Scorched Turf

by Lilah Grey

I stood to shake her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Rylee.”

  It was a firm handshake for once.

  “You as well,” she replied without breaking eye contact. Her eyes narrowed as though she were considering something.

  It was only when Coach Kay said we should get started that I realized we were still shaking each other’s hand. I could feel Coach Kay’s discerning gaze flash between us as we sat down.

  Rylee folded her hands on her lap, and after her gaze lingered a moment longer on me, she turned to Coach Kay.

  My focus remained on her. She had striking features: large, dark eyebrows, a sharp nose and jaw, plump lips, and an athletic build. And as the meeting progressed, it was clear that she was well aware of that fact, casting flirtatious glances and innuendos my way during lulls.

  After she left, Coach Kay hinted that Rylee had a history of pushing boundaries on and off the field. I reassured her that it wouldn’t be an issue; I was here to coach and help the team. Maintaining a strict Player/Coach boundary was a top priority.

  “Let’s see… Who’s next?” I glanced at Coach Kay, hoping that the end was near.

  “Corinne!” Coach Kay marked the paper with a checkmark as she stood up. “I can’t believe she never told me you two were step-siblings,” she said, shaking her head.

  I shrugged.

  “I’ll be back in a few.” Coach Kay left the office.

  A flash of nerves in my gut. Heaviness in my chest and limbs. I smoothed out the creases in my shirt, dusted off my pants, and stood up in an attempt to shake off the strange feelings. My heart raced, thumping hard against my ribcage.

  I checked my phone: no messages. I crossed the room, picked up the miniature soccer ball again, and then promptly set it back down.

  Probably not a good idea…

  I paced around the room, unable to still my racing thoughts. I studied my hands for a few moments and decided they looked odd and shoved them into my pockets. Finally, I sat back down and began whistling.

  When did I learn to whistle?

  “—excited to have him here,” Coach Kay said, finishing her sentence as she opened the door. “And here we are!” She beamed at me and then stepped aside.

  My heart rate spiked when I saw Cori standing there. This was the first time I had seen her in something other than workout clothes. And…

  Holy shit…

  Did I just say that out loud? I looked at Coach Kay; still smiling.

  Phew.

  Corinne’s jawline was sharp and disappeared into an elegant neck. I traced its line with my eyes until I reached her collarbone and realized that I was gawking at her. It was hard not to; she was gorgeous.

  Corinne’s eyes, a soft, cloudy blue, flitted to mine for a moment and then back to the ground.

  “Well, you two certainly don’t need an introduction,” Coach Kay said as she walked around Corinne and headed to her desk.

  “Hi, Cori,” I said with a wide smile as I stood up.

  She blushed, muttering something that might have been a greeting as I pulled her into a hug. Her body was tense when I wrapped my arms around her, but she relaxed after a few moments. My chin rested on top of her head. It was still damp from showering, and I closed my eyes as I breathed in her fresh, citrusy scent.

  We both pulled away, and I watched her as I sat back down in my chair. She smoothed the back of her sundress under her as she sat. Then she folded her hands on her lap and turned to her attention to Coach Kay.

  It was hard to believe the person sitting in front of me was Corinne. There was very little about her appearance that reminded me of the girl I’d known. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.

  Her eyes caught mine for a moment before she shifted her attention back to Coach Kay, chewing her bottom lip. Coach Kay started speaking, but with my attention on Corinne, her words were nothing more than white noise.

  9

  Corinne

  It wasn’t fair.

  How was I supposed to concentrate on Coach Kay with James sitting right there? No matter how hard I willed myself to focus on Coach Kay, I felt a constant, invisible tug from James, demanding my attention shift to him. It was a sort of magnetic attraction, one that had engulfed me from the moment I walked into the office and saw him.

  The tangle of nerves in my stomach coiled into an even tighter ball when I glanced at James again. His eyes were already trained on mine. My eyes shot back to Coach Kay as a burst of adrenaline flashed through my chest. I blinked and a snapshot of his image burned in my mind.

  I had thought that the intensity of my feelings for James had diminished over the years. At the very least, I thought I’d be able to steel myself enough that it wouldn’t be an issue.

  That plan went right out the window the moment I stepped into Coach Kay’s office, and he pulled me into him. I swear his cologne had some sort of mind-control compound in it. It had completely hijacked my brain, rewiring it so that I became all weak-kneed and moony in his presence.

  “—hired a new facilities—”

  With the maelstrom of thoughts whirling in my head, Coach Kay’s words came to me in fragments. I was already going to have a difficult season dealing with my injury, but now that James had been thrust into the mix, my future looked even more uncertain. I needed to figure out a way to stop all these impulses.

  Lobotomy? Hmm… maybe not.

  “Cori?” Coach Kay said. Judging by the expressions both her and James were leveling at me, this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get my attention.

  “Yes?” I said with a smile, wiping away my blank expression.

  “How’s your knee? Still giving you troubles?”

  “Sometimes. I’ve had—”

  “Your right ACL, correct?” James said, interrupting me.

  A flash of heat in my chest. I forced a brief smile. “Correct.” I turned back to Coach Kay. “I’ve had a few flare-ups but nothing unbearable. I’m feeling good about it and the rest of the season.”

