“I’d like that.”
I sit down on the bench next to the field and she joins me. My competition. Can she be my friend? The sun is behind the mountain now and the sky lights up with splashes of stars. We watch the mountain darken, the pine forest turning into a deep, dark green. I stretch my legs out; the cool evening air feels great on my bare skin.
For a moment, this place hardly seems like the torture chamber it was most of the day. The pine covered mountains stand firm against the darkening sky, the grass blades sway like lissome dancers in the dim light. Parts of this day were rough, but this place is amazing.
We talk about Brit’s life in Wisconsin, her single mom trying to make ends meet, her boyfriend who dumped her when she left for Washington, how much she misses her brother, and her insecurities about being so far away from home.
I have a friend! I’m glad she’s here. She was assigned to room with Joana, of all people! It isn’t hard to persuade her to join me. No more long showers, but I don’t mind.
Joana can try being alone.
And this week I have a friend. If only I could shake the nagging reality that one of us are going to be cut off the team at the end of the week.
10 Resolve
Lydia
I’m on the balls of my feet, waiting, ready. Joana jogs toward me, smiling. She looks like she’s approaching a longtime friend.
We are teammates; it would be nice if we were friends.
“Hey Thala.”
We’re not friends.
A forward kicks the ball out to the left side, away from us. I step back. We’re practicing defensive schemes when we’re outnumbered 2:1. A breeze comes off the mountain and cools the sweat on my skin.
Joana doesn’t stop until she’s right up next to me, and I tense as her hand rests on my shoulder. Is this what Coach wants her to do? I step away, but she comes right back like a hungry puppy.
I can’t see the ball with her there. I move again, and so does she. She wants me to get upset.
“Coach told me she’s going to cut you and your little friend.” I shrug her hand off my shoulder again. “She doesn’t want you in the team pictures; your ugliness would make the university look bad. Too bad daddy didn’t kill you and save you the embarrassment.”
She pushes off and runs to the ball. I grit my teeth and follow her, stride for stride. Joana gets a pass, I move in for the steal, but she kicks it behind her to the field we just vacated.
My heart drops. I wasn’t supposed to follow her—I’ve made this mistake already today. Another forward filled the spot in my absence, and now she has a clear path to the goal.
The whistle blows. Coach jogs onto the field. Right to me. Joana laughs.
“Miller!” Coach yells. “What were you thinking? You were totally out of position. Is your head in the game? Is it even on this mountain?”
I look down at the turf. “Sorry Coach. I won’t let it happen again.”
“No. I won’t let this happen again. You’re not cut out to play university level soccer. You’re dismissed. Come talk to me after practice so we can work out getting you home. It’s clear you didn’t practice enough this summer, and you’re not going to come up here and try and get your lazy butt back in shape on my watch. You’re done.” Coach Fant turns around. “Sorenson! Get out here.”
Brit jogs out onto the field.
I don’t move.
Cut?
Coach storms off the field, yelling at the forwards to run the play again.
They start the play and Coach yells at me to move out of the way. Brit doesn’t meet my eyes as she runs past me to her position.
I failed. I’ve just been cut from the team. It’s over. I walk numbly off the field. I’m halfway to the lodge before the tears come. It isn’t fair. I’ve worked hard this week, and I’ve done well. Just as well as Brit or Haley. I got distracted by Joana, but I know how to play the game. It’s not my fault I didn’t get enough practice time in this summer.
But, fair or not, I was cut anyway.
I shiver at the blast of cold air that hits my sweat-soaked skin and clothes when I step into the air-conditioned room. I face plant onto the bed, letting my sore body collapse onto the soft blankets.
Maria. Mom. I’ve let them down. They gave so much so I could get here, and I let them down. I’ve worked and sweated.
And in the heat of the moment I messed up.
After crying a while, I sit up and wipe tears away. I look at the mirror. My face is all blotchy now.
I tried to ignore Joana, but her words were mean. I forgot what I was doing.
She was so smug when Coach sent me running off the field. She finally got what she wanted.
My disappointment turns to anger, and I decide that I won’t let her win. Not yet. Not while I’m still here at the lodge. If Coach intends for me to go home, I won’t be able to stay. But as long as I’m still here, I might as well fight for a position on the team. Joana may get to me, but she can’t make me quit. I won’t quit.
This is my scholarship. I’m going to go get it.
Besides, what’s the worst that can happen? I’ve already been cut.
I grab my playbook, wash my face, and jog back to the practice field.
“What are you doing here?” Haley asks when I sit down next to her. “I thought Coach kicked you off the team.”
“Maybe she did.” I sit next to her. “But I’m not quitting until I’m on that bus driving away.”
Haley shrugs and rolls her eyes, pulling up her shirt and shorts to sunbathe while she watches the girls on the field. Brit is doing well; she has a good mastery of the position, moving in sync with the rest of the team. Joana’s mouth is moving the entire time she’s close to Brit. Brit stays in position.
Ears of steel. That’s what I need. Or earplugs.
