Chapter 12 #3
Wren chuckled, low and rough. “You’re not alone. We’d be up two to nothing if you were out there.” She looked up quickly and caught Becky’s eyes. “Never thought I’d say this, but I really miss having you on the field with me.”
Becky huffed out a laugh. “Only because I’m on your team this time.”
“Well, yeah. You suck to play against. You’re like running into a brick wall.” Wren bumped her shoulder against Becky’s before jogging off to stretch with the other starting players.
Fifteen minutes into the second half, Portugal scored again. It had been entirely Ali’s fault. Becky wanted to scream. That meant it was her fault. If she hadn’t gotten so drunk at the after-party last time, she would be on the pitch right now.
“Rothschild,” Coach T’s voice cut through Becky’s rage. “Warm up. Now.”
Becky nodded, giving her coach a thumbs up over the heads of her other teammates.
She’d have about five minutes to get game ready.
She could do this. She jogged and stretched behind the bench, passing with one of the trainers as she went.
She hadn’t come off the bench for a game since she had been about seven.
Knowing her team was already down a point sent a wave of adrenaline through her. She’d just have to make up for it.
“You ready?” Coach Jameson asked.
Becky nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Go make the difference.”
Becky subbed in for Ali, accepting Wren’s high five as she jogged past. Her fresh legs against the Portuguese team’s tired forwards had her eating them alive.
They couldn’t get a clean pass through. And more importantly, she fed Wren and Courtney everything she could.
The tide shifted almost instantaneously.
There was something to be said for suddenly playing with your long-time rival.
Wren was across the field from her, the left side forward to her right side defender, but that made finding open space for Wren all the easier.
She knew exactly where Wren would run before she even had a clean touch on the ball.
She’d become so used to tracking her that she didn’t need to even look up to do it anymore.
Becky picked the ball easily from one of the midfielder’s on the other team and cleared the ball up the field, perfectly within reach of Wren’s stride.
It only took Wren three touches before she had entirely cleared the other team’s defensive line.
With one perfect touch, Wren found Courtney Sinclair’s forehead across the field and they had leveled the game.
Wren and Courtney slid in synchronized celebration towards the fans, but the second Wren popped up, she was clapping theatrically towards Becky, throwing her a beaming smile and a thumbs up immediately after.
Becky returned her smile and thumbs up, but she stayed completely focused.
Her eyes checked the clock. They still had twelve minutes left of the match, and they’d probably have a few minutes of stoppage time as well.
She’d need to get the ball up the field again, which meant she couldn’t let Portugal hang on to it for long.
Disruption was going to be key for the rest of play.
Fortunately, Becky was kind of infamous for her aggression, and she had no reason to keep any energy saved up for another half.
Any ball that came even remotely close to her was promptly taken and sent up the field.
She slid, she threw a few elbows, but she kept her play clean enough to not attract attention from the referees.
She didn’t want to be the player who turned over a set piece, but she also refused to relent.
She sent a perfect through ball up the sidelines.
Brittany Holcomb, her right winger, was quick to press farther down the line.
Becky shifted up with her, quickly glancing at the time clock.
They only had ninety seconds left of the match.
Becky shifted farther forward than she normally would, signaling to Danielle Rodriguez that she was pushing ahead.
Brittany found her feet easily, open and ready.
Becky crossed the ball, getting a clear pass through heavy coverage to Erin Rice, the center midfielder.
And with one flick of her foot, Erin found Wren.
Becky had hated Wren for her footwork for the last four years, but as her teammate, it was a joy to watch her work.
Wren sliced through the last of Portugal’s defenders and buried the ball in the back of the net.
Wren sprinted across the field, headed right towards her.
Becky braced for impact, Wren had never run at her like that in joy.
She sure as hell had never leapt into her arms. Becky caught her, spinning her around, demanding her heart to not react, and absolutely not letting her mind lose focus. After a few spins, she put Wren down.
“Hell yeah, Rebecca,” Wren yelled in her ear over the thundering applause of the stadium.
The rest of the team had circled them for a big group hug, but Becky really couldn’t think about anything other than the fact that Wren had run to her to celebrate first.