Chapter 42
“Good luck, Kai,” Grandma says, pressing on my shoulder until I bend my knees so she can kiss my cheek.
I squint one eye closed as she tugs on my side. “Thanks, Grandma.”
Grandpa roughly pats my back. “You don’t need luck, sonny. You’ll knock ’em dead.”
I smirk at him. “You know it, Grandpa.”
I can’t help looking for Tabby before the game starts. When I’m supposed to run onto the field, I check my phone and find a text from her.
"We’re running late. Corbin’s sick."
I chuck my phone into the duffle bag, which lies near my parents’ feet.
Dang. I wanted Tabby to see me lead the team onto the field and win the coin toss.
At least the toss goes my way, and the game begins smoothly. Hopefully, Dr. Jones stays home with Corbin. My shoulders loosen at the thought of not seeing him today.
The team we’re playing is the only one we haven’t won against this season. Last time was a draw, and I’m not letting anything that humiliating happen again.
Dang, this team has been working on their skills.
Their ball control is on point, and the speed and distance of their passes are stellar.
No other team has had me panting for breath so early into the first half.
I fan out my shirt as I wait for someone to retrieve the ball after it leaves the boundary line.
Gross. I’m sweating already. Once I wipe the clamminess from my forehead, I watch the other team pass square to a forward.
He’s mine.
To steal the ball, I slide out my leg. Anticipating me, the other player flicks the ball into the air. Basically lying on the grass, I watch the ball leapfrog over me, and then a sting of intense pain.
That ignoramus ran into my leg, kicking my shin.
I grind my teeth together, breathing through the pain, and hear hisses and grunts from the crowd.
Picking myself up, I scan the onlookers.
My grandparents are cheering me on with stars in their eyes.
Even though it’s a confidence boost, I avoid my parents at all costs.
They’re still against me taking risks on the field.
In a delightful twist, my gaze lands on Tabitha.
Just when my heart is about to zing, my body shudders like I’m pressed against a speaker, playing death metal.
Standing next to my girlfriend, with his arms crossed and a stern expression, is Dr. Jones.
Crap.
Tabby blows me a kiss, and it feels like my head screws back on.
Shaking it off, I make a break for where the ball is in play.
The other team has a free kick and I race to mark a player.
After the whistle blows, my opponent and I struggle to get in front of each other.
When the ball scuttles our way, our feet trample in front of one another.
As I’m wondering if he or I will hit the ground first, Dr. Jones pushes his way into my brain. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, feeling him analyzing my every move.
While I’m stuck in my head, the other player gets the ball. He’s racing up the field, dribbling the ball, and I want to slap myself.
“Nelson!” Coach Lyle calls from the sidelines. “Where are you? Get on the ball!”
I crack my neck from side to side and race to catch up. Paul has gotten control of the ball and I move into a space where he can see me. After I call, “I’m open,” Paul kicks the ball hard in my direction.
Out of nowhere, an opposing player darts across the field and steals the ball.
Not again!
I gain on him, fighting for possession. Adrenaline and frustration boils inside me, and it’s a battle not to shove this guy out of the way. I can’t afford the penalty, the yelling from Coach Lyle, or the disapproval from Dr. Jones.
Ugh. Dr. Jones.
Oof!
The other player charges me and I’m knocked backward onto my butt. Now, staring at the overcast sky, the adrenaline drowns into humiliation.
I’m better than this.
Why am I letting this team beat me?
I roll my head to the side and view Tabitha and her father.
Because of him.
Dang it, because his approval matters.
I’m not letting him find a reason I shouldn’t be with his daughter.
I won’t give her up. I won’t let anyone take her away from me.
Even if it means not playing my best. I’m not getting injured or putting myself in a dangerous predicament.
I’ll do nothing that proves Dr. Jones’s claims that I’m a menace.
Although, maybe playing it safe isn’t worth it. I keep getting my butt whooped.
I pull myself up and dust myself off. Coach is yelling from the sidelines, but he’s garbled, almost like there’s a wall between us.
I stretch my arms above my head, twisting, as I watch the gameplay in the goal circle.
Tyler is defending the goal, but our defense isn’t backing him up, and the other team sneaks in a goal.
The whistle blows, and I watch the defeat drain life from my teammates. Tyler gains my attention, throwing his arms up with aggravation. Telepathically, I hear him asking, “Where were you?”
As if the words will get back to him, I think, “On my butt.”
