RUN FOR ME #2

Chapter 1 - Time To Run

"Is it just me, or is anyone else losing a concerning volume of sweat?" Jade asks, using her hands to fan her face.

Sat in this small bus, looking out at the shimmering buildings around us, I must admit that this place is different to New Jersey. 

"How are we supposed to train in his heat? How are we supposed to play in this heat?" Jade continues. 

Giving her a look, I urge my friend to be quiet. After hours of travelling on a humid plane, it's pretty obvious that the other girls are low on energy.  

"Jade, this is Arizona." Coach points out, shooting a silencing look from the front. "You'll just have to adapt."

"Adapt my ass." Jade mutters under her breath, shuffling across the aisle to sit by me. "I give us a week."

"A week for what?" I ask, only half focussing on what she's saying. Instead, I analyse the army of brooding cacti plants that line the concrete road. They come in every fashion; ranging from sharp and spikey, to squat and fluffy, to six feet tall, to flowery posts of greenness.

"A week before one of us dies of dehydration." Jade sighs, resting her small head on the seat in front. 

I tear my eyes away from the exotic vegetation and study her small face. Pulling her excessive mass of braids into one large pile on the top of her head, Jade closes her eyes and leans back into the chair. Her dark, smooth skin glistens in the heat.  Despite being my best friend, I cannot help but envy her. Jade is small with curves to die for. Her wide frame makes her sturdy, yet her shortness makes her quick like a bullet; a great combination to have as a defender on the hockey pitch. Whereas I am tall and slim, with the figure of a baby giraffe; passed down by my Mamma, who was also a striker on the field. Jade is packed with muscle, ready to dive head-first into a tackle on the pitch; I am lean and long, and would probably die after five minutes in her position. She thrives in the stressful moments of the game, when the pressure mounts to the point that she has no option but to defend with everything that she's got. Whereas I thrive at the top of the pitch, using my long legs to outrun the competition. Because of our differences, Jade and I work so well together. We're a unit on the field, and off it too.

"You can be so dramatic." I say, wiping my damp face with the sleeve of my jersey.

"You can be sooo dramatic." Jade mimics, in a Swedish accent. I raise a brow but don't rise to her bait. Instead, I turn back to study the beating heart of Phoenix again.

For the next five minutes, Jade respects everybody's need for silence and slips her headphones  over her braids. I already know that she's listening to her pre-match R&B playlist; hyping herself up for when we get off of the bus and walk into a mass of competing teams. America's most renowned field hockey teams. One from almost every state on the east coast, and a few from the west coast. As I look out at the dusty road, the sandy parking lots, and the noticeable absence of green in my surroundings, I remind myself of how hard this semester is going to be. The Union of American Field Hockey chose Phoenix, Arizona, to be the host city for a reason. We're going to be tested in every way as athletes. Can we adapt to these intense humid conditions? Can we sustain our team dynamic under the pressure of other renowned competitors? Can we train away from home and withstand the test of twenty four hour contact with our own team members? Can we balance our academic studies with our athletic careers, in a new environment, away from the support of our families and school friends? 

Arizona may not be the obvious state to the hockey championships, but it is most definitely a smart choice made by the UAFH, a choice that will determine which teams are America's greatest.

Looking around at the girls with their designer hockey kits and expensive sticks, I can't help but feel a little guilty for not sharing their dreams of wanting to become famous through the sport. In fact, I couldn't imagine anything worse. The crippling pressure. The unwanted attention. The heavy expectations that lie on your shoulders. Having no free time to be yourself and do what you want to do. 

A familiar uneasy feeling diffuses into my stomach, making me feel  uncomfortable. I try to silence the little voice in the back of my head whispering 'You're trapped.'

"Two minutes girls." Coach chirps up from the front of the bus, making the rest of the girls perk up a little. I watch as the girls that I've known for almost five years stretch out their stiff limbs, and prepare for the challenge ahead. 

Outside, the surroundings are changing slightly as we reach the edge of the inner city. The architecture becomes cleaner, more modern, and richer. The armies of cacti plants that overwhelm each roadside become fewer by the second, rapidly evolving from swamps of prickles to carefully manicured gardens.  The concrete roads that run with heat-induced cracks become smoother under the wheels of the bus until the background noise almost disappears completely. The huge skyscrapers and inner city buildings that were buzzing with life and energy are lost to the serenity of this  area, lined with beautiful looking houses, parks, and small shops. The bus slows at the end of a street, as the lights change. I get a glimpse of the polished street sign, Rose Street, and can't help but sigh. The abandoned street, paved with artistic lawns, double garages, sleek 4X4 cars, and white-columned houses, sends a shiver down my spine. Back home in New Jersey, I live with my Mamma and Fader in a small flat on the suburbs of Montclair. There's barely enough space for one fully grown adult, never mind three of us.  

The bus lurches forwards, and I notice that the other girls begin stripping off their plain T-shirts,  replacing them with our team jerseys. On the green and white material, our surnames are printed in bold along with our individual player numbers. I glance over my shoulder at my own back to see SJOBERG printed in emerald across my shoulder blades with a large 1 dominating the rest of my back. 

We start to pull up to what must be the host high school that we will all be attending for the first semester of senior year, and I can't help but feel slightly out of place. Once we get off of this bus, we really are in Arizona, at the other side of the country to our families and friends. Everything becomes real. The dream that we have been working towards for the past year and a half will actually begin; throwing us head first into a world of spotlights, pressure, competition, and responsibility. I look down at my jersey once more, just like I do every time that I have my doubts, and remind myself of who I am, and how hard I've worked with these girls to get here. 

The bus stops and the girls stand up, bedraggled looks thrown out of the window. One by one, we slip our game faces on. Where thirteen tired-looking teenagers slouched two minutes ago, thirteen powerful athletes now stand. Regardless of our different plans for the future, we came here to become US champions. I don't know what this semester is going to throw at us, at me, but one thing is certain- I feel ready.