audience that she needed to talk to, and sometimes it was easiest to catch them here. Ellie scanned the crowd to see how many of them were here tonight.

Managing her pack was, in many ways, easier than managing the Sunnyview Public Schools’ Athletic Boosters. Her role in the pack was—at the moment anyway—uncontested. Sure, there were disputes, but she’d rather deal with an angry snarl or an unearned show of dominance than passive aggression and an endless volley of “reply all” emails.

Ellie saw Jamie rushing into the room moments after she caught her scent—cinnamon and dry shampoo, with an ever-present base note of mild panic. “So sorry! So, so sorry,” Jamie whispered, collapsing into the chair beside Ellie. “It’s all good,” Ellie murmured, sliding her copy of the agenda toward her BFF. “You ready to talk bake sale?”

“Of course” Jamie breathed, fanning herself with the paper. Jamie had been a hot mess as long as Ellie had known her. Perimenopause had not made Jamie less hot.

Once McGuirk was done talking, the rest of the meeting passed in a blur. As longtime president of the Athletic Association Boosters of Sunnyview Consolidated School District, Ellie navigated it all with practiced ease, securing volunteers, delegating tasks, and projecting an aura of unflappable control. No matter how frustrated she got, Ellie was the Alpha Mom in this room, the apex predator of fundraisers and budget approvals. And as the meeting wrapped up, her mind was already elsewhere, drifting past the carefully tended lawns of Sunnyview, toward the deep, dark woods that bordered their quiet suburb.