Chapter 39 Otto
OTTO
There’s a tiny balcony off the living room of my apartment.
I head out there with my laptop and a glass of water, still sweating from what’s become a daily run along the Charles River.
I haven’t seen Claire there since the frigid morning we ran into each other.
I’ve kept my distance as much as possible since the afternoon she came over here.
Only two games remain on the Siege calendar before the summer break—one home this weekend, one away next weekend—and then my commitment to the team will have officially ended.
I still haven’t booked a return ticket, but that’s not what I’m doing now. I swallow a large sip of water, nearly draining the glass, and then navigate to my Bookmarks. Lean back in the small chair that matches the small table, both barely fitting out here, and watch as the video begins to play.
My unease mounts as the minutes tick up, same as always.
My hands clench into fists as I hear, “And what a moment for Claire Caldwell, who’s subbing in for Sierra Sanders.
Caldwell, out of Boston, has had very little playing time during these Games.
She’s one of the youngest players on the team.
Only one cap earned in her entire career. ”
The coverage continues, listing off some of her stats from Lincoln University.
Claire runs onto the field, nodding to a teammate as she takes her position.
And then…she glances to the side of the field. My heart spasms painfully when the camera zooms in that direction, the spectator section reserved for athletes to watch events they aren’t participating in. Where I would have sat if I’d shown up to the game. I spot Beck and a few other familiar faces.
The camera refocuses on the center of the field as play resumes, following an Australian forward who’s a streak of yellow on-screen. My knee bounces as I watch the US goalie make a stellar save.
Time ticks higher. My knee bounces faster as I sense what’s coming at any second. During the eighty-fifth minute, an American player has a breakaway.
I watch her approach Australia’s goal, watch the wild ponytail that I know belongs to Claire as she sprints up the field after her. Even from farther behind, she passes other blue uniforms. There’s a brief, undeserved surge of pride as I watch her trap the pass from her teammate.
It’s not a bad kick. It flies fast off her foot, straight on target.
But she gave away too much with her positioning. The yellow-clad goalie guesses the correct corner, diving for the ball that’s slowed too much and making the save.
I watch Claire’s face fall. Watch her fight to keep her composure, jogging back to the opposite end of the field.
Regulation ends with a tied score.
Three minutes of extra time are added.
I’m nervous, watching the match, even knowing how it ended. I can’t imagine how the spectators and players felt. A game doesn’t get much more high-stakes than this.
Australia scores.
The final whistle blows.
I close my laptop, uninterested in watching Australia’s celebration.
And think, I should have been there.