The Hunt for Tyrell Banks

Chapter 12 - New friends in the field

Riley's advice to me by the poolside was that I should help my parents by being 'normal'. Which meant going to school. Doing my best. That I should allow 'life to proceed'. And in return, he wouldn't tell mom and dad I was hunting cocaine for them.

A fair deal, I guess.

What I wasn't gonna tell Riley was that maybe I could do both. Maybe I could 'allow life to proceed' and track down cocaine for mom and dad. 

But first things were first, which meant I would let myself be 'normal'. And to do this, I would jump into what I did best. It was something that I was good at ever since I was a gangly-yet-not-so-tall twelve-year old girl in New Hampshire. Something I discovered I had a natural talent for even back then.

And that 'something' was... soccer.

The very next day was Tuesday, which meant try-outs for the under-seventeens team. The teacher running the show at Benson Field was a very cool-looking dude named Coach Hardy, who was tall – over six feet easy – and muscular as heck.

"Afternoon, ladies," he said to us as we coalesced into an awkward mass of tenth- and eleventh-graders. Then he tapped the clipboard. "Right, I see twenty of you here, which is about five too many for the under-seventeen's first-eleven, hmm. Just remember, some of you here mighta been in last year's under-seventeens squad but that don't change a thing, y'hear? Try-outs are try-outs. You play, you perform, you do what you gotta do, and I'll see what I gotta see. You with me?"

"Yes, Coach!" some of the girls replied. They were obviously last year's squad, mostly eleventh graders.

"I got some new names on here," Coach Hardy continued. "Even got a recommendation from Mr. Garret for one or two o' you." He paused, tapped the clipboard again. "Thadie Bi... Biyela? That how you say it?"

A tall and beautiful black girl next to me threw one hand up. "Yes sir, here sir!"

"Garret said you cleared the track sprint in twelve seconds. That true?"

The girl grinned cheerily. "Eleven ninety eight, sir."

There was a smattering of awe at this.

"Eleven ninety eight is good, Thadie. You won't have to repeat that today, but it is a good, good start." The Coach looked again at his clipboard. "Then I got a... Hanna Warrick. You here?"

(He had pronounced my surname as 'War Rick', but I was cool with that.)

"Here, sir!" I replied.

Coach Hardy looked at me. "Ho man, you knocked Garret's socks off the other day. Said you were some kinda prodigy."

The other girls all turned to look at me, and I turned red. Fortunately Kris was there to back me up.

Or so I thought.

"She's like Megan Rapinoe, coach!" Kris said. There was more laughter, some of it clearly cynical.

Thanks for nothing, Kris.

"That right?" Coach Hardy replied. "Well, I guess we'll see, huh."

I punched Kris on the shoulder. "Coach is gonna put me through the grinder now," I said, glowering. "You bring a broom?"

Kris batted her eyelashes at me. "But, my, whatsoever for, dahling?" she said. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"So you can sweep up whatever's left of me after today, you reprobate," I said.

"What's a repo... a repobarate?"

"You."

"Ah." She thought about this for a moment. "Does it mean 'bitch'?"