She hadn't lied about the intensity they were going to bring. I didn't stop my talking because I had to constantly direct people around, too busy with trying to get the offense the ball to yell at any specific player. They continually just shoved it back down our throats, back down mine and I struggled to breath. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and they'll be out of gas.
A wing charged down the field, Nate right on his tail. Carter and Jarod were still our center mids, staying close on their marks. The wing didn't have someone to pass to as Nate caught up to him, stepping in front and putting the wing on his back. Nate glanced around frantically, looking for a someone. Mark, now playing right defender, cut out and called for the drop but the other player kicked it out from between his legs. Mark took the throw in, sending it far down the line. Mark was really big on basketball, so with his arm strength his throws were the farthest by a landslide. Oliver sprinted to it as it sailed past Nate's head, looking for a center mid to pass to. Jarod rushed to space as he passed a 50/50 ball. Their sweeper plowed Jarod over, clearing the ball back our way. It was a hard hit, one that would've stunned me for a moment, but Jarod popped back up, jogging back, but with a slight limp. I saw him wave over at his mom, asking for a break.
The ball went out of bounds, and Dakota came back in for Jarod. He didn't try to show that his ankle was hurting him, but he couldn't help the limp. He'd want to go straight back in, I knew it, but it didn't look good. Jarod was an extremely important asset to the team, he was like the glue that kept the midfield together. Without him things were either staying on their end a lot, or on ours. Of course it was the latter.
Dakota and Carter tried their best, but they didn't have the awareness Jarod had. Wyatt, Sam, Mark and I constantly shifted and moved and defended. Both Aimee and Nate were strictly on defense for the time being. Dakota and Carter were chasing around their center mids. We just had to get through the half.
They played around with ball up near midfield, and I hurriedly pushed my defense up, catching a forward offsides and a kick going the other way. Yet again, it trickled back down to us. A center mid passed to a wing, who passed to a forward running to the corner. Mark followed him, and I moved up to cover the rushing center mid looking for a long shot. The wing turned and shot back out, glancing up, and kicking a long cross in front of the goal. Wyatt had dropped to cover the threat, heading the ball back out. An open forward that Dakota and Sam didn't communicate covering trapped the ball, taking a hasty but powerful shot. Derek made a safe dive, hitting the ball out towards Sam. Then, Sam got the ball and waited for pressure as he dribbled up the line past Aimee. He cleared out to Oliver, who couldn't run it down quite quick enough, and it was cleared back our way. A center mid took control as Dakota stayed in from of him, players rushing back to our side. And I knew by that sly grin on his face they were planning to score.
They passed cautiously, reserved at the top. I made sure to stay on my toes, covering the cutters and stopping the attempts to get through a hole in my defense. They found none, but kept pressing forward, strategically flattening us out into a line instead of a diamond. We had to pick up marks now, sending things into a frenzy of passes to one corner and back out and around to the other corner, looking for the right opportunity. I was proud of my defense, continuing to hold them off until we could get the ball back and send it out. But it seemed like it'd never end until they got their goal.
A wing ended up with ball and a slim opportunity to cross, but it hit off Mark and went out of bounds. They went to set up for a corner kick, not calling out a play this time. We set ourselves up in the usual formation. I was a little nervous, but they couldn't score. They can't. I can't let them, not if we won't have Jarod back for the half. They'll kill us.
Too soon, the kicker held up his arm. But, the players didn't rush as expected. No, a defender rushed up short as a hard grounder was kicked to him, sending us into a quick confused panic, and the defender delivered a power shot.
It wasn't quite on target. Mark was in the right position to get some contact with it, sending it back out along with the majority of the confusion. A center mid then cut to it, Dakota trailing, and the goal to his disposal. Out of nowhere, which is what usually happened on corner kicks, Derek had a wild dive. It wasn't quite a dive though, more of a shocked stumble that was enough to hit it out and enough to put him on the ground, scrambling to get back up.
