by Nicole Nwosu
“Don’t call me an idiot, idiot.”
“I want to know what’s going on.”
As I recounted all that had happened between us last week, Andrew didn’t interrupt. He kept all of his thoughts to himself until I was done.
“You cheated on Cedric.” There was disappointment in his voice, and the guilt in me was unnerving.
“I did.”
“You guys dated? Like, you went out? And made out, and then you—”
“No, we didn’t do that.”
“Sam is . . . kinda known for that, remember?”
There was another knock on the door, and I opened it to Jon Ming and Austin. “How serious is the conversation we walked in on?” Jon Ming asked as they walked in, his eyes flicking between me and Andrew.
“I’m guessing an eleven,” Austin said.
“On what scale?” Jon Ming sat on the carpeted floor. “Is it about Mace and Sam dating for, like, those few days?” Andrew’s lips parted in surprise, but Jon Ming kept talking. “It was weird, man, you should’ve seen them.”
My guilt grew as I turned to Andrew. “Can I talk to you for a quick second in the bathroom? Please.”
He limped ahead of me and I shut the door behind us, my fist against my lips.
“You tell me everything.” Andrew ran a hand through his blond hair. “Maybe I’m overreacting.”
“You’re not. If you were in my position I would want you to tell me what’s going on. It’s always been like that.”
“Clearly, things are changing,” he said dryly.
“I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes for a second. “I should have told you and I shouldn’t have said all that shit I said to Jasmine and I shouldn’t have done what I did with Sam and I should’ve broken up with Cedric the moment I realized I didn’t have feelings for him anymore. I’m sorry.” I inhaled roughly, my hands over my face, and Andrew put his arms around me in a comforting hug—one that I didn’t deserve but that he knew I needed. My eyes squeezed shut as I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I feel like a horrible person.”
“You’re not a horrible person,” he said. “I think you just made a few decisions that could have been made differently. You need to resolve them.”
Andrew let me go and I wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. By the time I was caught up in all of it, it was too late for you to talk me out of it.”
“It’s okay.”
When we walked back into the room, Austin asked, “You’re breaking up with Cedric, right? I mean, you and Sam confessed you like each other.”
“Like a couple of middle schoolers,” Jon Ming muttered and I glared at him.
“All that matters now is what you do next,” Austin said.
“Macy, do you still have feelings for Sam?” Andrew asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you have feelings for Cedric?” Jon Ming questioned.
“No,” I answered. “I thought that if I was still with him, what I felt for Sam would just go away, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore. Why do we have to have hormones? Why couldn’t humans be given superspeed or the ability to fly instead?”
“God didn’t want us to be superheroes because not many people can pull off tights,” Austin answered dryly. “Now break up with him.”
“I don’t want to do it over text. I have to explain it to him in person. When we get back.”
“Wanna know the worst way to get dumped?” Jon Ming said. “Email. Happened to my cousin. I mean, through email? Who even uses that anymore?”
“This breakup will be good,” Andrew said. “Even if you and Sam don’t end up together, you’ll have a chance to sort out your feelings.”
“It will be good,” I agreed. “But Sam and I won’t happen.”
“Why are you sure of that?” Austin wondered.
“Because he said it. He said that he would mess up. That he would probably end up hurting me. Sure, he’s possibly changed and the break was . . . it doesn’t matter. He made it pretty clear when we spoke about why we did what we did during the break. We did it because it was better for us to stay friends.”
“You can’t stay friends after something like that,” Jon Ming pointed out. “Look at Andrew and Jasmine.”
“Shut up, JM,” Andrew told Jon Ming before turning to me. “You should talk to him about it,”
“I should focus on Cedric,” I said. “On breaking up with him. At least once I do it, I won’t be—”
“Cheating on Cedric?” Jon Ming said. Hearing it made my stomach twist because that was exactly what I had done.
