Training Ground

by Kate Christie

  Emma took a bite of burger, chewing slowly. An image of Tori popped into her head, followed by Justin Tate, the soccer player who had indeed asked her out. She kept saying no, but he kept asking. And she had to admit, he was cute in a preppy jock sort of way. Sian and Dani couldn’t believe she hadn’t given in yet. Yet—as if going out with him was inevitable. And in the world she came from, it almost seemed that way. In her world, female servers hit on male patrons, not on fellow teenaged girls.

  “That guy Justin asked me out again,” she admitted, and took a sip of soda.

  “The soccer player? I thought you said no.”

  “I did.”

  “At least he’s persistent.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a plus, really.”

  Jamie laughed and Emma joined her, and all at once it didn’t matter that she couldn’t decide who she most wanted to kiss. She and Jamie were here together in this restaurant on a lazy Sunday, sharing a delicious meal with the ocean laid out before them. The Future with all its mysteries and unanswerable questions could wait. For now, she was with one of her best friends and she was happy.

  But her runner’s high faded, as it always did. And then, as they walked along the beach a little while later, Jamie turned to her and said the words Emma had been waiting days, weeks, months for: “Do you mind if we sit? There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

  Finally! But then a frisson of fear touched her. What if she wasn’t up to the conversation? What if she said the wrong thing again?

  “Of course I don’t mind,” she bluffed.

  They sat down together on a massive driftwood log half buried in the sand, and Jamie looked down, running her fingers over the smooth, bleached wood. The waves were a ways out, and Emma gazed at the ocean, wondering why this felt so familiar. Then she remembered—the night they met they had sat together just like this on a bench at the edge of the Pacific, getting to know each other bit by bit. They had come so far in half a year. As long-distance friends, they had bonded over soccer and high school life and possibilities they both hoped lay in their near future—youth national team call-ups and college soccer at big-time programs and then? And then the big show, whatever that might mean now that WUSA, America’s first professional soccer league for women, had folded only days before the start of the World Cup.

  Jamie glanced over at her. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was going to tell you at all, but you’ve become one of my closest friends. Even though you live like a thousand miles away.”

  “Eight hundred. But who’s counting?” Emma scooted closer on the log. “You know, you can tell me anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Technically, that’s not true.”

  “I meant it figuratively.” She hesitated as Jamie dangled her hands between her legs and stared down at the sand. Obviously this was not going to be an easy conversation. “Would it help if I told you I think I already know?”

  Her brow creased. “What? How? Did my sister tell you?”

  “No. No one told me anything. It was more something you said.”

  “Something…?” She pursed her lips. “When?”

  “Right before my birthday. You were telling me about that girl on your team who was pregnant, and I said—”

  “That I hadn’t ever had to worry about something like that. I remember.” She stood up, running a hand over her already mussed hair.

  Emma stood too and hesitantly reached for her.

  But Jamie stepped back, squinting at her. “Are you serious, Emma? You let me go all this time worrying about how to tell you? Worrying about whether or not you’d still want to be my friend once you found out I snuck out to a bar with some teammates our last night in France and drank too much and this guy who was buying for us waited until my friends weren’t paying attention, and then he pulled me into this back room and he—he… I didn’t even do anything to stop him. I was so scared I froze.” She stopped, blinking against the tears Emma could see hovering on her lashes. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do a thing.” As her voice turned to a whisper, all the anger went out of her and she seemed to fold in on herself.

  Emma didn’t let her fall, though. She caught her and pulled her close, held on tight as Jamie cried, her tears dripping onto Emma’s neck.

  “It’s okay, Jamie,” she murmured. “I’ve got you. I won’t let go, I promise.”

  Her heart hurt at the sound of Jamie’s sobs, low and deep in her chest, body racked with every breath, and it was all she could do not to cry herself. She had been expecting this, of course, but she had hoped she was wrong. God, how she had hoped this wasn’t the secret Jamie carried. But even knowing something terrible had likely happened hadn’t prepared her for the reality of Jamie’s confession. This tough, vulnerable girl who loved soccer the same way she did and had parents and a sister and friends who loved her, Jamie, one of her closest friends, had been raped by a strange man in the back of a bar in a foreign country. The knowledge made Emma’s heart race uncomfortably, and for a moment she wondered if she might throw up. As she swallowed down the nausea, she remembered again the phone call that had started all of this—the joke she’d made, not realizing how deeply it would sting. Tears stung her eyes as she understood how cruel, however unintentionally, she had been.

  But crying wouldn’t help Jamie. This wasn’t the time to apologize for her own cluelessness or to wallow in horror, however justified. She remembered what the pamphlet her mother had given her said: Support your friend. Don’t make it about your feelings. Let her know you believe her and that you care about her.

  “I’m sorry,” Jamie choked out, holding the back of Emma’s sweatshirt in her fist. “I’m so sorry.”

  Emma blinked back her own tears and rubbed soothing circles into Jamie’s back. “You don’t have to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to you.”

