Jeff held up his can to clink it with mine. It was a cheesy gesture, but I smiled and clinked anyway. “Cheers to you, then,” he said. “In a way, haven’t you already won?”
“What do you mean?”
“There aren’t many girls’ soccer teams, right? So just playing is a big deal?”
I paused. So there were guys like Michael and my dad, who laughed off our team, and guys like Joe and Bobby, who not only respected our team but believed we could win; maybe guys like Jeff were somewhere in the middle, people who thought we should be satisfied just to play.
And while I knew I’d really like to win—in the half-formed way someone who didn’t know what winning felt like wanted to win—he had a point. We didn’t have to be perfect out there.
“Yeah, kind of,” I said, taking a sip of the cool beer. Jeff had one of those friendly faces, like a guy who got along with all the different crowds at school. “How long have you known Tina?”
“Since about third grade.”
“What about Todd?”
“I’ve known him even longer. When we were in elementary school, I knew he liked Tina before he did,” he said.
“Yeah, they’re really committed. I honestly don’t get how they do the long-distance thing.”
“What do you mean?” Jeff said.
I shrugged. “I guess, like, it makes me wonder, are you really in love with each other or just your dramatic faraway love affair?” I cringed at how horrible it sounded as soon as I said it, and I wasn’t sure if I meant it, or if I was annoyed that Tina had sort of scolded me for my lack of curiosity about Todd. Or if I was jealous that she was off making out with someone she really liked while I pointlessly pined for Bobby and made things awkward with Joe, the one guy whose company I enjoyed.
“I think it’s cool they take a chance on each other,” Jeff said, picking at the label on his beer bottle. I could tell he thought what I said was mean, too.
“Yeah, I guess it just seems like so much could go wrong,” I said, hoping I sounded more gentle. “It’s a lot to deal with.” I didn’t mention outright that Tina hid the relationship from her mom, in case Todd didn’t know that. I realized if I were a better friend I would know if Todd knew that.
“I guess, if you think you found the right person, maybe it’s worth it? Risking the parts that could go wrong,” Jeff said, making me feel like an even bigger jerk than I already did.
“Susan, it’s your turn to get ice,” Arlene said, thrusting the empty bucket at me. She gave Jeff a sultry smile and squeezed between us. “I’ll keep him company.”
“You know what?” I said to Jeff conspiratorially. “I’ve got to get the ice and make sure no one is getting out of control.”
He winked as I left, but he didn’t seem to mind Arlene replacing me.
I took the bucket and opened the door a crack, and saw Bobby, peering out his blinds toward our rooms. Then his lights flicked off and his door started to open. I gulped, ducking back inside.
“Pipe down,” I said as calmly as I could. I swatted down our light switch. “Bobby is leaving his room. I think he saw something.”
“Shit,” Marie hissed.
“Just be quiet, everyone,” Dawn said, way too loudly.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said. I made sure my pajamas were on straight and took a deep breath, setting the ice bucket down on the carpet before softly opening the door. I stepped onto the walkway and dashed as fast as I could toward the stairwell that Bobby would need to use to come upstairs.
My timing was perfect. I bumped directly into him.
“Susan,” he said, catching me by the arms. He held me like that for a second before sort of placing me on the stair in a less-precarious position. “What are you doing up?”
I gave him the most defeated look I could, and, hoping my breath smelled like strawberry Bubble Yum and not Natural Light and schnapps, said, “I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to disturb the other girls, so I walked outside and . . . I forgot my key in the room. I’m locked out. I don’t want to knock since they’re sleeping, so I thought I should go to the office for a key.”
As lies went, it was perfect. Where were these bullshitting abilities when I’d been struggling to write my essay on Faulkner?
“I’ll help you,” Bobby said, with a glance up the stairs toward the party room. Mercifully, the lights were off and I didn’t hear a sound. The moon was full and our shadows blended together in front of us. Bobby gave a light laugh. “I’m sorry you can’t sleep, but I’m relieved that’s all it is. I thought I heard a party, but I guess I’m paranoid.”