But let's rewind. As the center mid shot, I had dropped back to cover the forward that was waiting to crash the back side. I kept him in the corner of my eye as the shot was deflected. Yet, the forward sprung into action with a wide open goal steps away.
I don't think I've ever moved my feet so quick. In the moment, there was only one way I was getting to that ball in time enough to put some sort of stop to it. And instinctively, I did a panicked slide tackle.
So listen: slide tackles are dangerous. And if you don't do it the one, right, legal way (not from the back, one leg, going for the ball), then you can seriously injure the other player and/or get a red card. No questions asked. They're illegal in younger leagues. Obviously many would regard this as a bad idea, considering I've never done a slide tackle before, but by the grace of god I did it absolutely fine. I still wonder how the hell that happened.
But, with little experience, I didn't execute it quite right. I hit my hip hard off the ground, and my uniform shorts were pulled up so my entire right leg dragged across the bone-dry dirt and grass. Something sharp, more than likely a rock, scraped from my knee up to mid thigh. I wasn't thinking about any of that though, I was in some sort of mind-limbo as the forward shot with as much force possible. It actually hit off my leg before tripping him up onto the ground, but the ball then hit hard off the lower portion of the crossbar, looking like a sure fire goal. The ball bounced hard right off the line, and Derek had picked himself up enough to fling his body over it before it could do some other funky bounce and go in.
It took a second or two before anyone knew what had happened. Breathing heavily, propped up on my elbows, sprawled forward over my outstretched leg, I caught sight of Derek's face. He was staring wide-eyed, straight ahead, petrified and huffing himself. After cheering erupted, he finally relaxed his head and smiled a little. He looked to me and said cheerfully, "That was close."
The forward picked himself up off of me as Derek got up too, jogging out to the 18 to punt it. I picked myself up, smiling at first, but the lightest rub of my shorts against my thigh stung painfully and wiped the smile off my face. I tried to keep walking, but the sting continued all the way down to my knee and even made bending it hurt. I continued to go forward though, I couldn't stop now. Derek was walking back as the offense was finally getting some momentum, Bridesdale completely heartbroken. He looked up before passing me, slightly smiling, but then wide eyed as he caught sight of my leg. He stopped before me. "God Maddy, you need out."
"I'm fine." I went to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm.
"No, you need out."
"I'm okay."
"You're bleeding. If you get blood on your shorts they won't let you play and that needs cleaned as soon as possible."
"What? Why?" I glanced down, surprised to find the majority of the side of my leg pink and torn up with small spots of blood, but even more startled by the thin, eight inch cut extending from my knee to thigh. It wasn't dangerously deep, but it was already starting to bleed.
"Health concern. Hold your shorts away from your leg. Coach already has a sub waiting for you."
"But I can -"
He grabbed my shoulder with a squishy gloved hand and shook me. "Maddy, you need out. Don't injure yourself more by staying in." A whistle cut our conversation short as Zane called me off, sending Wyatt back to defense. Derek let his hand slip off my shoulder as I started to walk out.
I didn't try jogging as I held my shorts away from my thigh best as possible. One, because it hurt, and two, I couldn't afford to get blood on them and stay out. I got to the sideline, roughly sitting on the ground next to the medicine kit.
"That looks bad." Jarod was sitting with his bad ankle out, ice pack on it. He ran a hand through his short hair, sweat making it stick up.
"It's okay." Now that I quit moving, it didn't hurt as much. Coach Reed came up next to me, starting to unpack a variety of things. Cleaning wipes, band aids, and gauze. Taking a look at my leg, she could tell it was painful. It didn't feel like it hurt sitting down, but tons and tons of light scratches in dirt went up the whole length of my exposed leg and the cut was bleeding, dripping down the side of my knee where it was deepest. She handed me a gauze to wipe up the blood.
Coach Reed then took out a cleaning wipe, looking at me before doing anything. "Okay. This is going to sting a lot, but the scrapes have to be disinfected. We need to get the dirt out so there isn't a risk of infection. I can wash the cut with water."
"Do it," I said without hesitation."Whatever needs done."