  She pulled away, swiping at her wet face. “But I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I should have run or fought back or, I don’t know, done something. All I did was stare at the ceiling telling myself it wasn’t happening. That it couldn’t really be happening, not to me.”

  Emma shook her head. “You did the best you could to get through an awful experience. You survived, and I’m so thankful you did. So is everyone else who loves you.”

  “How can you say that? You know as well as I do that it was stupid to get myself into that situation.”

  Her hands gentle, Emma squeezed Jamie’s shoulders. “Nothing you did could possibly justify what he did to you. Do you understand? It’s not your fault that asshole took advantage of you. Would you think it was my fault if the same thing had happened to me?”

  Jamie’s eyes flickered. “Well, no.”

  “Then allow yourself that same latitude, okay?”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “It can if you let it.” Although that was easy enough for her to say. She wasn’t the one who’d had her virginity taken by force. Hands still on Jamie’s shoulders, she tugged her into another warm hug. If only she could squeeze all the hurt out of her and leave only good feelings behind. If only there was something more she could do to help.

  “Why are you being so great?” Jamie asked, her voice muffled against Emma’s hoodie.

  “Because I’m your friend and I care about you.” The declaration didn’t feel like nearly enough, but she heard Jamie sigh and felt her rigid muscles soften.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. This could never change how I feel about you. I sort of already knew, remember, and I’m still here, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah.” Jamie pulled back to stare at her. “You are.”

  “What happened that night doesn’t define you, at least not in my eyes. You are so much more than that one night. You are smart and funny and a good person, and I’m so glad I met you.”

  “Funny, or funny-looking?” Jamie joked weakly, trying to smile.


  “Definitely not funny-looking, if Nadine is any judge.”

  “Nadine?”

  “Our server,” Emma said, secretly pleased that Jamie hadn’t taken much notice of the less-than-subtle waitress. She hesitated, trying to gauge where Jamie was at. “Do you want to sit down? Or maybe walk a little?”

  “Let’s walk. I think I could use some motion right about now.”

  Emma linked their arms, and the closeness felt just as comfortable as it had the night they met as they strolled down the beach together, strides matching and hips occasionally bumping.

  “So obviously your family knows,” Emma said after a while.

  “Yeah. My therapist says it’s important not to let what happened turn into a secret within the family.”

  “You’re talking to someone, then?”

  “My parents said I had to or they wouldn’t let me play soccer.”

  “Good. That’s really good. Have you told anyone else what happened?”

  She bit her lip and glanced over at Emma before quickly looking away. “No. Outside of my family, you’re the first.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  For some reason, this admission brought Emma’s tears back. Blinking them away again, she squeezed Jamie’s arm. “Thank you for trusting me. It means so much to me. You mean so much to me.”

  She smiled back shyly. “Thank you for being so awesome. You mean a lot to me, too, you know.”

  “You’re pretty tough, aren’t you?”

  “I literally cried all over you not two minutes ago.”

  “Crying has nothing to do with strength or weakness. You went through this potentially life-altering thing, and instead of destroying you, it made you stronger.”

  “That is the cliché, isn’t it? What doesn’t kill you?” She shrugged and kicked at the sand. “Honestly, I’m not sure when I’ll be done going through it. Sometimes it feels like I’ll always be going through it.”

  “I can see that,” Emma said, even though she couldn’t, really. Nothing in her life had happened yet that couldn’t be undone. The closest she had come was when her parents nearly split up, but the separation had only lasted a couple of months. Her grandmother’s dementia was sad, but older people got sick and died. It was a normal part of the life cycle, to be expected even. Rape, while far too common according to the materials her mother had shared, was not a normal part of life. Not in the least.

  She tugged Jamie closer against her side. “You don’t have to go through it alone. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me, too. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Yet.

  The word hung between them, unspoken. Emma was sure Jamie felt it too. How could she not? They had rung in the new year together knowing that 2004 would put even more distance between them. Soon she would leave the West Coast, and then who knew what would happen? They might stay in touch, but she had seen older friends come back from college changed, their minds crowded with new teams, new people, new ideas. This day, this visit might be the only time they would ever be in the same place together. She hoped not, but there was no way to predict if the separate arcs of their lives would intersect again.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Jamie said quietly, leaning into her.

  “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  If this was all they had, then at least they could be there for each other now. Maybe that was why they had been brought together—so that she could help Jamie through the first year after France, the hardest year. And in turn, Jamie had helped Emma see that the label didn’t define the person. Even if they grew apart and went in different directions from here, their friendship had made a difference in each of their lives. Whether Jamie knew it or not.

  Briefly she thought about sharing her own secret. But it was so small in comparison, and anyway, today wasn’t about her. Once more she bit back the words and walked on with Jamie, the winter breeze buffeting them as they kicked through the sand side by side.

  Chapter Five

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Jamie ran down the stairs and almost collided with her father.

  “Whoah, there, birthday girl. Where’s the fire?”

  “Blair’s on his way to pick me up.”

