Faith’s heart sank. She’d forgotten he wasn’t coaching tonight’s game. She strained not to show her disappointment.
“I’ll make it,” she said, beaming.
He paused, still looking at her. “How’s the situation at home? Finding time to get your homework done?”
She had the urge to rush behind his desk and hug him. “Kinda.”
“Great. So … you’ll have your nutrition paper turned in next week?”
She nodded.
“Have a good game this afternoon.” He lowered his eyes.
Moving slowly, Faith rose and lifted her backpack. She stopped in front of his desk.
He looked up.
“I, uh, was just wondering.” She reached out and touched a pen in his pencil cup. “I was wondering about the name of your cologne?”
His eyes widened a little.
“I need to buy a gift for someone. A guy. A guy friend. And I noticed yours when we were in the equipment shed. It smelled nice.”
“Um, I’m not sure. It’s something my wife buys for me.”
His wife. Oh. Faith lowered her head but stayed rooted to the floor.
“Don’t you have a class to go to?” he asked.
She nodded. “See you later.” She waved and trotted out the classroom.
In the hallway, just outside the door, Faith leaned against the wall and knocked her fist against her forehead. What is wrong with me? she wondered. Taking a deep breath, she straightened up and walked toward math.
She was crushing on her teacher-slash-soccer coach. It didn’t get much lamer than that.
W
hether having a crush on Coach Berg was lame or not, Faith ran home after school feeling focused. She wanted to work a little more on her nutrition paper before she left for soccer.
Her mom stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, her shoulders rounded. She looked up when Faith walked in. “Can you finish these?”
“I’ve got homework. I’ll do them later.”
“Then will you please sit with Antim?”
Faith rolled her eyes.
“Astha,” her mom scolded. “He still has a fever. I’m worried.”
“I thought it was just a cold.”
Her mom shrugged, her entire body sagging with the effort. “I’m not sure.”
Faith sighed. “Fine. You’d better get some sleep.” She stepped into the boys’ bedroom. Vijay wasn’t there. He and Hamsa must still be walking home from elementary school. Antim was curled up on his bed, mumbling softly. His damp hair stuck to his forehead.
“Hey, little Ant Man,” Faith murmured.
He didn’t open his eyes.
Faith tiptoed to her bedroom, then returned with her laptop and sat on Vijay’s bed. The sweeping way the covers were thrown aside, she knew her mom had slept there that day. Antim is okay, she told herself. The kids had been sick before. They’d all gotten over it. She opened her Word doc.
“Okay. Carrot sticks instead of potato chips.”
. . .
Faith had wanted to get to the field early to practice—and to talk with Caitlyn. She had to get this photo thing straightened out. But her mom needed the sleep, and Faith left home at the last minute.
As she stretched her hamstrings, Faith noticed the chatter was louder than usual. The laughter had a sharp edge. That night’s conference game was against the Midtown High Muddogs, one of Fraser’s biggest rivals. The Copperheads were on top of the conference standings, but the Muddogs would tie them with a win tonight. Balding and paunchy Coach Simmons paced in front of the bench, checking his clipboard again and again. Coach Berg must have had something really important going on to miss this match.
Several yards away, Caitlyn stretched her calves. She looked up as if she felt Faith staring. After a quick glare, she looked away. Faith shook her head. What was her problem? Faith decided she couldn’t wait until after the match to find out.
“Three laps!” Coach Simmons yelled.
Instead of running ahead of everyone like she usually did, Faith hung back. She waited until Caitlyn caught up and jogged next to her.
“Hi, pet,” Caitlyn said. “How’s it going with Coach?”
Faith rolled her eyes. She looked ahead and over her shoulder to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Do you want money or something?” she whispered. “Because I don’t have any.”
Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t sent that photo to anyone else, have you?”
Caitlyn paused. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Well, I don’t think you have. So what do you want?”
“Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”
“Why? Because I hit you with my elbow? I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you should be.”