I flip through the playbook, watching as the players go through each one, moving, flexing, adjusting. It’s a thing of beauty to watch. When I’m out there on the field I’m thinking about the plays and position. But the real beauty of soccer is only evident when a person steps back and sees the entire field.
“I thought I sent you away.” Coach Fant’s voice brings me back to reality. I jump to my feet and face her.
“Yes, Coach. I came up here to play, not sit in my room.”
“You’re still dressed in uniform.”
“Yes, Coach.”
“What makes you think that I’ll ever put you back out on that field, Miller?”
I shrug. “I don’t know that you will, Coach.”
“Well, then. Why are you here?”
I keep my voice steady as I speak. “My mother gave up so much time for me to learn soccer, Coach. I can’t walk away from that. I’m going to keep fighting for a position on this team until I’m tied up and on a bus back to the city.” I look at her eyes, trying to convey confidence despite wanting to disappear under her gaze.
And that gaze doesn’t go away. For minutes Coach stares at me, her expression unreadable. My lip almost quivers.
“So, the rich spoiled girl has some spunk in her after all,” she finally says. She waits for a reaction. I bite my lip.
“Tell me. Are you better than the other two girls?”
Trick question. If I answer yes, she’ll be justified thinking I’m cocky and spoiled. If I say no, then she’ll cut me. A coach will never play a player that doesn’t believe in herself.
“I think we’re all talented. And if I play as sloppily as I did earlier, then you should cut me. But, I already told you it won’t happen again.”
Coach raises an eyebrow and meets my eyes. She almost smiles. “Maybe I don’t have you pegged yet, Miller. You’re welcome to stick around for the rest of practice.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief and sit down. As soon as Coach’s back is turned, my lip quivers and I pull my legs tight against my chest to try and calm my breathing.
“You should have taken the chance to get out when you could,” Haley says.
“I’m not getting o
ut. I’m going to play.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s called seniority. I’ve put in my time, it’s my turn to play. One of you girls will stick around, and it will probably be Brit.”
“I don’t accept that.” I turn back to watching the field.
“Whatever.” Haley goes back to sunbathing.
Whatever is right. Even if I give my all these last two days of camp, I’ll still get cut. I’m just postponing the inevitable right now.
I take a deep breath. I’m not going to quit. I’m going to keep fighting. I owe it to Mom to make this team. This is my scholarship.
✽✽✽
I toss the plush ball back to Brit, aiming it right at her face. She plucks it out of the air midsentence and keeps talking—like a fly she just shooed away.
“I’m serious. Now that he’s gone, I really am happy we broke up.”
The ball flies back toward me. “That’s what all girls say after being dumped. It doesn’t mean it’s true, though. Tell me one thing you hate about him.”
Brit laughs. “That’s easy.”
“Then say it.”
“He was always talking about extraterrestrial worlds. He believed that aliens came from other places and settled in America a long time ago.”
“Really?” I’m not sure this is something Brit hated about her ex-boyfriend, but having never had a boyfriend, I’m doing my best to relate.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, maybe you really are happier without him.” Brit’s throw is a little high, and I miss it. I walk around the bed and reach around the office chair to grab it.
“He said the aliens all had this mark of a blue flower,” Brit says. “Based on some story from the Revolutionary War. And he really thought that there were people with this mark.”
“A blue flower?” I don’t throw the ball back. Other worlds and blue flowers. Blue, like the light that was on the trail when the man found me.
“Uh huh. Stupid, huh?”
The only thing stupid here is how my hands are clammy and my throat is dry.
I pull my shirt off over my head. “Like this?”
Brit stares at my chest. The blue flower peaks out from beneath my bra, just as real-looking as always. A puzzled look crosses her face. “Yeah. Exactly like that. He has a poster of that exact flower in his bedroom.”
“Exactly like it?” My voice is a little shaky.
Brit nods.
This is really weird. I slip my shirt on and toss the ball back to Brit. “Maybe he wasn’t as crazy as you think.”
Brit catches the ball, but she’s still looking at me strangely. “Where did you get that?”
“I don’t know.” I wish I knew. And I wish I knew why I felt so weird to learn about it being on Brit’s crazy boyfriend’s poster.
A knock at the door ends the conversation. Brit is closer to the door, so she swings it open.
“May I come in?” Coach Fant asks.
Neither of us dare say no.
Coach crosses the room and sits at the small desk in the corner. The desk is littered with plays. I’ve scribbled notes on most of them. Coach picks them up and flips through them.
“You’ve been working hard.”
We both nod.
“And you’ve become friends.”
We nod again.
Coach takes a deep breath and sets the plays down.
“I’ve asked Haley to leave the team,” Coach says. “Her heart isn’t in it, not as much as you girls. Neither of you have her skill, but you have more grit than she ever will.”
We stare at her in shock. I bite my lip to stop a smile.
“I thought...”
“I know,” Coach interrupts. “I know. I thought you were another Haley. But this afternoon you proved me wrong. One of the other girls told me about your dad after dinner tonight. We have our first game in two weeks. Miller, will you be ready to start?”
Several seconds tick by before I remember to speak. “Yes, Coach.” My voice is barely audible.