  “And where are you two going, exactly?” her mother asked, emerging from the kitchen in an apron.

  “The skate park. If that’s okay?” she made herself add, even though it was her birthday and she was sixteen, for god’s sake, too old to be asking her parents if she could go out for a couple of hours in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.

  “It’s fine,” her dad said. “Have a good time. Just be home in time for dinner, okay?”

  “You got it,” she said, and offered him a high five. When he swung, she pulled her hand away and ran it over her hair. “Too slow, old man.”

  “I don’t know why I still fall for that,” he complained.

  That made two of them.

  “Be careful,” her mom added. “And wear your helmet.”

  Jamie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I will. See ya.”

  On the porch, she pulled on her helmet, tucked her board under her arm, and ran down to the street. Then she hopped on and started down the road. At least her parents no longer insisted she wear pads. Though she caught bigger air when she was decked out in safety gear, going without looked cooler.

  “Dude,” Blair crowed as he pulled alongside in his Jeep Wrangler. “Happy birthday!”

  “Boy-ee!” She laughed and grabbed onto the rollover bar. “Tow me?”

  “Hang on!”

  He hit the gas and took the next corner fast enough that she gasped and then laughed as she struggled to follow the Jeep’s line without getting crushed.

  “How’s that?” he asked, grinning at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Awesome!”

  The skate park was located down near the waterfront, only a short distance from the freeway. Blair pulled over a little ways from her house and she climbed in, tossing her board and helmet in back. There were a ton more cops downhill than in Elmwood, and Blair, a year ahead of her at Berkeley High, had already had to go back to driving school once.

  As usual, they parked on Fifth Street near the skate park. Jamie was already reaching for her helmet when Blair hopped out and started to put up the Jeep’s soft shell top. She glanced back at him in surprise. This neighborhood wasn’t the best, admittedly, but they would be less than a hundred feet away.

  “Hold on,” he said, smirking at her. “I have to give you your birthday present, don’t I?”

  She smiled slowly and let go of her helmet. “Sweet.”

  Once the top was locked into place, they fastened all the flaps, put up the windows, and checked the surrounding area one last time. There were a couple of kids on the park’s soccer field and a handful of skaters, but other than that the block was pretty dead. The industrial warehouses behind them were closed for the weekend, and the overcast sky was keeping the masses away. Besides, there was an NFL wild card playoff game on. While Jamie didn’t mind the NFL, she definitely wouldn’t give up an afternoon at the park for a game that didn’t involve the Forty-Niners.

  Coast unofficially clear, Blair pulled a joint out of his cargo pants while Jamie retrieved a plastic lighter from the glove compartment.

  “Ladies first,” he said.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Wait, do you have a girl up in here?”

  “Hilarious. Light it up, James.”

  She did, inhaling deeply and holding the sweet smoke in as long as she could. Then she blew it out and handed over the joint. “Mmmm.” She exhaled tension she hadn’t even known she was holding in. “That shit is smooth.”

  “Only the best for you, son.” He pulled off his knit beanie and tucked his long hair behind one ear before taking a hit. Then he offered her the joint again.

  “One more and I’m out.” As he stared at her, still holding his breath, she shrugged. “You know I’m in season.”

>   He exhaled finally. “You’re always in season.”

  They’d been friends since they played on their first AYSO team together, but lately Blair had seemed increasingly impatient with the time she reserved for soccer. He’d quit in middle school when he started hanging around the skate park every waking minute. Soon after, he’d moved on to a different social group at school, stoners and skate punks who Jamie liked but didn’t have that much in common with. Still, they were fun to hang with and good for the medicinal marijuana hook-up. She had managed to wean herself off of the formerly required nighttime toke, but a hit here and there didn’t go amiss, especially when the anxiety she’d struggled with ever since France set up shop in her thoughts again.

  Blair handed her a small, clumsily wrapped package, the shape of which revealed its contents even before she tore off the tissue paper.

  “Thanks, man,” she said, holding up her hand for a high five.

  He complied. “De nada. Want to play it?”

  “Totally.”

  They listened to the CD in comfortable silence while he smoked the joint down. Every year he burned a new mix for her birthday. Unfortunately he was still into grunge music even though the 1990s were long gone, as she liked to tease him. But she had to admit, the songs he’d put on this year’s mix were good. Maybe she would make Emma a copy. Emma’s taste tended toward pop music and hip hop, which Jamie thought was funny given she lived in a suburb of one of the least racially diverse cities in the country. But so far she’d liked all of the CDs Emma had sent, including the one she’d made for her birthday.

  That morning, Jamie hadn’t even been awake yet when her mother knocked on her door and came in with the phone, yawning. She held it out without a word before disappearing back down the hall.

  “Happy birthday!” Emma had shouted as soon as Jamie grunted into the receiver.

  She’d slid back down under her covers, adjusting her boxers and tank top more comfortably. “The hell, Blake? It’s six o’clock in the morning.”

  “More like six thirty. Was I the first person to wish you a happy birthday? Was I?”