So he had been coming to check on us. Guilt bubbled in me and I fumbled for a way to change the subject, but he did it for me.
“Is the no-sleep thing because of the game?” he asked.
I puffed out a breath—I could see it in the chilly air—and said, “Yeah, just a little nervous.” My pajamas were thin and I hugged my own shoulders as we walked.
“Don’t be,” he said. “It’s just a game, as they say.” Then he stopped walking in perfect view of our rooms. I held my breath, willing everyone to stay put until I gave the all-clear.
Bobby shook his head. “Who am I kidding, it’s not just a game. Winning would be so great.” He sighed. “That sounded wrong. I mean, if the team gets a win tomorrow, you’ll know what it feels like. I can’t explain why it’s a big deal, but it’s about more than a mark in the W column. You’ll get to carry it around with you, always. Especially as the first girls’ soccer team at our school.”
I heard a noise overhead, and Bobby flinched. How easy it would be to distract him by kissing him. I was maybe almost tipsy enough to do it—I felt a little light from the half shot and half beer I’d had over the course of the party—but I wasn’t crazy. He had a faraway look in his eye, and it made me want to understand what he was thinking.
“Why did you want to coach soccer, anyway?”
Bobby grinned. “When I got the teaching job, they offered me a spot as an assistant football coach. But soccer is my passion, for one, and two, this was a chance at starting something brand-new. A women’s team. And, okay, I’m going to sound extremely nerdy now, but did you know that there’s evidence that people played soccer in the second or third century? And not just men. Women, too. Not the game we know today, but a version of it.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“Really. And we know through history that women have done things that are thought to be only for men, but women had soccer way back then. They had it again in England much later, and then in 1921 the Football Association—they call it football in England—banned women from the game.”
“That sucks,” I said. “But . . . what does that have to do with us?”
“Everything,” Bobby said. He was excited now, like a scientist in a movie who’d just made a huge discovery. It was cute. “Playing this game is for you. All of you. And I don’t want to sound like I’m some hero, giving soccer back to you, but I like to think I’m an accomplice to helping you take it back.”
“Well, thank you,” I said. I had no idea that behind all his motivational speeches was this person so thoughtful about every aspect of the game. Dorky history and all.
“No, thank you,” he said. “I think you have a great shot at winning tomorrow, and that’s thrilling, but I’m even more excited because you all playing might mean other girls will want to play, too.”
“So your speeches would be different if you’d taken the football team coaching spot?” I asked him, almost teasing, as we resumed walking in the direction of the motel office.
With an almost devilish look, he said, “I wouldn’t bother as much. Especially with the guys on our team. But mostly because boys take opportunities for granted.”
I thought of the party. He definitely could not find out about it. “We’re going to work hard to get a win. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
“I want you to get the win for you,” he said softly. “Y
ou need to know how good it feels.” That comment sent a wave of feeling to my pelvis. But the way he said it also allowed me to imagine winning in a much more complete way than I’d been able to until now. A win would feel like someone had replaced my normal blood and guts with a golden inner grace, or maybe a calming pleasure, like after an orgasm. Or both. I let out a breath as he held the door to the office for me and told the manager my situation. The manager looked from Bobby to me and back to Bobby. He thought we were a couple, I realized, and blushed.
The manager slid a new key over. “Twenty bucks if we need to replace a key,” he said. “So I hope you find it.”
“I know where it is, just locked myself out by accident,” I said, trying to cement my story.
I walked back outside, and even though I didn’t hear any noise coming from the room, I knew that every second I tried to stretch out my time with Bobby was a second more when he could find out what we were really up to.
“I think I can sleep now,” I told Bobby.
“Thanks for the chat, Susan,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get upstairs. Get some sleep.”
