right where you left me

Chapter 47 - Summertime Sadness

Caitlin and I got to the Wolfsburg game together. She drove while I stuck to being the passenger. I never liked driving. We left super early to avoid the London traffic (but it never works. That city never has clear roads).

As we got to the changeroom, there were a few notable absences, including Leah. I knew I had to expect it. She was injured. She wouldn't be there. She wouldn't be here again.

"You alright?" Caitlin asked as we sat beside each other, her as 19 and me as 18.

"Just- just feels weird."

"I know..." Caitlin agreed, as her eyes looked over at Wally. I rested my head on her shoulder, before continuing to tie my laces.

Jonas started to speak, walking us through the game plan. I would be playing as the 8, as Frida was the 10, with Wally as the 6. I was becoming more content with the 8, liking it more and more as I played it increasingly. Caitlin was also starting, which wasn't a surprise. Not only had she been killing it, but our current injury crisis meant that if you were healthy, you were playing. Our bench was minimal, made up mostly of keepers or academy players.

We lined up on the pitch, Wally acting now as our captain. She had a composure to her that was admirable, but she was no Leah. She was our captain, but not the true captain. Not our inevitable captain.

The game soon commenced, and as I looked around 60,000 people filled the stands. Except, I was only looking for one, and I found her. She was sitting in the box, on the second level. I could see her crutches balanced against the railing. Her eyes were looking at mine. I breathed. I breathed knowing she was here. Protecting me, even though I couldn't protect her.

Time to do this.

Doing it for Leah.

Doing it for my 6.

We scored first. Stina scored in the 11th minute. The crowd erupted; the screaming, the cheering, and the flags went wild. I felt the entire stadium move. This is what we lived for. We lived for the sound, the wildness, and energy. It would bring us home.

But then they scored. Jill got a goal of her her own at the Emirates. I looked over to Eden as this happened. She was cheering, screaming, and showing the support her team deserved. But then we caught eyes.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to me, and I could only laugh.

"It's okay," I mouthed back.

In the second half, they scored again. This time, the crowd was silent. I could hear everything: every roar, every chips packet crumble, and every person sigh. Everyone thought it was over. Everyone thought our time was up.

We were to bow out.

But I had hope.

"Doing it for my six," I said, under my breath, as we reset for kick-off.

We managed to get a corner, and as I went to the flag to take it, I pictured it in my head. A looping in-swinger, a run by Jen, and a header into the back of the net.

I put two arms up, before providing the exact header I imagined in my head. Just as I had hoped, Jen came running in, leaping to press her head to the ball. She targeted it to the net, getting past the Wolfsburg keeper.

She had done it. We had done it.

It was 2-2. Jen ran up to me, and I jumped onto her, before we went over to the Arsenal fans, trying to bring the fire out that we all had burning inside of us. They had it; we had it.

It soon went into extra time.

We were all fading. All of us: exhausted. No subs were to be made. No subs could be made.