Training Ground

by Kate Christie

  Emma was glad the light from the nearby lamppost wasn’t bright enough to reveal her pink cheeks. “No comment,” she said, and stood up, stretching. “And on that note…”

  Jamie rose beside her, arching her back. “Damn, I must be out of shape.”

  “Or it could be you played five games in four days,” Emma pointed out.

  “Six, actually.”

  “That’s right, you guys made it to the finals, didn’t you? Sorry you didn’t win.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I stayed for the game. It was either that or hang out watching my father work on his laptop.”

  “Sounds thrilling.”

  “Doesn’t it? I’m actually lucky I ran you into you tonight. This was a much better way to spend the last night at Surf Cup.”

  “I completely agree.” Jamie glanced at her watch. “I should probably get back before my mom kills me, though.”

  They gathered up the remains of their snacks, and then Jamie held out her arm, her voice teasing as she asked, “May I walk you home, miss?”

  “Why yes, you may.” Emma linked her arm through Jamie’s, wondering at her own almost giddy response to Jamie’s flirty tone. Jamie might be hot, but Emma had a boyfriend. Besides, even though she had thought about kissing a girl—quite a bit, actually—she had yet to do so in real life. Somehow the shadows in Jamie’s eyes told her that tonight was not the time to start, no matter how much she might be tempted. And here on this bluff, far from her everyday life, she was tempted. A cute girl smiling into her eyes, a beautiful sunset over the ocean, the moon rising through gently swaying palm trees—it all added up to one of the more romantic moments of her life.

  But she wasn’t here for romance, she reminded herself as they retraced their earlier steps. She was here for the chance to continue to develop her game, which would help her get to the next level—the under-19s, then the under-23s, and then, eventually, if she was lucky, the senior national team. That was her goal, and nothing else was nearly as important.

  She almost stumbled when Jamie paused on the paved walkway, her eyes fixed on the property that abutted the park. It was lit up against the night sky, and through gaps in the fence they could see a pool, hot tub, and wisteria-lined deck on one side of the massive house, a manicured lawn extending toward the cliff on the other.

  “Can you imagine living like that?” Jamie asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “No,” Emma admitted. “Even if I had that kind of money, I wouldn’t spend it on a house.”

  “What would you spend it on?”

  “I don’t know. Probably medicine for third world countries, or education reform or animal protection. No one needs that much stuff.”

  Jamie was smiling again. “See? I knew you were the conscientious type.”

  “Whatever.” Emma tugged her back onto the trail. “Let’s get you back before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  They returned to the lamp-lit main road, arms still linked, chatting easily as they passed in and out of the shadows. A little past the halfway point, an approaching car slowed and a guy leaned out the window.

  “Muff divers!” he shouted, pairing the insult with a crude gesture.

  Beside her Emma felt Jamie stiffen, and she quickly held her back as she made a move toward the car. “Let it go. They’re jackasses. Not even worth it.”

  After a moment, Jamie gave in and kept walking. The car speeded up again and roared away, and Emma let out a breath of relief. What the hell? Guys could be such assholes. Usually she thanked the gods she had been born in the US instead of some tiny country where women weren’t even allowed to go to school, let alone play soccer. And yet, that kind of crap happened here, too.

  They walked on separately, the narrow space between them somehow huge now. Jamie’s brow was furrowed, and it seemed like she had retreated into the remote place inside her own mind that Emma had temporarily lured her from.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said, trying to move closer on the sidewalk.

  Jamie maintained the buffer between them. “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because that’s probably not the first time something like that has happened to you.”

  “Yeah, well, probably won’t be the last time, either.”

  “Seriously, that sucks.”

  “Sticks and stones,” Jamie muttered, her voice as dark as the look that flickered and faded across her face.

  Emma wasn’t sure what to say, so she remained quiet as she walked along the suddenly perilous-seeming street, Jamie pacing coolly beside her.

  When the hotel was within sight, Emma stopped and said, “Give me your phone.”

  “What?” Jamie looked over at her, blinking as if she’d gazed too long into a bright light.

  “Give me your phone.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Add yourself to mine too, okay?”

  Nodding, Jamie took the phone and started to peck at the extended keyboard. Emma went to work on Jamie’s flip phone, typing in her full name, both her cell and home numbers, and her email address. As she saved the info, an alert popped up on Jamie’s screen: four missed calls from “Mom.” That couldn’t be good.

  “I had fun tonight,” she said, checking her phone surreptitiously as they traded back. Jamie Maxwell. That explained why she’d heard Jamie’s teammates calling her “Max.”

  “So did I.” Jamie started walking again, a ghost of a smile flitting across her lips. “You’re okay—for a Washingtonian.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Miss California.”

  “Hate to tell you, but I’m not exactly the beauty pageant type.”

  “If you were, you would totally win.” Emma winced a little. Flirting with the cute gay girl was not cool, especially when she’d ignored a call from her boyfriend while hanging out with the girl in question.

  Fortunately, Jamie took her comment as a joke. “Because fauxhawks and painter’s pants are the stuff of beauty queen legends.”