“Okay. I’ve apologized. Now will you explain why you suddenly hate me so much?”
Caitlyn jogged silently for a few strides, her jaw muscles flexing. Finally, she said, “Coach wouldn’t let me change positions when I asked him. I don’t know what makes you so special.” She glared at Faith. “And just for the record, I really was asking you to coffee last week. Would it kill you to be friendly once in a while?” She sped up.
Faith slowed her run, wanting to put even more distance between them. What had Caitlyn meant about asking Coach to change positions? And she was accusing Faith of being unfriendly? Yeah, Faith kept to herself. But it wasn’t like she pushed people away. People pushed her away.
Whether she liked being benched or not, starting the match on the sideline gave Faith time to think. She stared at the ground, pondering what Caitlyn had told her. It was true Faith didn’t interact much with other players. She could see how someone might see that as being unfriendly. And, she had to admit, when Caitlyn had reached out to her last week, her response had been silence and a dropped jaw. Faith crossed her arms. She had her reasons. It wasn’t fair for Caitlyn to judge her so harshly.
Faith steered her train of thought toward the match. The ball was on the Copperheads’ side of the field. Caitlyn was crowding a Muddog forward, keeping the forward’s back to the goal. Caitlyn was tall and big-boned, and seemed at a glance to move awkwardly. But she was quick and more athletic than she appeared. She was persistent too. She kept on the ball like she was personally offended it was in her zone. Without a view of the net, the Muddog forward had to pass.
Caitlyn had her personal faults, but she was a good soccer player. It suddenly struck Faith: goalkeeper. She bet that was the position Caitlyn had asked Coach Berg if she could play. But of course, Coach had refused to switch her. Unlike Faith, Caitlyn was too valuable to the team as a defender.
The Muddog forwards weren’t getting past Caitlyn. So they started focusing on the other side of the field, running Olivia and Addie ragged. Twenty minutes into the first half, a striker slipped between Olivia and Addie and scored.
“Patel?” Coach Simmons called, looking around the bench.
Faith jumped up.
“Go in for Williams.” Then he yelled, “Williams!” He waved at Addie. “Keep it tight out there!” he called to the defenders.
Addie was panting heavily when she slapped Faith’s hand coming in. Faith went to her position between Caitlyn and Olivia. She took a deep breath. Since she was a sub, the Muddogs might try to test her early. She’d have to be ready. She glanced at Caitlyn for some reason, wishing she would look back at her. But Caitlyn stared straight ahead, all business.
T
he Muddogs seized possession as soon as the half started. With the ball at midfield, Faith and the other Copperhead defenders hustled back toward their goal.
A Muddog midfielder passed to one of her strikers. The girl tried to skirt around Caitlyn, who kept herself in front of the ball like a brick wall on cleats. The striker passed to another attacker, who ran to meet the cross in front of Faith. Faith sprinted to intercept the ball before the striker could get there.
Faith had the skil
ls to make the play. An okay play. What was the difference between her and Caitlyn, she wondered as she ran. Passion? Faith didn’t have it. That was why she spent most of her time on the bench. It had nothing to do with being at midfield or defense or wherever. It had to do with desire—with wanting to play her best. She wanted that fierce feeling.
With a surge of urgency, Faith picked up speed and slid into the ball just as the striker pulled back her leg to kick. The ball shot behind the striker. It was a clean tackle, and the ref didn’t call a foul. Elise took possession for the Copperheads and drove down the field.
Panting, her adrenalin pumping, Faith sprinted back into position.
“Wow, Faith,” Olivia called. “Nice tackle.”
“Thanks.” Faith felt good, like something had clicked. She glanced over at Caitlyn, who still didn’t look at her. Why was she being so stubborn?
Addie returned to the match later in the second half, and Faith headed back to the bench.
. . .
By game’s end, the Copperheads had squeaked out a 3–2 win. Coach Simmons, relieved, couldn’t stop congratulating everyone. Faith saw Caitlyn leaving the field with Olivia and Addie. She trotted and caught up with them.