Coach yelled from the sidelines. The scout stood next to him. I dribbled the ball with my feet. My heart was pounding. I’d been nervous throughout the whole game—not even the Pop-Tart I’d had an hour before had calmed me down.
I controlled my breathing as I ran with the ball, jumping up as a member of the other team tried to slide-tackle me. I’d hit the dirt more times than one could count in my eighteen years of life. I’d grown up with Andrew and Justin—when I shoved them to the ground, I naturally got pushed down too. Trying to find Sam, I dodged an opposing midfielder then passed the ball to Austin at a short distance. He got the ball, dribbling it up as I ran in for the clearing.
The score was tied with fifteen minutes left. Sam dribbled up and over a player’s head, controlling it smoothly. He noticed me going for the run and shot it up.
Laying the ball down with my feet, I passed the defender. My heart was beating too fast, knowing that the scout was watching my every move. As I ran up, my foot struck the ball and shot it into the air. The ball hit the corner of the crossbar and went out. I inhaled sharply, anger rising within me as I trudged to my side. The ref retrieved the ball as Sam walked over. “Loosen up. You’re doing well.”
“I should’ve gotten that in.”
“It’s okay.” He grabbed my hands, massaging the backs with his thumbs. “Calm down. Breathe.”
I took a deep breath not just because of the scout but also because of the heat and nice feelings that came with holding his hands. “Thanks.”
“Let’s get ’em.”
“I want ice cream,” Jacob said, rolling onto his stomach. He, Brandon, Andrew, Jon Ming, and Austin were lounging on my bed later that afternoon, searching through my laptop for something to watch.
“We don’t care,” Austin mumbled, and Jacob stuck his foot out to hit Austin’s face.
“There’s an ice-cream store across the street,” Brandon said, pulling a pillow over his head.
“I’ll go get it,” I offered, getting up from the crowded bed. “I need a break from the level of testosterone in this room.” Grabbing my key card and wallet, I headed downstairs to the lobby.
We’d won, but my nerves had gotten the better of me, and while I’d assisted in every goal our team made, I’d failed to bring myself to take a shot on the net for fear the scout would see me miss again. I should have been happy that we won, but I was upset that I hadn’t been brave enough to stand out.
Players from different teams were talking to one another in the common room as I passed by. Suddenly, my name was called, and it was Michael, flanked by two of his goons. “What do you want?” I muttered.
“You looked like you were having a meltdown at your game today.”
Michael just had to pay attention to me. “Don’t you have something better to do than taunt me?”
“I would have something better to do but as you can see, you’re the only girl I like to bother.”
“Leave me alone.” My attempt to push past him was failed when he grabbed my arm. I was ready to push him again but he was suddenly on the ground.
Michael stood up, brushing off his friends’ attempts to help.
“Don’t bother her,” Sam hissed.
“She came onto me, asshole,” Michael said, and I gasped in disbe
lief.
“Where the heck did you get that idea?” I said.
Michael turned back to me. “Don’t be such a bi—”
Sam’s arm moved to punch Michael’s face, but I grabbed him before he could connect, yanking him back. Michael laughed scornfully and walked away.
I pulled Sam through the lobby, passing by different rooms until I saw an unoccupied one and shoved him inside. I closed the door behind us and the small light in the ceiling dimmed the room filled with cleaning products. “You shouldn’t have stopped me,” Sam said.
“What I need you to do is calm down.”
His nostrils flared. “He was harassing you.”
I put my hands on his cheeks and he took a moment, visibly relaxing. “I can take care of myself and people like Michael. Thanks, though,” I said. Once his breathing slowed, I turned to leave the room but Sam grabbed my arm, looking at me in a way I recognized from the days of the break.
“Don’t do that,” I said, pulling away from his grasp. “We can’t do that. I need to talk to Cedric, and you aren’t exactly showing that you have me out of your system. At least be straightforward.”
“I am.”
I prodded my finger into his hard chest. “Actions speak louder than words.”
