"Warm up's over, ladies," Coach Brenner said after his whistle. I immediately stopped jogging around the field and took deep breaths as I sat on the grass. The girls from the track and field team ran on the track outside the field, smiling at whoever made eye contact with them. I got two smiles today and that was when I looked unintentionally.
I had almost forgotten soccer practice was today until Dylan said he had an audition after school. I felt so weak; I hadn't had anything after the burger, and I didn't have an appetite to eat anything, either. My stomach still ached but I did a good job at concealing it.
"Hey Reeve," Coach said to Dylan. Dylan paid him no attention as Coach Brenner repeated his name, getting more frustrated by the second.
"It's Reed," I corrected the coach as I stood up from the grass.
"What?" Coach asked, confused.
"It's Dylan Reed," I repeated myself, almost out of breath. The coach looked at his list and muttered something inaudible.
"Reed," he said, in the same volume as the first time he had called him. Dylan turned to the coach with a smile on his face. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face so bad.
"Coach Brenner," he said.
Coach turned to me. "Forrester, get in the net. Reev-I mean Reed, you're against the rest of the team," he said. Dylan smirked at me, cocking his brow in the process and I felt the hairs of my neck stand at his reaction.
I dragged myself to the goal and strapped on my gloves and positioned myself in the middle of the goal. The girls from track had stopped and stood by the soccer field to watch the solo-match. Sarah joined them and stood with her arms crossed in interest at what would happen.
Dylan shook his legs out and set his eyes on the goal; I didn't meet his. I took a deep breath as the Coach whistled and Dylan sprung into action. He weaved past the defenders of the opposite team, lifting the ball with his foot, circling the ball around in mind tricks and tripping the opponents in the process. He was good, unexpectedly good. I could see Sarah's jaw dropping at how good he was, and I knew I had to match up with him, but I couldn't let him lose.
He was closer towards me and I paced myself for the possible goal. I had to let him score because he was Dylan, but then there was Sarah, whom I wanted to impress. I had to sacrifice being hurt by Dylan or letting Dylan impress Sarah, and I only had a few short seconds to figure it out.
Dylan was closer now, and I lifted my hands in front of me and focused on the ball that I had to stop. It all seemed so long, yet it all happened so quickly that it was almost a blur. Before anyone from my team could stop him from making the goal, he kicked the ball with the side of his foot and let out an exhale as he kicked it. The ball sped towards me in an unprecedented speed but I knew its direction. I jumped to my right and took the ball's blow to my stomach and hugged it tightly. I landed on the soft grass a bit forcefully and I realized that I had successfully prevented Dylan from scoring the goal. I looked up, and saw Sarah grinning widely at me as she jumped up and down in victory. I smiled back.
I got up from the grass and brushed the soil off myself as I placed the ball on the ground. I couldn't look at Dylan. I knew he made the team, he literally outran seven players and almost won the goal.
"Forrester, that was quite a save. Reed, excellent attacking," Coach Brenner told us. Dylan was right beside me. I could feel his temper right under my nose, as if teasing my senses to prepare for the worse.
"Thanks, Coach," Dylan said with a nod.
"Forrester, back in the net. Reed, you're on the team," Coach said as he patted Dylan's back. I gulped and retreated back to the net. I was going to let him win this one.
I adjusted the straps on my gloves and looked around for Sarah, who disappeared straight after I had blocked Dylan's shot.
It was all sudden; I screamed out loud. I covered my face with my face and fell to the ground. A sharp pain soared through my face, as if something had hit me hard. Tears clouded my vision as I tried to look around for what had happened but I only heard sounds of laughter and I tried to speak but failed. The taste of metal, of blood, filled my mouth and I spat it out on the field.
The tears lessened and my vision became sharper. Dylan was still laughing at me with the rest of the team who didn't really think I was in pain. Coach Brenner was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey drama queen," I heard Dylan say outloud, and chuckles pursued. I pressed my hand against my nose; it wasn't bleeding. My lip was split, though.
Dylan paced around me. "First rule of defense; expect the unexpected," he said, loud enough for the remaining of the team to hear. They laughed and nodded in agreement. Dylan stepped closer towards me and squatted on the ground beside me to whisper, "See what I do in public to you? Imagine what I can do in private," he threatened. My heart raced and my mouth was dry except for the taste of blood from my lip.
"Try humiliating me again, Jamie, and I swear to you this would be considered a luxury," he said. I swallowed the blood and wiped my eyes with my jersey away from the eyes of the teammates.
"Get up," Dylan said as Coach Brenner walked towards us with a cup fo coffee in hand. Dylan walked back to his teammates and left me alone in the net. Coach furrowed his brow at me.
"Forrester what's with the lip?" he asked, pointing at my bottom lip.
I looked at Dylan who pressed his tongue against his cheeks, anticipating my answer.
"I split my lip while falling on the net," I lied. It was probably physically impossible but I hoped Coach would believe it, and he did. Dylan beamed at me and returned to talk to his friends. He jogged towards me and ruffled my hair.
"Atta boy," he said and I looked away.
*
The soft clinking of utensils against the plates and the smell of sauteed vegetables caused me a headache and I pressed on the bridge of my nose.
"Jamie," Dad said, interrupting my thoughts. I couldn't believe it was dinnertime, I thought the day was never going to end. Too much was happening at once.