“Hey. Can you talk a minute?”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes but stopped walking.
“See you at Madison’s party, Cait,” Olivia called.
Caitlyn waved. “Yeah. See ya later.” She crossed her arms and stared at Faith. “What?”
Faith suddenly forgot what she was going to say. Madison, a Copperhead midfielder, was having a party. And no one had invited her.
Caitlyn must have seen the disappointment on her face. Her scowl softened. “Um. You can come, if you want. I’m sure Maddie won’t care.”
“No, that’s okay.” She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to tell you I’m really sorry about elbowing you. And I’m sorry if I seem unfriendly. I don’t mean to be.”
“Then why are you?”
Faith shrugged. “I like to keep to myself.”
“Ohhh-kay? Personally, I don’t get it, but it’s a free country.”
Without thinking, Faith blurted, “I have to take care of my brothers and sister. My … dad died. And my mom works nights. I couldn’t go to Madison’s party if I wanted to. I couldn’t have gone to coffee with you either.”
Caitlyn’s eyes widened.
Faith sighed. “Sorry.”
Caitlyn’s shoulders rose and fell as she took deep breath. “I didn’t know you had all that stuff going on at home. Can you at least, like, go out on your mom’s days off? I mean, she doesn’t work seven days a week, does she?”
Faith shook her head. Then she said, “You asked Coach about playing goalie, didn’t you?”
Caitlyn frowned. “Good guess, Sherlock. He said we have too many keepers already, and he needed me where I was. The jerk wouldn’t even consider it. Oops,” she said sarcastically, “Sorry for calling him a jerk. I know you’re into him.”
Faith didn’t respond.
Caitlyn’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t blow half as much as the fact that he seems to like you too.” She crossed her arms.
“Caitlyn, seriously—what do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
Faith’s eyes widened as it struck her. Caitlyn wasn’t jealous because Coach Berg was switching Faith to midfield. She was jealous because he was paying attention to Faith and not her.
“You like Coach Berg!” Faith said. “You’re mad at him, not me.”
Caitlyn pressed her lips together, face flushed, then turned on her heels and marched off.
“Caitlyn.”
Faith started to follow but stopped when she heard a familiar horn honking. Looking toward the parking lot, she saw her mom waving at her from the Subaru. Faith trotted to the car, wondering what was going on. She usually walked home if the game ended before eight.
Through the window, she saw Vijay in the front seat. Antim lay in the back, wrapped in a blanket with his head on Hamsa’s lap. Faith jumped in, lifting Antim’s feet and lowering them onto her legs.
“What’s going on?” Faith asked her mom.
“Antim had a seizure. We’re going to the hospital.”
T
he ride to the emergency room was silent and grim. So was the wait in the hospital lobby. Her mom vanished with Antim down a corridor while Faith sat with Vijay and Hamsa, who immediately got out her phone and started texting. Faith didn’t tell her not to. Vijay sat quietly reading a kid’s magazine.
“I think there are toys in that box over there,” Faith said.
He shrugged.
She knew they were scared, just like she was. Faith settled into her seat and folded her hands in her lap. She wished she’d grabbed her iPod out of her backpack. She felt like she couldn’t take a deep enough breath.
Please, let him be okay, Faith repeated silently over and over. Vijay and Hamsa were too young to remember the endless hours spent in hospital waiting rooms when their father was sick. But Faith remembered. She didn’t want to go through that again. She couldn’t.
It was an hour later when her mom, hair askew and face flat, trudged down the hallway. Faith thought her heart would stop. She didn’t breathe again until she saw her mom slowly smile.
“He’s okay. Dr. Effron says he was severely dehydrated. They’re giving him an IV, and then we can take him home.”
“Can we go see him?” Faith asked, tears pooling in her eyes.
Her mom nodded.
. . .