I didn’t say anything more, leaving and finding my way back to my assigned room. I opened the door to see the boys arguing about what to watch on my laptop. Jacob’s face fell when he saw my empty hands. “Where’s the ice cream?”
27
Fit into a Box
If Crenshaw Hills won their next game, they would be in the finals. And they were dominating each of their games. If we won this one, we’d be their opponent. This game would mostly be up to Sam. He knew where to pass the ball, he knew where to look, and he could sense what the other team was going to do in advance.
I sat on the bench, tearing a piece of a Pop-Tart Andrew had given me before the game started. The scout was talking to Coach at the side when Sam came over to me after helping lead a drill. “You all right?”
“How come you’re not captain?” He looked confused. “You’re amazing at soccer-football-whatever. You help and get everyone to improve on their skills. You’d be great.”
“You have a certain understanding with them.” He nodded at our teammates on the field. “You’re perfect as captain for this team. And, by the looks of it, you’re full of energy.”
I pressed my hand against my bouncing knee. “Is it that obvious?”
“I have an idea I want to share with you and the team. I told Coach but I need to run it by you, Captain.” He playfully knocked his shoulder against mine. He grabbed a clipboard and marker to show it to me, his knee pressed against my own.
I couldn’t get myself to score and Sam must’ve noticed, because when we were at 1–1 he kept passing the ball to me, and I’d just assist it back to him. Two of those many passes were intercepted by the other team.
We still won 2–1, and now we were in the finals. Against Crenshaw Hills. I’d scanned their practice on one of the indoor fields and they were a fit team now. There’d been a lot of improvement on the team, especially with Michael.
With the final game about to begin and Andrew on the sidelines, I wished Jasmine was here. She would’ve settled my nerves. Cedric would have too. Or Drake. Or Justin, holding my camera and taking a video of everything. If my dad was here he would’ve been the loudest person in the crowd.
I wished my mom was here.
“Ready?” Sam asked me and I nodded. He jogged to his spot, which was about six feet away from me.
The referee blew the whistle and the game started.
By halftime, the score was tied at zero apiece.
If we’d gone with our old formation, we would’ve lost the game, but with extra defense help from Sam’s strategy, we were able to keep possession of the ball for longer periods of time. As I ran off the field I was panting, and Andrew tossed me some water. “You’re doing great,” he said.
Jon Ming appeared. “They got really good.”
“Yeah,” Jacob agreed.
Sam ran over and I handed him my water. “We need to try runs instead of short passes. Michael is out to get you every time,” he said.
“You don’t think I know that?” I snapped.
Sam didn’t waver. “Save the attitude for the game.” We got into a huddle around Coach and Andrew.
When the whistle blew for us to get back on the field, Coach held me back. “You got this, Mace. Give it everything you’ve got.”
“I will,” I said, and took off onto the field. Four corners and one free kick later, time was running out. Brandon dived to grab the ball, shooting it up and curving it into the air. Jon Ming went for the header with another player on the opposing team as I tried to stay in their line of defense. The other player shoved Jon Ming slightly to get the ball and Jon Ming fell, dusting himself off as he got back up.
“Wow,” Michael whispered mockingly behind me.
I shot him a look as I ran forward. Jacob had the ball. “Hazel!” a voice called. Sam ran past me. “About fifteen seconds. Run!”
I sprinted once Jacob passed Sam the ball. Sam lay the ball off the side to Jon Ming. Jon Ming moved past a defender, passing it back to Sam—I had to get in line with Michael, the sweeper.
Sam shot the ball into the air, right toward me. I caught it with my feet, but Michael was close by, trying to get the ball away from me. His hands were on my jersey, pulling me back. I reared my leg back to take the shot, but pain shot up my calf and I fell onto the grass. The goalie dived forward and grabbed the ball. He shot the ball into the air and three long whistles blasted.
