Chapter 3
Three
“You need to focus today,” Aunt Maddy says as we near Ashworth Academy. “Listen to your teachers and ask for help when you don’t understand something.”
I slink down in the front passenger seat. “Yes, Aunt Maddy.”
“This is serious, Jamie,” Maddy says, turning the car into the west parking lot. “You don’t want to get kicked out of school, do you?”
I grumble as she parks the car. “Of course not.”
“Then take your classes as seriously as you do soccer.”
I open the car door and pull my backpack from between my calves. “It’s a tall order, but I’ll try.”
Aunt Maddy pats my shoulder. “You can do this. It’s time to turn things around.”
I step out of the car, hoisting the bag over my shoulder. “Or I could just do what you did and drop out at sixteen.”
Maddy deadpans me. “Hardly the same situation.”
“You can’t tell me you enjoyed school.”
“I had bigger problems to deal with than you do. We’re doing much better now. You don’t have to worry about the lights staying on or how to get food in the fridge while writing an essay.”
I look down at the asphalt below and frown. I hate that Mom and Maddy spent their teens struggling so hard. Plus, they had a whiny baby to deal with. Oh, dang. I’m still that whiny baby.
I look up at Maddy and smile. “I’ll try harder.”
Aunt Maddy grins and waves me off. “That’s my girl.”
I shut the door and wave as she backs out the car. As I make my way toward the girls’ locker room, I hear Maddy’s car slow. Over my shoulder, I spy Coach Anders’s truck pulling into the parking lot. He halts beside her, and the two talk between rolled down windows.
I hug my arms around my middle, creating more warmth under my sweatshirt, and keep walking.
The good thing about having soccer practice before school is I don’t have to arrive in my school skirt, blouse, and blazer.
If I have to change schools, at least I wouldn’t be going to another private school with a uniform.
But, geez, I don’t want to give up the uniform if it means giving up going to school with Kai.
A few of my teammates are ahead, walking into the locker room.
The grass is dewy and wets my cleats as I walk down the slope from the parking lot.
I keep my head down as I enter the locker room.
I pass Hayley and Leah as they chat about the rom-com I watched last night.
They’re arguing about whether Jeremy, the main love interest, was in fact a dream boat or not.
I grip my backpack straps as I move across to a vacant bench.
My internal monologue can’t help running into overdrive.
No, Jeremy isn’t a dream boat. He’s fundamentally flawed, and Katarina could do way better than him.
He disrespected her parents, showed up at her workplace unannounced, and spied on her when he didn’t know the guy she was with was her cousin.
I want to scream it at them, but the thought of going over there makes me sweat and we haven’t even warmed up yet.
Talk about fundamentally flawed. It’s not like I’m one of those tomboys who “just doesn’t get other girls.
” I’m into girly stuff. I could hold a conversation, if only my tongue would release the words!
After spending an entire season with these girls, I doubt I’ll ever hold an entire conversation with them.
I wish I could play on the boys’ team. It’d make life so much easier.
After I pull out my shin pads and mouth guard from my bag, I make my way to the field.
Coach Anders drags a netted bag with soccer balls and cones toward the field with our keeper, Sally.
Coach calls us to get moving with a mile run and then get onto stretches.
When I run during practice, I always imagine Kai ahead of me.
It’s more motivating than competing with my teammates.
Whenever I train with him, he always beats me. One day I’ll be faster than him.
After stretches, Coach gets us to pair off for passes as he sets up for drills.
Even though I don’t have any friends on the team, I never worry about partnering up.
Someone always kicks a ball toward me and asks me to kick it back.
At least I can hold my own on the team and others respect me for it.
Hayley passes me a ball and we start on a jog, passing square and then on the diagonal. Her comments about Jeremy replay in my head. Maybe I could just blurt out that I watched the movie too. That wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe if I just say the title, she’ll go on a rant and I can just nod along.
I watch Hayley’s face as I pass back. She’s concentrating hard on her footwork. She doesn’t look back at me before she passes and kicks the ball too far ahead. I pick up the pace, collecting the ball before it goes too far.
Hayley groans, punching her thigh. I slow my pace, seeing her stop in place.
“Are you okay?” I manage.
Hayley cracks her neck and breaks back into a jog. “Yeah. Let’s keep going.”
I nod and pass the ball back. It was a sentence. I call that a win.