He watched from the parking lot, so I made a show of going into my room, where Tina and Todd were waiting for me. They were fully clothed but the bed looked mussed. “Are we in trouble?” Tina asked nervously.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But we should break up the party.”
I split the blinds with my fingers and saw that Bobby’s light was off. Tina, Todd, and I entered the party room through the adjoining door. Everyone stared at me, waiting for what I’d say.
“He didn’t suspect a thing,” I said, not sure if it was true but hoping I was right.
“You’re the fucking best, Susan,” Marie said, raising a drink. “To Susan!”
“And Tina! And her hot boyfriend!” Wendy added, definitely wasted.
As a cheer—a soft one—went up, Tina whispered to me, “Maybe everyone can have one more? This is kind of nice.” I looked around at my teammates, who were waiting for my answer. The talk with Bobby had left me too excited to go right to bed. And it wasn’t that late yet. Keeping the party going a bit longer wouldn’t hurt. Bobby had coached us too well.
If winning tomorrow would feel this good, I couldn’t wait.
Nineteen
Bobby knocked on all our doors at six in the morning, just like he promised.
The problem was, we were still in Marie’s room. And everyone was scattered about in various states of hungover or still drunk.
“Noo,” Wendy moaned from the floor as I hoisted myself up from the foot of a bed where Arlene and Dana had passed out. Tina was sleeping next to me. I nudged her and she groaned as she rolled onto her stomach. “Rise and shine.”
She looked at me, one eye still closed, holding her head. “Dammit. I feel like shit and I didn’t even drink that much.”
There was a pause and another knock. “Are we okay in there?” Bobby called. “Are you all awake? We need to get going soon.”
“Susan, can you please deal with him?” Dawn said, ambling toward the bathroom.
With my own head throbbing more than I had expected, I didn’t think I could, but I’d somehow been appointed responsible for covering up our quickly multiplying infractions. “I’ll try.”
I went to the door with the most composure I could manage, and I felt like I had myself together. When I pulled open the door and the glare of an October sunrise hit my eyes, though, I made a not-on-purpose creaking noise, like someone had stabbed me in the stomach with a dull knife. “We’re almost ready,” I mumbled, trying to keep my foul breath in my mouth. Then I burped in Bobby’s face.
He stared at my eyes and I saw the awareness that I was wrecked cross his face. His eyes narrowed as he looked past me, into the room. We’d cleaned up as much as we could when we’d wound things down just before one a.m., but it must not have been good enough. Bobby cleared his throat and used his head to gesture to a spot on the floor. An empty bottle of peach schnapps was lying just outside the bathroom and in view of the door.
“The bus leaves in five minutes,” he said in a tight voice. His narrowed eyes were focused on me, while my own bleary eyes could barely focus on him. “Clean up and get your uniforms on.”
He hadn’t yelled, but somehow it was worse. He pulled the door shut with a click. I was pretty sure that if we weren’t on the bus to the game, he’d leave us in Wisconsin.
The ride was silent, no speeches or lectures. We’d rallied to get ready, but looking at my teammates slouched about the bus, I thought it was possible we’d used all our energy for the day in getting dressed.
It was my fault. For all my patrolling and discarding of drinks at the beginning of the night, I’d still missed that a few people—Wendy, Dana, Arlene—were drinking faster than I knew. Then, when I’d gotten back from talking with Bobby, I felt so confident that we’d win the next day, I figured I’d be okay to have a couple of drinks with the team. But the drunker we’d gotten, the surer we became that nothing we did could keep us from a victory, so we kept on drinking. . . . The second bottle of schnapps had helped it make sense at the time.
The excitement I’d had the night before was replaced by dread when we pulled up to the field. It was the real thing. A football field with goals positioned at either end, and with the penalty boxes drawn in white chalk around the goals. Bobby usually just marked those off with orange cones on our practice field. The grass was level, unlike at our park. Its green was sharp and stark against the cold gray of the sky, and the silver bleachers along either side were creepy, like looming metal skeletons. The hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach should have been excitement. Maybe dread was excitement’s scary twin.