"That's our trooper." She smiled at me. Her hand hovered above the lightest spot, my upper thigh. She looked at me again. "Ready?"
"Ready."
Holy shit. Oh my god it stings. Shit shit shit this hurts this hurts this hurts. Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch, OUCH DEAR LORD, ah, it stings it stings, ah -
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I squeaked out. "Let's just get it over with."
She looked at me, concerned, but I covered my head with my arms and bit down on the neck of my jersey. The sting shot through me again as she moved down to the worse areas, avoiding the cut for the time being. It felt like thousands of tiny needles were poking at my thigh, over and over until it eventually subsided and moved elsewhere. It was constant, continuous pain. A small noise escaped from me as she wiped over a deeper scratch, but I told her keep going. Another shocking stab of pain, another small yelp. I hurriedly told her again, "Keep going, keep going."
"Just say stop if you want me to." She wiped down towards my knee, and I bit harder on the jersey. It stung so, so much. It was starting to feel like hand sanitizer in a cut, making my brain feel fuzzy. I thought about just telling her stop, to call it quits. But if I was going in again, I wouldn't be able to bear the pain if she didn't get the whole thing done in one go. Plus, there was still the cut.
She spoke up once more, right on cue. "I'm going to wipe the cut now, okay?"
"Okay." I was on the verge of tears, but I willed myself to be as strong as possible. She blotted the pooled up blood with gauze once more, causing slight discomfort. I heard a water bottle get cracked open.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She exhaled heavily. "Okay." All at once, water rushed down the side of my leg, over the cut, washing it out, and I couldn't help a quiet and throaty scream. Gah, it HURT. It hurt, it hurt, oh it hurt so much. She wiped as quickly as possible with a clean gauze, moving up to the less deep part but it still stung like nothing else. It felt like straight up salt in the wound, and every wipe felt like it was being rubbed in. I let out another quick, raspy, muffled scream as she did one last pour and wipe. I was shuddering, blinking back tears, ears ringing. It's over, it's over, you're okay Maddy, you're alive. You need to play, you need to get back in.
"Done," Coach hastily said. "We're done."
I wiped my watery eyes with my jersey, calming down enough to stop shuddering and take a few deep breaths. I heard the familiar rip of a band aid as it was gently set on the deep part of my cut. it was a huge band aid, so she only used one more on the cut until it faded into a scratch. The worst of it was well covered, and the skin on my thigh still pink. I turned to Jarod and joked quietly, "You can turn around now."
He turned back to me, still worried. "Jesus, it sounded like you were dying."
I stood up. "I'm fine." It still stung, but not nearly as bad as before. I walked around, I jogged, I took a drink, and went up to Coach Dublin. "Ready, Coach."
She stopped her surveying of the field to look at me, examining the wound. "You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
She smiled. "Excellent. Get on the line and call Sam out; move Zane to his spot and move Wyatt back up to stopper. Go get 'em."
I didn't waste time to get on the midfield line, waiting to sub in. I bounced around a little to keep my leg moving, bending it and just getting the blood through my veins again and shake off the rest of the stinging. I watched for the time being as the ball went back and forth. This field had a clock, so I could see there were just ten minutes left in the game. It was going to swing one way or the other in these ten minutes, it was going to get frantic and physical. Two minutes later the ball went out of bounds and I eagerly jogged out, ignoring the constant stinging. It was a throw in down near our half, and I picked up an open man. The ball was thrown and I beat the forward to the ball, doing a quick turn and the best left-footed clear I could muster. It was enough to get to Carter, gaining some confidence without Jarod and taking control in the midfield.
It stayed on their end for a short while, and it constantly felt like we would have another goal any minute. Everyone was on the edge of their seats as the ball crossed over and back over the goal. Finally, their goalie caught a cross to stop the monotony. He waited for his players to get up before punting. Dakota was too timid to try and head it, and the ball came back my way. I trapped it and took some time, looking for a good pass. Oliver pointed to the right corner, player on his back and ready to run. I took the signal and cleared it down the line. My leg stung sharply from the effort once more, but I walked it off.