We end the first half one-nil to the other team. In our huddle, I do my best to zone out Coach’s bellowing. But some of it sneaks in.
Like when he asks, “Did you hit your head, Nelson?"
Or when he says, “Usually I have to scream at you not to hog the ball. Now, I’m wondering if you’ve grown a phobia."
And Coach's last dig, “What happened to my winning-obsessed stricker? Will you get it together for this second half?”
I tell him yes, but I’m weighed down by the pressure. We start the second half, but it isn’t any better than the first. My head is on the sidelines.
Any opportunity I have to charge another player, I pull back.
My one touches Coach drilled into me are sloppy, becoming two or three touches, and losing my team valuable time.
The other team scores another two times, and then the game is put out of its misery.
I shake hands with the other team, avoiding their lingering smirks of victory. I make it to the sidelines before Tyler can berate me for my less than ideal performance.
Coach wants us all gathered round for a final talk. I hang at the back, guzzling from a water bottle and hoping to drown out his words.
Yeah, it wasn’t a superstar performance.
But this isn’t under regular circumstances.
I was being scrutinized by a man who’s coming around to the idea of not hating me.
Last night, he ended our dinner, almost liking me.
It was weird. I can’t jeopardize that progress.
Tabitha is more important than a game. And this sport is half my life.
But I won’t let a field injury put Dr. Jones against me.
I’m not giving the man any reasons to tell Tabitha to end things with me for good.
Once Coach Lyle is done with us, I dump my water bottle, and my grandparents are quick to move in.
“You did your best, kid,” Grandma says, with her fists clenched like she’s about to cheer again. “No one can say you didn’t give it your all.”
“We’re proud of you, Kai,” Grandpa boasts. “You’ve got skills, and no one can take that away from you.”
I thank them both and then slip past my parents. When Mom and Dad give me their sympathies, I tell them I’ll be right back.
It’s time to face the music. At a fast pace, I make it down to where Tabitha and her dad were watching the game.
“I’m sorry that you lost,” Tabby says with a perfect pout. “You still played really well, though.”
I smirk. “No, I didn’t.”
“Are you kidding?” she gushes. “You’re so fast, and you keep fighting. Dad and I were chatting about it throughout the match.”
I suck in a breath and bravely look at Dr. Jones.
He extends his hand to me. “Good effort, Kai.”
I shake his hand. “Thanks, sir.”
“Tabby tells me you usually win these games.”
I nod. “This is our first loss. Doesn’t feel too good.”
“You’ll be fine,” Dr. Jones says with a curving smile. “Losing is humbling. You know what they say, ‘pride comes before a fall.’”
There’s an ache in my chest and I breathe it loose. I glance at Tabby and my shoulders droop.
The first time we texted after a soccer game, she mentioned what her father says about pride. I took it as an insult. But now, when he looks at me with admiration and respect, I indeed feel humble.
“Thanks, Dr. Jones. I’ll admit, I’d prefer if you saw me win, but I’m feeling better about the loss.”
He pats my shoulder. “Fantastic. Perhaps you’re growing up?”
My brow raises with skepticism. “Crazier things have happened.”
Tabby clasps my hand, swinging it gently. “You look happy, Kai.”
“How could I not be,” I launch into full sap mode as I squeeze her hand, “when I’m with you?”
Tabby giggles, bending a knee as she sways with bashfulness.
“Okay, okay,” Dr. Jones says with a chuckle. “I don’t need to witness any serenading. Kai, I’m guessing you’re going home now?”
I pull at my jersey. “Yeah, I’m gross.”
He turns to his daughter. “We’ll head home, and you can see Kai later today.”
Tabby bounces on the balls of her feet. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
I peck Tabby’s cheek and say goodbye to both of them. Tabby and I are both visibly happy to leave it at that. Dr. Jones allowed us to hang out without either of us asking. I call that a seal of approval.
“Thanks for your help out there,” Tyler grumbles, pulling his gym bag over his shoulder.
I brush him off. “Gimme a break, man.”
“Great attitude from a guy who wants to be a solo team captain,” he digs.
“It’s not my fault we lost,” I argue. “I’m not the whole team.”
“Except when we win,” Tyler snipes. “In that case, you are the whole team.”
“Look, it sucks we lost. That’s a given. But you gave it your all. Yeah, they got three past you, but you stopped more.”
“Yeah, I was defending,” Tyler says, walking away. “I barely saw you up at the goal circle.”
My back stiffens from the palpable resentment thrown my way.