  I was downplaying it, but I didn’t want Coach Kay to have any cause for concern about my ability to play. I knew that in time, once the season started, my knee would get better and there wouldn’t be any more issues. At least, that’s my hope.

  “How’d it happen?” James asked.

  The image of Tyler and Rylee flashed in my mind, but I quickly forced it out. Before I had the chance to respond, Coach Kay took my silence as an opportunity to respond for me.

  “It was an unfortunate accident last season. Locked her knee going for a tackle. And well…” She paused for a moment and her eyes narrowed as though she were reliving the event. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone scream like that before…”

  Oh. My God. My face was on fire.

  “But I do believe she’s on the mend!” Coach Kay added quickly, flashing a sheepish smile at me.

  I had no words. I wanted nothing more than to tuck and roll out of this imminent crash.

  “Well, Corinne,” Coach Kay said, trying to redirect the conversation back on course. “What are your goals for this year?”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, besides a championship, of course, I’d like to get drafted. I want to play professionally.”

  James perked up a little but remained silent.

  “Oh that’s wonderful news. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with that.”

  “So long as your knee holds out,” James added.

  Really? Did that even need to be said? This coming from Mr. Hurt-Toe…

  Why was he being rude? A lump formed in my throat. I didn’t want to think about a future in which I wasn’t drafted.

  “Well, I’m sure that won’t be an issue, James,” Coach Kay said, eyeing him. “Any specific teams?”

  “Whichever one will draft me…” I said without even thinking about it, immediately wishing I could grab the words and shove them back into my mouth.

  James snorted. “Aiming high, I see.”

  I frowned at him.

  My answer wa
s basically true: I didn’t care which team drafted me. All that mattered to me was getting drafted. But, if I were completely honest, there was one team I’d hoped to play for: The Blazers.

  “Has any team reached out yet?” Coach Kay asked.

  And there went my already plummeting mood.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Usually there was at least some line of communication between potential draftees and teams. An email here. Maybe a call. At least that’s how it had happened with past teammates.

  “Well, it’s still early. Any top picks?” It was hard to stay gloomy around Coach Kay.

  “The Blazers. But I don’t know if—”

  “The Blazers?” James interjected. Again. “You know they just picked up Elise Morrow and Mia Foster, right? They wouldn’t pick up another forward.”

  He was so nonchalant about it, as though he were talking about the weather and not completely ruining my day. Even though it was true, what was he thinking?

  I tried to respond, but my throat had already begun to constrict and what came out was a garbled mess. Swallowing was all but impossible; my mouth and throat were completely dry.

  Color drained from Coach Kay’s normally ruddy cheeks as she scrambled to find the words to fix what James had said. But there wasn’t a fix. It was hurtful and horrible and I had to leave.

  “W-wait,” he mumbled, his face awash with confusion.

  I didn’t want to hear another word out of his mouth. I grabbed my bag and left the room, not even wasting the energy to shut the door behind me.

  “Hold up!” he called after me.

  I kept walking toward the exit at the end of the hall.

  “Leave her be!” Coach Kay bellowed. “Get in here and sit down.”

  I had never heard Coach Kay raise her voice, and I felt a little satisfaction knowing that James was on the receiving end. A ghost of a smile flashed across my face, but it disappeared just as quickly at it came.

  The wound left by his words was still raw.

  10

  Corinne

  Everything looked strange and unfamiliar in the dark. I hadn’t taken my usual route back to my apartment. Instead, I followed a meandering path that weaved through campus in an attempt to clear my head of all the chatter.

  It wasn’t working very well.

  I found a bench that overlooked the mall behind the library and sat down. A lone squirrel crouched in the middle of the lawn, munching contentedly on an acorn. I caught bits of random conversations from people passing by. Crickets creaked while cicadas buzzed. The various sounds blended together into a deafening hum, but it wasn’t enough to drown out James’s hurtful words.

  I covered my face with my hands as I replayed the meeting in my head once again. Why didn’t I snap back at James? If it were anyone else, I would’ve stuck up for myself, but for some reason with James, I locked up. My mind went blank, and my entire body went numb.

  I leaned back against the bench and let my hands fall from my face. Part of the bench was cracked and splintering, and I started picking at it absently as I continued to swim against the current of thoughts in my head.

  Maybe he was right; I wasn’t ready for a professional team. I wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, and when it came down to it, I just wasn’t good enough.

  I hated doubting myself, but more than that, I hated that someone else had the power to make me doubt myself. Before that meeting, I thought I had a great chance at getting drafted. Sure, it was going to be difficult, but I was ready for that. After the meeting, I’d lost that certainty.

  The sprinklers switched on, and the grass reflected the pale yellow light from the lampposts that lined the walkways. The squirrel, still holding the acorn in its mouth, zig-zagged under the arcs of water and disappeared up a tree at the opposite end of the lawn.

  I was actually jealous of the squirrel. The biggest worries in his life was remembering where he buried his food and dodging water sprinklers. What a life. And how pathetic was I being right now…

  I’m not sure how long I sat on the bench, but judging from the splintered mess next to me, I had been sitting there for a while. It took every ounce of energy left inside me not to topple over when I finally stood up from the bench.

