She's the Man / Roy Kent

Chapter twenty four.

    Ada and Roy nodded, approving of his British vocabulary.

    "Are corrects," Ted wrongly continued, causing the two to shake their heads and exchange a look. "We're going to have to sit someone. Who's it going to be?"

    There was no easy answer. The boys had long adapted to the way of things, and they'd grown beyond comfortable with their set positions. Moving a first teamer to the bench was. . . well, it bordered on being a slight. And what was more, it also altered everyone else's playing. To sit out player A was to hinder the way in which player B passed the ball, and it shifted player C's method of routined defence.

"Well," Beard sighed after a moment of contemplation. "It's gotta be Colin."

"Ouch." Ted frowned.

Ada rubbed at her brow and turned back to face the whiteboard. Her elbow knocked against Roy's middle. "Sorry," She quietly mumbled, now studying the tactic. It was a brief moment before she spoke up again. "Sitting out Colin doesn't sound right."

"Colin's a chameleon," Roy reminded, tone relatively gentle. The last he needed was for her to feel guilty about strategy. "He can change depending on a situation."

Trent tilted his head, watching them.

"That's actually a misconception." Ada couldn't help but reveal. "I mean, yeah, chameleons can change colour, but they don't just blend in with their environment, d'you get me? Like, they only get a few colour choices. And the change has more to do with their moods. The Ambiolobe Panther Chameleon has a pretty cool range, but, again, they don't really adapt. That's a bit of a common myth."

Roy pursed his lips, "Okay."

Beard could only shake his head in mild incredulity. "Anyways, bigger issue is, if you guys put Zava in front, then that means either Jamie or Dani will have to drop back to midfield."

    "So, who do we think will take the news better?" Ted asked, eyes darting around the office. "Dani or Jamie?"

     Ada shot him a stale look. Becoming a midfield striker didn't necessarily demean or diminish the role, but chances were that it would feel that way to her brother. He was always the sensitive sort, Jamie. When they were kids, he would shrink and bristle at the smallest things, like when a teacher would correct his spelling, or when an older relative referred to him as James. There was no doubt in her mind that being pushed away from the penalty channels would have a negative impact – because her twin thrived in the spotlight, yes, and because he loved showcasing his skills in the tension zones, sure, but also because he never did well with feeling replaced.

    (A rather recent, and predominantly bitter, memory that stuck out to her was from Ted's first season as manager. When Jamie kept pointing to the back of his shirt and yelling out his own praises. The first half of the match had ended with him being benched, and with Ada suggesting that they have Smith play in his stead. Despite having been filled with a seething ire, she could recall the subdued guilt in her belly. An instinctive emotion, she supposed. And it had flooded her system when a look of betrayal made its way onto her brother's confused face.

Although, she'd never really regretted that decision. Because Jamie had deserved to be demoted. He wasn't a team player back then. He'd been selfish. It was a completely different story now, though, and Ada didn't see any reason to push her brother towards the centre line – not since he's proved himself worthy, and not when she knew how insecure he could be.)

"Dani." Everyone eventually concluded.

"Yeah," Ted agreed, moving away from the board and plopping down at his desk. "See, Jamie's a lot like my mom's Precious Moments figurines collection."