Oliver ran straight to it, trapping the ball in no time and passing it back to the middle. Their defense was in a flat line, an obvious attempt to catch us offsides, but both Oliver and Kendall were too smart to step past them. Kendall, in the middle, kept the ball long enough to attract the defenders before passing back out to Oliver. Wide open, he leisurely ran up and went for the chip shot. It was a high arc, Oliver watching after it hopefully.
It was a shot you held your breath for, thinking it might be one that slips between the goalie and the crossbar at just the right angle, but maybe it wasn't high enough or too low, you couldn't tell. As soon as I saw the goalie jump too late and too far forward, I turned around to walk back as the whistle sounded and the crowd cheered once again. That felt good. Another goal felt amazingly good, especially with five minutes left. Back to my starting position, I watched Bridesdale do the set up of shame and Jarod come in for Dakota. Their coach was busy yelling like a maniac.
The game started again, and they set off in a dead sprint towards us. Still, we got the ball back and headed the other way. Well, Jarod did. He had fire in his eyes and a ravenous hunger for a goal, you could sense it.
As a result, the offense tried to feed him the ball as much as possible. He did get a shot off, but their goalie had hit it out for a corner kick. Everyone set up and ran the usual play, not being able to get anything on the ball as their goalie caught it. Things were going dandy for the time being: 2-0, three minutes left, and ball on their half. All was well.
Alas, good things don't last forever.
After the punt, I guess the midfield didn't find a reason to hustle back on either side. Aimee, Carter, Jarod, and Zane were all at a stroll, but suddenly Bridesdale jumped to life. They won the ball off the punt with ease and charged, six on four.
I backed up as they approached, trying to keep an eye on everyone as the midfield tried to track back. Bridesdale was gunning for us though. Close to the goal again, I jumped from the center mid to the forward cutting diagonally. The ball came to him, in very capable shooting range, but I stayed on his back like my life depended on it. He was desperate though. Desperate and frustrated, enough claw the injured side of my leg and turn to shoot.
I stumbled as the stinging pain took over again, causing my breath to catch in my throat. I didn't know what happened, but somehow they were setting up for a corner kick. My leg was still stinging painfully from his cheap scratch. It couldn't faze me, however. Less than two minutes to defend, to get the shut out.
Setting myself up beside Derek as usual, he growled, "You should've stayed out."
"No way. Not against them."
"Your health is more important than this game, you know."
"I do, but I can't go anywhere now."
The ball was kicked and I picked up the rushing forward coming towards the middle. The ball was under shot, however. I chased out after it alongside a mid, throwing my foot out. It went at a level directly parallel to Derek's chest, resulting in a nearly effortless catch. He didn't look proud of himself or happy in the slightest when he punted; on the contrary, he looked absolutely pissed. And a Bridesdale player trying to provoke him didn't help.
The clearly upset forward roughly bumped Derek's shoulder from behind, continuing to walk. Derek called after him, "Watch it."
The forward turned back around threateningly, now walking towards him. "Watch what you say to me."
Both of them were in each other's faces now, same height, same build. "Why should I? Throw a punch and you're done." Derek paused, smug smile beginning to spread. "Not like it matters at this point, I suppose."
The forward spat back, "Pretentious asshole."
"Conceited. I won't add another pathetic noun, conceited should be enough to describe you." The forward then balled a fist and went straight for the nose. However, with those impeccable reflexes, Derek actually caught his fist in his gloved hand before it could cause any harm to him, causing a small step back. It was like an action movie climax. Time slowed to a stop as the forward, now containing absolute rage, listened to his smart-ass response. "Better luck next time."
The forward lost it at that point, swinging wildly with his left and Derek ducking by a hair. Players rushed to pull the Bridesdale forward away from Derek as he continually backed up, dodging other poorly thrown punches. Finally a ref stepped in between the two of them, Bridesdale players eventually getting their player under control. I don't know what he said to both of them, but Derek was looking extremely tranquil. I mean, he didn't do anything. In fact I was rather proud of him for not retaliating. What could he be in trouble for?