  My legs didn’t want to budge; they screamed at me with every step, urging me to stop what I was doing or there’d be a mutiny on my hands. If it were possible to roll all the way back to my apartment, I would have. Somehow, I made it back to my apartment without my legs collapsing under me.

  The lights were off; Violet must have already left for work. She bartended part-time at a dive bar downtown for extra money. It paid well, and she seemed to enjoy it so long as it didn’t cut into her study sessions at the library.

  If Violet wasn’t at home or bartending, she could be found ensconced deep in the library stacks reading a book or reviewing her notes. And sometimes, when she was supposed to be bartending, she could be found in that same place.

  I think that’s why we bonded so well. We both shared a similar kind of dedication, even though our focus was different; academic studies for her and soccer for me. I admired her resolve, and at times, I hoped that it rubbed off on me.

  I walked into the kitchen and found a note on the counter.

  Rent’s due in a few days. Could I get your check soonish? Thanks! P.S. I hope your meeting went well! I made you a batch of cookies to celebrate. See you later! -Vi

  Next to the note was a small plate stacked high with cookies whose colors ranged from light brown to charcoal. After removing the plastic wrap, I grabbed one that wasn’t completely charred. I eyed it suspiciously from all angles before nibbling a piece of it.

  As soon as it touched my tongue I realized what Violet had done. She mixed up the salt and sugar. A salt bomb went off in my mouth almost immediately.

  I dropped the cookie into the trash and gulped down a glass of water to rinse out the salt mine in my mouth. I walked back to the table and grabbed the plate of cookies, intent on destroying them before someone else had the misfortune of eating one. But before I had the chance, I remembered the note; a sinking feeling blanketed me. Rent.

  Women’s collegiate soccer was underfunded—our program, especially. We didn’t draw packed crowds to our games. We didn’t bring in large sums of money into the university in the form of sponsorships or endorsements. The only thing we brought was our excitement and love for the game.

  But apparently that love didn’t pay any bills or draw sympathy from the University’s Board of Regents that decided our program’s budget and the terms of each our scholarships. Living expenses were covered in my scholarship, but only if I lived in the team housing. Once I left the team housing, my funding for living expenses was pulled.

  Thankfully, my mother has been helping me with rent. But, as with all favors from my mom, this favor came with strings attached.

  I didn’t want to ask for her help, but at the time, I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t live in the same house as Rylee, seeing her at practice was bad enough. Living with her, seeing her during the scarce free time I had would’ve been torture. I couldn’t deal with the constant reminder of Tyler’s betrayal, reliving that pain everyday.

  I considered finding a job, but with my intense soccer schedule and workload from school, I didn’t have time for a part-time job. Not unless I wanted to sacrifice sleep and flush my future in soccer down the drain.

  In the end, I asked my mother for help, even though I knew no matter what arrangement we’d come up with, she’d come out with the better end. Desperation wasn’t exactly the best bargaining chip.

  She agreed to help cover my rent, and she didn’t disappoint; there was one string attached. Although, maybe a rope would be a more appropriate descriptor, so long as that rope was also leashed to my neck…

  I crumbled the note and tossed it in the trash.

  Maybe my mother had already transferred this month’s money to my account. I laughed as soon as the thought crossed my mind; t
here was no way that would happen. She always wanted to check in, gauge my progress on her requirement before she disbursed any money. I made stuff up, hoping she’d be satisfied, and I could live in peace for another month before the cycle repeated.

  I hadn’t checked in this month.

  My stomach sank when my bank balance flashed across my screen.

  $23.37

  There’s a sort of helplessness that comes hand in hand with being poor. A lack of control. It follows you everywhere, a constant nagging in the back of your mind.

  As I fell back against my bedspread, my thoughts drifted to James. After I had gotten over this initial shock of him dropping in out of nowhere, I started to get excited (and somewhat nervous) about spending time with him again. I wanted to hear all about his travels and everything else I missed when we fell out of contact. But after that meeting, I wasn’t so sure about it anymore.

  I couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; he was notorious for being an asshole in the press.

  I used to think that it was exaggeration, something the media printed to draw in readers. Hyperbole. The James portrayed in the media wasn’t the James I remembered. He’s wasn’t arrogant or quick-tempered. He was helpful and caring, albeit a little intense at times, but he wasn’t some out-of-control bad boy womanizer. At least, that’s what I thought until I witnessed his attitude firsthand.

  Maybe I never knew the real James after all. Maybe I had built him up to be something he wasn’t.

  I sighed. What did it matter anyway? I needed to forget about James and focus on getting drafted.

  My phone buzzed.

  I reached for it, figuring I’d find some weird picture from Chloe. Instead, a number I didn’t recognize flashed on the screen. And next to it was a short message: I’m sorry. -J

  My heart raced. Excitement welled in my core, fanned out to the rest of my body, and then promptly sunk like a lead weight as my mind finally caught up with my heart.

  That’s not an apology. Two words? It was an afterthought. Coach Kay probably put him up to it. That was the best he could muster?

  No apology would’ve been preferable to that.