"Yeah?" I replied.
"You haven't touched your plate," he said, pointing at my full plate.
I shrugged. "I kind of spoiled my dinner," I lied.
"No you didn't," Jake interfered, and I shot him a look. "You were in your room the whole time," he expanded.
I gave him a sour look and forced a spoonful of pasta in my mouth. I grimaced; my lip still hurt from the ball. My mom shook her head at me. I had told them I split my lip by missing a step in school, and they sort of seemed to buy it.
"I really want to get that checked out," she said.
"No!" I objected a bit too loudly. My family looked at me with a puzzled look. "I mean there's no need, I'll just apply sugar on it. It seems to do the trick," I said with a shrug.
"Anyway," Dad said, thankfully changing the subject. "Are going with me to the campaign office tonight?" he said as he took a sipped his glass of water.
I wasn't feeling so well, but at the same time I hadn't been to the campaign office in a week, which was embarrassing. "Uh, yeah," I said with a weak smile, and my lip quivered. Dad beamed and left the table, to which I excused myself.
I applied sugar to my lip and waited outside the house for my father, who followed shortly after. We got in the car, which my father was driving, and not his driver.
"Ready?" he asked me with a smile. I nodded.
"We're almost done with the campaign preparations," he said as he turned on the radio.
"Oh," I said, not knowing what to reply.
"So how was soccer today?" he asked.
I paused before speaking. "Um, it was alright," I said with a shrug.
"Roger said Dylan got on the team," Dad said, and he turned to look at my reaction.
"Yeah he did," I said, trying to sound indifferent about it.
"You don't look too ecstatic about it," Dad said, adding a soft smile. I gulped.
"No I'm fine with it, honestly," I lied. I was beginning to lie a lot, and I hated it. It was a shitty feeling sinking in my gut and I tried to ignore it but I knew it would end up haunting me.
"Alright," Dad said, as if believing me. "You know," he said. "I'm really glad you and Dylan with friends. It's comforting knowing his background and what his family is like," he continued. I almost scoffed at his comment. He didn't know Dylan. No one knew Dylan but myself.
The rest of the ride was quiet, and my dad was bobbing his head to the beat at the last song. He parked in the VIP spot of the office parking and I reluctantly got out of the car, especially with no energy left.
We walked towards the entrance and I was dragging the amount of people I had to greet and shake hands with. Dad opened the glass doors of the office and people instantly stopped working to cheer us, as if my father had won the election.
"Jamie!" Mike, a twenty-something-year-old volunteer said as he shook my hand.
"Mike, hi," I replied.
"I haven't seen you in a while!" he said and I recoiled.
"Jamie." Please God, no, I prayed. I didn't think you'd come." Dylan was standing right beside Peter and he smirked at me.
"Jamie's gonna handle inventory with me," he told Peter as he slapped him softly against his back. Peter nodded understandingly and said goodbye to me, only I secretly hoped Peter would stay with us. I was guessing something had happened between the two; I wouldn't be surprised. Either that or Dylan had him under his "spell".
"Come," Dylan said as he handed me a notepad and pen. I gulped and followed him unwillingly to the storage room at the far end of the hallway. It was pitch dark upon our entry and Dylan turned on the row of flourescent lights. We were in a small room with three shelves filled with boxes and posters. It had no other second entrance and the lights were almost dim.
My heart was galloping as in a race; it was the perfect setting for him to get away with anything.
"Don't worry," I heard him say, as if reading my mind. "I won't do anything to you tonight," he said with a smirk. "Unless you want me to," he added with a wink. I shook my head; he was insane.
"How's your lip? It still looks bad," he said as he stepped towards me and I surprisingly didn't flinch. His concerned tone surprised me, especially since he was the one who intentionally caused it.
"It needs time," I said as I looked away.
I heard him scoff. "I don't give a fuck," he said and I bit my tongue. "Let's just do this, I want to go home."
He grabbed a notepad from the table and walked towards the shelves.
"I'm actually surprised you showed up especially since I showed you all the dirt on your dad," Dylan said as he counted the contents of a box. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes.
"I didn't believe it," I confessed. I waited for the blow.
"Then how come you didn't read the documents?" he said. He stepped towards me until we were inches apart. I could feel his hot breath against the cold air of the storage. "Is it because you're afraid of the truth, Jamie?" he said, bringing his face closer to mine.
"No, it's because there's no need for me to read something I don't believe in," I replied a bit softly. I was scared what he might do to me, but he said he wouldn't do anything to me. I knew there was a big chance that was a lie, but something told me he was being honest.
"What, that your father is a fucked up man?" he said with a smirk. I had enough. I pushed him away from me forcefully and he shelf behind him, shaking the contents in the process.
He smiled. "Getting a bit feisty, aren't we?" he said. "I'll get you for that petty push later," he said as he cocked his brow. "It's okay, Jamie," he said softly as he stepped towards me. "We're all a bit fucked up in the head; there's no need to feel ashamed" he said.
I began to speak, "J-Just because someon's messed up doesn't mean-"
"I didn't say messed up," he interrupted. "I said fucked up," he added with a smile. My legs were weak now, and I realized there was no way I could win an argument against him.
"Let's just do this," I said in a softer tone, before things would get out of hand.