Bobby put the bus in park and stood next to the door, watching as we each stumbled or limped off the bus. “I am beyond disappointed. Not only because of what you did, but because you thought I would be fooled.” For all the times I’d hoped he was looking pointedly at me, this time I was sure he was, and I hated it. “But maybe you have a chance, despite your efforts to blow it. This team has only ten players, and they haven’t been practicing together as long as we have. I still don’t know if you’re in shape to win, but maybe you can prove me wrong.”
He stepped off the bus and led the way to our bench, where he set down his clipboard. We knew we were all in deep shit with him, but Bobby wasn’t making it obvious to the other team or the smattering of people in the stands. He ran us through some stretches and jumping jacks, and we were doing our best not to look as sloppy as we felt.
“They don’t look that great,” Arlene said, staring across at the other team as she clutched her side. She was right: their practice kicks were weak.
“Do you feel any better?” I asked Tina.
“I’m mostly tired,” she said. “But I’m nervous.” She waved to Todd, who was wearing a windbreaker and sitting high up in the stands by himself. Jeff and Wayne must have failed to make the early wake-up call to see the game.
“Maybe we’ll be fine,” I said. My brain seemed to be pulsing behind my eyes. “I’m going to be optimistic.”
Bobby cleared his throat behind us and said, “Okay, get out there.” I would have expected an inspiring speech under normal circumstances, but we were lucky he was speaking to us at all.
“Sure, Coach,” I said, my voice cracking.
We soon found that a Bobby speech wouldn’t have done any good. Shortly after we took the field, it was clear how tired and hungover we were. Being in the game, I couldn’t see exactly how shitty we performed, but I’m sure from the vantage points of Bobby and anyone else watching, our cumulative suckage was easy to ascertain. Dawn, who was normally pretty quick, had trouble keeping up with the ball, and a Wisconsin defender stole it from her easily. With the ball in their possession, they made a pass that Marie would normally have pounced on but that instead rolled past her and put their team in scoring position against Wendy. It was only because their forward’s kick was lousy that Wendy was
able to save the shot.
My head was pounding, but I felt powered by the urge to fix the mistake we’d made. “Let’s do whatever we can together to get a goal,” I told Tina. “I can die later.”
“We can try,” Tina said. She didn’t sound hopeful.
Wendy booted the ball downfield, and Sarah took control and managed a weak pass that I got hold of only because no one was defending me. I brought the ball toward the Wisconsin goal and a short girl charged toward me. Dana was loping, wide open, across the field. “Dana,” I shouted, and kicked a pass her way.
Dana looked up, disoriented, as my pass rolled right over her foot and directly to another Wisconsin defender, who passed it to a midfielder.
“Fuck, Dana, wake up,” I said.
The midfielder handily got the ball to her forward, who squared up and kicked it neatly into our goal. Wendy barely tilted toward the ball.
The Wisconsin team scored two more goals, more because we were crappy than because they were good. Marie tripped over one of the Wisconsin midfielders’ feet and pounded the ground in frustration.
Somehow, Lisa and Franchesa both scored, but neither goal was pretty. The Wisconsin goalie was clearly still getting used to her gear and had simply failed to see the ball as we made terrible passes that meandered to the goal. But those two goals were both on her right side, and I thought of what Joe had said about finding a goalie’s weakness. I still had hope we could pull out a win, even if it was fading fast.
At the half, Bobby told us to take advantage of our opponents’ newness. “You’ve played harder scrimmages against each other,” he said. “I don’t have anything else to say.” His normally energetic tone was flattened. Disappointment radiated from him.
Back on the field, nothing improved, but at least the Wisconsin girls seemed to be getting tired. Not hungover tired like us, but tired. No one scored for some time. If anything, we were competing to see who could keep the ball for the longest without mistakenly kicking it to the other team.
Gimme Everything You Got Page 17