  They were still smiling at the image when they entered the hotel lobby, eyes on each other. Before the door had even closed, a middle-aged woman in a flowing skirt and Birkenstocks was rushing toward them. Without thinking, Emma stepped forward so that she was slightly in front of Jamie, but the woman only brushed past her and grabbed Jamie’s shoulders.

  “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Do you know how worried I was?”

  “Mom, we’re fine. It’s barely eleven.”

  Emma smiled and held out her hand. “Hi. You must be Jamie’s mom. I’m Emma.”

  The woman reluctantly released Jamie to shake Emma’s hand. “Yes, your father and I have been getting acquainted,” she said, her voice cool.

  For the first time, Emma noticed her father standing in the background. His shirt was untucked and his thick hair disheveled, and he did not look pleased.

  “I’m sorry I kidnapped Jamie,” Emma continued, her eyes back on the other girl’s mother. “We were going to come back to watch TV, but I really wanted to see the sunset and then we lost track of time. It was my fault, really.”

  “See?” her father put in, coming to stand beside her. “It was just a misunderstanding. I’m sure they were being careful. Weren’t you, girls?” His hand on her shoulder was a little heavy, and Emma glanced up at him. No, he did not look pleased at all.

  “Yes, sir,” Jamie mumbled.

  “Good,” he said, and started to steer Emma toward the elevator bank. “And now, I think it’s time to call it a night.”

  Jamie and her mother followed, and they all rode up to the second floor together in awkward silence. Beside her, Emma could feel the unhappiness rolling off Jamie in waves. She didn’t want the night to end like this. She wanted to tell Jamie’s mother to go easy on her, but judging from the way she’d reacted to their disappearing act, the woman was well-acquainted with the shadows in her daughter’s eyes. Emma, on the other hand, had only known Jamie for a matter of hours. And yet, she didn’t feel like a stranger. />
  Their rooms lay at opposite ends of the hotel. When they got off the elevator, Jamie waved a little and said, “See you, Emma.”

  “Bye, Jamie,” she replied. Then she and her father headed in one direction while Jamie and her mother went the other.

  Emma stalked along the corridor. This was ridiculous. They weren’t children. They may not be adults, either, but they should at least be able to speak to each other without their parents’ interference.

  “Hang on,” Emma said to her father, and jogged back toward the elevator. “Hey!”

  Jamie turned, smiling a little as she moved to meet her halfway. “Hey yourself.”

  “Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” Emma said softly. “Give me a call sometime, okay? I want to hear how your fall season goes.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Okay, then. I will.”

  “Good.” Emma hesitated, and then she reached out and pulled Jamie toward her for a hug. “Take it easy on yourself, Max. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Jamie murmured, her breath warm on Emma’s neck. Then she pulled away and gave her a cocky grin. “Good luck finding the right guy. Or girl.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Call me,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

  “I will. See you.”

  “Later.”

  Her father was frowning when she caught back up, his slightly lined brow furrowed.

  “What?” she asked as they continued down the hall.

  “We both know that little excursion was not your idea.”

  “Whatever,” she said, feigning boredom.

  “I’m serious, Emma.” He held their room door open for her. “I don’t want you hanging around with someone like that. You don’t need that kind of trouble.”

  Emma swallowed against the slow burn his words evoked. He didn’t know Jamie. She may be troubled, but she wasn’t trouble. Or was it that she didn’t look or dress the way he thought a girl should?

  “Really? Huh. I think I forgot how much you care about what I need.”

  He sighed, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded tired. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means. You’ve barely been around the past few years, let alone paid attention to what I do. You wouldn’t even have come along this weekend if it wasn’t for your stupid conference.”

  He shook his head and walked toward the door that connected their rooms. “I’m sorry you think that. The truth is, I came with you because I thought it would give us some quality time together. Apparently I was wrong, once again.”

  She watched the door swing shut behind him. It wasn’t fair. He was the parent, and yet he was always the one who walked away. She and her brother had been grasping at him for so long that she couldn’t remember what it had been like before he’d begun perfecting his vanishing act. Except that wasn’t entirely true. It was just too painful to remember the man he had once been before his work had taken him away from them. From her.

  Her mind cycling from the walk with Jamie to her father and back again, she got ready for bed and sat propped against the hotel bed pillows, trying to concentrate on the novel she’d brought along. Normally reading calmed her, but tonight the words left barely any impression. She was about to give up when her phone buzzed. Whoops. She hadn’t thought about Josh even once since the park.

  But it wasn’t Josh. Emma smiled as she read Jamie’s text: “Wanted to say thanks for taking the blame back there. I’m not grounded, so props to you for that minor miracle.”

  “No problem,” Emma typed back. “What are friends for, right?”

  “Friends, huh?”

  “I’m in if you are, California girl.”

  “Sounds good to me. Good night, Blake.”

  “Good night.”