Hayley and I make it back to Coach first. After we place the soccer balls back in the netted bag, he gets us to follow him to mid-field.
“Everyone, line up for drills,” Coach calls beckoning us toward the line of cones.
At the opposite end of the cones are the goal posts where our keeper waits.
“Dominica, head down the other end of the cones and be the defender,” Coach says and Dominica jogs toward the top of the goal circle. “Everyone else, line up here. Dribble around the cones, beat the defender, and then shoot. When you’re done, become the defender for the next person.”
As I wait for my turn, I jump on the spot, shaking out my hands to keep my circulation pumping. The line moves quickly, and Coach rolls the ball my way.
My cleats grip to the ground as I jog, nudging the ball with care.
Weaving in tight circles, I head straight for the defender, ready to fake her out.
Her stance is wide and I take the opportunity to pass the ball between her legs.
I smirk, holding back my laugh as I swing around her and tap the ball ahead.
With open space, I wind my leg back and shoot.
The keeper deflects the ball off her gloves, but I keep flying forward and connect the ball with my knee.
The ball lifts into the air and I steady myself under it.
When it falls back to earth, I direct my head to hit and send it darting into the net.
“Woo!“ I cheer, punching the air above my head.
“Good work, Jamie!” Coach calls from mid-field.
The previous defender has already jogged toward mid-field when I turn around. The keeper kicks the ball to Coach, and my next victim gets herself ready at the other end of the cones.
Leah navigates the cones with downcast eyes. She’s one of the weaker players on the team. It almost feels mean. My lips curve. Almost.
I run up to her at an angle that forces her to the left. It’s important to learn your teammates’ weak points. Leah tries to pass around me, but I connect my foot with the ball, sending it out of bounds. I shoot her an apologetic look before she runs to chase it.
“Okay, get up here, Jamie,” Coach calls. “Hayley, you’re up.”
“Hey, what did you do with your feet back there?” Dominica asks when I get back to mid-field.
“Huh?”
“You did a little flick before shooting the ball away from her,” Dominica says. “Could you teach me how to do that?”
“Oh, umm, no it’s…” Oh, geez. Here comes the nonsensical sounds right on cue. “It’s easy. You don’t… I can’t… Teach? Umm, no.”
Dominica’s face screws up. She looks away, clearly mumbling, “Loser.”
My stomach somersaults inside me. A perfect opening to make a better connection with a teammate and I screw it up. Why must I do this every training session and game? There’s an entire team of girls who could be potential friends, and I have to alienate myself with my brash awkwardness.
We run through a few more drills until it’s time to pack up.
“Good job today, team,” Coach says. “Hit the lockers.”
The team helps pack up cones and gather soccer balls before leaving for the lockers.
“Jamie.” Coach beckons me closer. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, Coach?”
He eyes the team disappearing toward the lockers and I hope this isn’t another speech about being a better sport or being more encouraging to other team members.
Coach turns back to me when everyone is sufficiently out of earshot. “You’re off the team.”
I splutter a cough, leaving my mouth hanging open. “Excuse me?”
“Not permanently,” he continues, and my normal breathing function becomes operational. “I’m benching you until you improve your grades.”
“You’re what?” I shake my head, dumbfounded. “Did Maddy put you up to this?”
Coach folds his arms. “I make the decisions for this team and its players.”
I gulp. “Yes, Coach.”
“Maddy told me her concerns. I don’t want soccer to get in the way of your studies.”
“It’s not a big deal. I can improve my grades while still playing. Please don’t bench me.”
“I don’t want you at games until your scholarship is out of jeopardy.”
“This isn’t fair,” I complain. “You know you don’t have any other forwards that can do what I do. Do you really want to lose your best striker?”
“It’s moot, Jamie,” Coach says, unmoved by my sass. “You won’t be on the team if you’re kicked out of school. Improve your grades so I can keep my best striker.”
“So, what now? Am I still allowed at practice?”
“Will you let it distract you from your more important goal?”
I frown, crossing my arms. “You know I want to stay in school. I’ll try harder, I promise. Just don’t exclude me from practice. Please?”
“I believe in you, Jamie,” Coach says, holding my gaze. “You’ll be back on the team in no time. But I don’t want you rusty, so yes, you can train with the team. Under one condition.”
My eyes widen. “What is it?”
“You can only practice with the team. I don’t want you messing about with a soccer ball on your own time.”
I screw up my face. “What kind of rule is that?”