“Sorenson, you’ll be the backup.”
“Yes, Coach.” Brit is beaming. She doesn’t feel the same need to suppress her emotion.
Coach nods. She looks tired, but as strict as ever. “We have a lot of work to do this year. We’ll make it happen. Work hard, or I’ll cut you anyway.”
We don’t start screaming until the door latches shut behind her. I don’t know why we bother. Our screams are so loud I’m sure she hears us all the way back to her room.
11 Roommates
Lydia
We won the season opener at the University of Michigan. I had several key stops and Joana scored the winning goal with under ten minutes left.
We’re on the plane flying back to Seattle now, and I’m sitting next to Brit. We picked seats as far away from Joana as possible—which means we’re sitting at the very back of the plane. It’ll take us longer to deplane, and we’ll get similarly poor seats on the bus, but we don’t care.
“How is school treating you?” Brit asks.
I shrug and look up from the book I’m only pretending to read. “First day was okay. Second day wasn’t. You?”
“I really like my classes a lot so far.”
“Really?”
Brit doesn’t strike me as someone who would be that into school, but she nods.
“What are you studying?” I ask, trying to picture my demure friend as a nerd.
“Chemistry.”
“Nerdy! I can’t stand chemistry. Something about studying things you can’t see drives me crazy.”
Brit laughs. “A lot of people complain that chemistry has too much memorization. But, how are you supposed to understand the world if you don’t know what’s in it? What are you studying?”
I sigh and lean back in my chair. I’m not a nerd about anything. “I don’t know. I’m not good at anything but soccer. I probably need to figure out what I want to do with my life before I make any decisions about what I want to study.”
“You’re really good at soccer,” Brit says, and she squeezes my hand. “I would have felt so much pressure out there, under the lights for the first time, but you played like you couldn’t feel it.”
“I did.”
“I love watching you,” Brit says, her eyes looking down at her lap as she blushes, but she continues her adulation. “That was such a great stop you had there in the tenth minute. Maybe when I grow up, I’ll play like you.”
“And maybe when I grow up, I’ll study like you.” I laugh and look down at the novel in my hand and the text book on Brit’s lap. Even though Brit would never believe it, she’s the better player. The only thing I have on her is confidence. And, the only one I can thank for that is Mom. I was raised on the soccer field. How many girls are lucky enough to say that?
“I’m fine with the way things are right now.” Brit smiles. “By the end of the season, I’ll be able to tell you about every stadium in the PAC 12, and who has the most comfortable benches.”
I laugh. Brit is happier now than when I first met her at camp. I wish I could say the same for myself.
“Have you met any new friends?”
She turns bright red.
“A boy?”
“Yeah, I met this really cute guy from San Jose. I’ve seen him every day since I moved into my dorm.” She looks down at her hands and smiles.
“No way!”
“Yeah, he’s really cute and really smart.”
“That’s fun.” I hope Brit’s right and this guy really is nice. Brit deserves someone good. Someone who will take care of her, not take advantage of her.
“Have you met any boys, Lydia?”
Boys? I shake my head. The only guys I’ve met so far are obsessed about beer, video games, and sex. Not that any of them have tried to talk to me, of course.
“Is there something bothering you?” Brit asks.
I shrug and look back at my novel. I hate it when I’m so transparent.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don�
��t want to. I just want you to know I’m here for you.”
I shake my head. How can I tell her that I don’t belong? That the only place I’m at home is on the soccer field? And, that I’m going crazy thinking about some strange connection to a blue flower and another world.
✽✽✽
Cool air from the AC makes me shiver when I walk into our room. I set the basket of clothes on Maria’s bed, next to the other five baskets. It’s going to take her a long time to unpack.
I brought my stuff from the house, but I unpacked one box and left the other in the corner of the closet. That box holds a lot of mementos, but very few clothes. I put a picture of me and Mom on the wall, and my old cell phone rests on the dresser. That’s all I need out.
“I’m finally here!” Maria walks in behind me holding another large basket of clothes. Her parents made her go through two weeks of school before they finally decided to give her permission to move down here. She arrived late last night and then left for a party without even unloading her car, which means that we’re spending the morning doing that.
Which, of course, is fine.
“I heard about another party tonight,” Maria finds a huge pack of bubble gum in one of her many baskets and pulls it out. “After your soccer game. Is there any way I can convince you to come?”
“No.”
“There will be lots of boys there.” She winks.
It would be fun to meet some guys and actually talk to them. And if I was with Maria, they probably would talk to me. But, I’m not going. Not when all the guys will be drinking. I can still smell Dad’s breath that night he hit me. Besides, all the boys would think I’m the ugliest girl they’ve ever seen, and if they’re drunk, they’re more likely to tell me straight up.
“I’m not going to go.” In just a few minutes, Maria will slip into a bright summer dress, add sunglasses and red lipstick, and head out to the party. And then tonight will be just like the last two weeks. I’ll slip into some comfy pajamas and spend the evening by myself. I’m like a mom who sends her kindergartener off to school each day, curling up in bed with a novel as soon as the house quiets down.
The Forgotten World Page 8