  Emma set her phone on the bedside table and clicked off the lamp. Jamie had used her soccer nickname, short for Blakeley, her last name. Apparently she had been paying attention during the game yesterday. Was it strange that they had connected in such a short time? But no, the same thing had happened with a handful of the girls at the inaugural U-17 national team camp the previous fall. Within the first few days together, it had seemed like she knew those girls better than some of the kids she’d grown up with. Each subsequent time they’d been called up for training or a match, it was like they hadn’t been apart for long, even though months might have passed. Maybe it was that they were more alike than they were different. Back at home, there weren’t that many girls who lived for soccer the way she did. But on her club team and even more so on the youth national team, they all shared the desire to be the best at the sport they loved most.

  As she lay alone in her hotel room, she wondered if she and Jamie would ever play on the same team. It seemed like a longshot, but Emma had a saying: “Plan like you’ll live forever; live like you’ll die tomorrow.” As long as they both kept working hard and managed to stay injury-free—always a big if when you played competitively year round—it could happen.

  See, not a word about keeping a positive attitude, she congratulated herself, remembering the way Jamie had teased her about being the kind of person who would have a catchphrase. At least there was that.

  Chapter Two

  “JAMIE, EMMA’S ON the phone,” her mother called from the kitchen.

  Ignoring her older sister’s raised eyebrows, Jamie grabbed the receiver from the coffee table and stepped outside onto the back patio. It was September, her favorite month of the year, and the early evening air was warm and dry.

  “Hola,” she said as she headed for the hammock strung between a pair of beech trees.

  “Hola, chiquita. How was your game?” Emma asked.

  “Awesome. We won by two.”

  Jamie was a couple of weeks into fall travel league with her club team based in the East Bay burbs, which meant carpooling with various SF and Oakland teammates half an hour to practice twice a week. She also had a game each weekend somewhere within a two-hour radius of home.

  “Did you get on the board?” Emma asked.

  “One assist. What about you? You guys were at home, right?”

  “Yeah. We crushed our crosstown rivals.”

  Unlike California, where girls’ prep soccer was a winter sport, Washington schools offered girls’ soccer in the fall. Emma’s squad was currently ranked second in the state of Washington in their division, and Emma had been named a pre-season Parade All American for the second year in a row. So much for not being noticed.

  After a brief comparison of game notes, they moved on to Saturday night plans. Both of their school teams were planning to get together. In a matter of hours, alcohol and other recreational substances would be flowing freely at whoever’s house was parent-free that night.

  “Are you taking Josh?” Jamie asked.

  “Not exactly. I, um, might have broken up with him last night.”

  “Might have?”

  “No. I did.”

  “Finally. I can’t believe it took you that long.”

  “Happy now?”

  Jamie rolled her eyes even though Emma couldn’t see her. “The better question is, are you?”

  “I think so. I mean, it’ll be hard to see him every day at school, but it’s kind of a relief, to be honest. He was always giving me those puppy dog eyes. Now I don’t have to feel guilty for forgetting our three-month anniversary, or some other supposedly major moment that somehow slipped my radar.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t the guy in that relationship?”

  “Ha ha. What about you? Did you talk to that girl in your Spanish class? What’s her name?”

  “Faith. And no, not yet.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Honestly? I think I have plenty to worry about right now without adding dating drama. It’s hard enough juggling classes and my high school team and club stuff. Not to mention driver’s ed.”

  Emma was quiet for a moment, and Jamie wondered if s
he would press her for the real reason she was dodging her latest girl crush. But she didn’t, a fact that Jamie appreciated more than Emma knew. Someday, if they stayed friends, she would probably tell her about France. But not yet. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to talk about it to herself, despite the therapist she’d been seeing for the past five months.

  “Driving is fun,” Emma said finally. “If you can skateboard, then something with brakes and air bags will seem easy.”

  They talked about Emma’s little brother’s new skateboard, and then the conversation swung back to soccer, as it always did. With their fall seasons in full swing, there was endless fodder on that front. Plus the English Premier League (EPL) season had just started up again with Champions League soon to follow, and World Cup group play was set to begin this very weekend. US Soccer, the official governing body for the sport in America, recommended that youth players watch as much quality game film as possible, and Emma and Jamie were only too happy to comply. Over the summer they had discovered they could spend hours on the phone watching the matches they’d taped off satellite television. This involved staking out the TV at a prearranged time, calling each other up, and hitting play at the exact same moment. Jamie’s sister thought they were crazy, but Emma said their behavior was normal given their shared aspiration to one day play at the highest level.

  It had been two months since Surf Cup, and barely a day went by without a text, email, or phone call. Jamie’s Berkeley friends kept teasing her about her girlfriend up in Seattle, but it wasn’t like that. She and Emma had things in common that none of her other friends cared about. Like the Food Network—sometimes they made plans to watch cooking shows together instead of game tape. But that was their secret. Not even their parents knew about their shared obsession with Giada De Laurentiis, the star of Everyday Italian.

  “Do you still want to watch the games tomorrow?” Emma asked.

  “Of course,” Jamie replied, swinging the hammock slightly. The following day boasted not only an early season match-up between Arsenal and Manchester United but the first match for the US women at the World Cup. The first-round games for the American side were all on the East Coast while the semis would be in Portland and the finals in Los Angeles. Jamie wasn’t going to be able to attend any games, thanks to school and soccer, but Emma was going to Portland for the semis.