Someone lifted me up as I spat out a mouthful of turf. The pain was subsiding from where Michael had dug one of his cleats into my calf, but I knew a bruise was going to form there soon. “You all right? You did good,” Sam assured me but my anger toward Michael didn’t fade. “Penalty shoot-outs.”
Sam and I headed over to the rest of the team. As Coach spoke, my name came up on the roster of players. Everyone headed back onto the field but Andrew held me back. “You got a text.”
“You’re stopping me from heading over because of a text message?”
Andrew handed me my phone.
Drake: Jasmine said you guys are in the finals. Do good today
She knew. Both Drake and Jasmine knew about the game. Relief overcame me. I took a deep breath, shaking all the nerves out of my body, Drake’s voice in my head.
We stood with our teams, me between Sam and Andrew. Crenshaw would take the first shot. Brandon got in the net, hopping back and forth on his feet. One of Crenshaw’s players took their shot. Their team yelled. The goal went in—1–0.
Sam walked over, grabbed the ball, and placed it for his kick. He paused, looking up at the sky for a moment. The second Crenshaw’s goalie was ready and the referee blew the whistle, Sam didn’t even hesitate. He jogged over and kicked the ball swiftly past the goalie’s hands and into the net.
Our teammates patted him on the back when he returned. “That looked effortless,” I said.
He shrugged. “Depends on how you do it, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What would you prefer?” He grinned. “Tomboy?”
“That’s like me calling you bad boy.”
“Or Jacob calling you a pig.”
“Player,” I retorted, any sign of anxiousness within me fading with our banter.
“Bigfoot.”
“Cockroach.”
“Did you just call me a cockroach?”
“You called me bigfoot!”
“Because I’ve called you that before. Do I look like a cockroach to you?” We shared a laugh that I immediately cut off as Andrew stared at me.
The score reached 2–2 and my nerves escalated. Austin went for it an
d was close but the goalie’s fingers pushed the ball away from the corner.
We were down to one more penalty each. Brandon rubbed his goalie gloves together. “Come on, Brandon,” Sam mumbled.
Michael’s attention was on a spot of the net for too long. Brandon must’ve caught it, too, because once the ref blew the whistle and Michael kicked the ball, Brandon jumped to the right, slapping the ball to the ground. He dived down to hold it steady.
“You’ll be fine,” Sam said to me as everyone congratulated Brandon on his save. “That scout came all this way for you, you can do it.”
I made my way to the box as the ref placed the ball on the ground. I backed a few steps away from the ball when my Nonna’s words rang in my head: Just do your best. It’ll be enough. With soccer, it was always enough.
The whistle blew, piercing my ears.
I ran toward the ball and kicked it.
The ball flew through the air, barely scraping the goalie’s fingertips. When the ball hit the back of the net, my teammates cheered loudly and ran over, clasping me into a huge group hug. Sam’s eyes were the first ones I saw—I hugged him tightly to me as he lifted me up. When he moved to put me down, he intertwined our fingers together. The familiar action snapped me out of my happy trance, causing me to release our hands. “Hazel—”
“You said that we would never happen, remember? And I don’t want to hurt Cedric any more than I already have.”
Then I saw it. The guilt he’d been trying to push away surfaced in his green eyes. Suddenly I was being carried aloft by the others, Sam no longer in my view.
“Good one, Macy,” Andrew said before concern crossed his expression. “You okay?”
“Macy.” I turned around to face Coach and the scout with his clipboard. He put his hand out for me to shake and I shook it, anticipating the talk about my future.
The moment I returned to Port Meadow on Friday night, I went to Jasmine’s house. I was used to having her dad greet me at the door while the smell of her mom’s cooking would lead me straight to the kitchen. Drake would usually see me before his sister, ruffling my hair before leaving to go hang out with some friends, and I’d walk into Jasmine’s room, ready for her to make me watch another Star Wars movie or tell me about a new club she joined.