Knowing Antim was okay was a huge relief. Faith doted on him over the weekend, reading him stories and filling his old sippy cup with water and juice. But the close call also reminded her just how much looking after her siblings had worn on her. While she’d been stuck in the hospital worrying if Antim was going to live or die, Caitlyn and the other Copperheads were partying. After every game and practice, Faith had to rush home so her mom could sleep or go to work. It was just like she’d told Caitlyn: Faith had no time for friends.
She felt frustrated, angry, and—when she could admit it—guilty. Her mom assured Faith it wasn’t her fault Antim had a seizure. But what if it was? What if she’d paid more attention to him, made sure he drank enough water when she was babysitting? Faith wasn’t cut out for nannying. She was desperate to leave home. She had to graduate and get a job, any kind of job, so she could be on her own.
. . .
On Saturday, Faith finished her nutrition paper and made up a couple chem assignments too. Sunday night, she sat on her bed reading English homework. She leaned her head against the wall, thinking about apartments. They cost money—especially studios or one bedrooms. More than she’d ever make working at an entry-level job.
She shook her head and looked back at her textbook. Focus. While she didn’t understand half of what Shakespeare wrote, some of his sonnets did strike her as pretty romantic.
Closing her eyes, Faith thought about Coach Berg … Alan. He was a bright spot in her life. The only person who treated her kindly, who seemed to appreciate what she was going through. She wondered what he was doing at that moment. Was it possible he was thinking of her?
Faith jumped up and rummaged through her backpack. She found the printout of Caitlyn’s photo and returned with it to her bed. Carefully unfolding it, she studied the image: his fingers touching hers, his tender gaze, his warm smile.
He did like her. She was sure of it.
And she liked him. She had to stop fighting her feelings. So what if he was older, or her teacher?
It suddenly occurred to Faith that Caitlyn had done her a favor by taking the picture. And Faith didn’t care who she sent it to. The image simply proved what Faith already knew—that she and Coach Alan Berg were in love.
. . .
Stuffing her backpack with a change of clothes, Faith left the house Monday morning at six thirty. Alan had told her she needed to work on dribbling and striking to play midfield. She’d decided to practice until she d
ropped.
When she got to the nice neighborhood on her way to Fraser High, Faith slowed and stopped in front of one of her favorite houses. The white cottage had a picket fence surrounding a neatly mown lawn and yellow rosebushes. Early morning sun glinted off the two front windows framed with blue shutters. Faith wasn’t sure why the old-fashioned house appealed to her. It just looked … cozy. She imagined cooking Alan breakfast before he headed off to work every morning. Maybe he’d pay her tuition to go to college.
Once at the track, Faith glanced at the equipment shed. Alan wasn’t there. With so much to discuss, they needed time alone. Her cheeks warmed as it dawned on her that she and Alan hadn’t yet kissed. Maybe it was time they did.
A
fter her morning practice, Faith showered and dressed in the jeans and shirt she’d brought with her. During lunch, she camped out in the restroom. Her mom had given her a makeup kit two Christmases ago. She’d hardly ever used it. But she’d thrown it in her backpack that morning, along with her best clothes.
Leaning over the restroom sink, she gingerly applied some mascara. She used lipstick instead of gloss. After brushing her hair, she tipped the perfume bottle she’d “borrowed” from her mom onto her wrists and neck. Stepping back, Faith hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. She nodded. It was exactly the effect she was going for.
Alan was standing outside the health classroom when Faith arrived, talking to Mr. Cho, one of the social studies teachers. Not wanting to awkwardly wait around, she headed inside to her desk and sat there, heart pounding. Grabbing her textbook and notebook out of her backpack, she listened as Alan and Mr. Cho laughed. The conversation moved briskly but quietly, as the men went back and forth in low voices, and Faith couldn’t hear what they said. Finally, Mr. Cho slapped Alan on the back and left. Faith quickly removed the nutrition paper from her notebook. Taking a deep breath, she rose from her desk.
A student rushed into the classroom. “Hey, Coach! There’s a fight down the hall!”
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