The ref pulled out a yellow card, gestured it to the Bridesdale player, then turned to Derek. And his tranquil expression began to dissolve into pure anger as the ref gave him a yellow card too.
"What?!" he shouted, alongside a mixture of cheers and boos from the sideline. The ref didn't answer him, but gestured for each team to send subs. Coach Dublin, who was extremely caught off guard, sent Nate in. "You're kidding me," Derek said, throwing his arms up and turning away. "This is absolutely ridiculous." The ref didn't say anything, just scribbled away in his little book, walking back to midfield.
He turned back around. I caught his eye and he nodded, wanting me to walk over as Nate approached.
"What?" I asked.
"Listen, just because there's two minutes left doesn't mean they can't catch up."
Nate cut in as Derek ripped off his gloves. "I know -"
"Both of you, hush. Nate, whatever you do, try and catch every shot. Don't hit it out of bounds for a corner kick unless you 100% need to. If they do get a corner kick, take orders from Maddy because they'll probably box you in. Let her head it out, you understand? Don't go for the catch, it'd be too much of a risk. Maddy," he handed the gloves to Nate, "I already know you'll protect the goal like your life depends on it. Deflections are their best bet for a goal. Don't give them any chip shots either, those are the hardest to block." He pulled the jersey over his head. "Take charge, and..." he hesitated as he handed the jersey to Nate. "Be careful."
"I will, go." I pushed him away and he jogged out to the sideline, angrily snatching up his water bottle and taking a drink. Calm down, Maddy. He was suspended for two games before and you've handled that. Relax. It'll be okay.
The whistle sounded, startling me for the moment. The ref asked for two players, and everyone waited for me to walk up. The other forward stood across from me as the ref said, "Drop ball, don't touch it until it hits the ground." I set my feet up, ready to go. When both of us were still, he let it fall and I kicked it first, sending it towards midfield. Mark had picked up my spot and got the ball under control, looking for someone to pass to. No apparent options, he booted it down the middle.
There was a short spell of battling for possession, but Bridesdale was as determined as ever for some sort of solace. The clock ticking down, they charged my defense once again. Our mid fielders were more awake after that, but not a match for Bridesdale's sudden speed. The center mid was weaving in and out through Wyatt and Jarod and Carter, playing mind games and looking for the golden opportunity. No chip shots, no chip shots I remembered.
There were only 30 seconds left, and a forward made a short cut across the top of the 18. I followed him as he got the pass, glancing back to find me. I bodied up, trying to get a jab at it. In one swift motion the forward cut back middle, slyly entangling a foot to trip me. My right foot stuck, sending my scratched-up leg and forgotten, hurt hip straight into dirt and irritating grass and hidden pebbles. I gasped out of pain, closing my eyes shut and rolling on my back. Oh god, it hurts, it's hurting, but I have to get up, I have to -
Tweet. Goal, Bridesdale. Score, Ashcrest 2, Bridesdale 1.
My eyes shot open, and the Bridesdale crowd erupted into cheers for no reason, since there were four seconds left and the whistle had just sounded. I closed my eyes once more, but still, Bridesdale celebrated like they had won.
"You good?" I opened them again to see Wyatt standing over me. "Maddy?"
I let out an exhausted moan instead of words, but I tried to pick myself up anyway. Someone else came running up beside him, crouching next to me with a hand on my arm. "Are you okay?"
I recognized the voice as Derek's but I couldn't speak for the moment. I nodded, eventually mustering up enough gusto to say, "Help me up." He and Wyatt both hurriedly grabbed both my arms and pulled me up. I walked slowly to the handshake line, but Wyatt and Derek pulled me another way. "Wait, I have to go shake hands."
Derek responded sharply, "No."
We headed straight to the water bottles, and I roughly sat back down with my leg outstretched, the constant buzz of pain still ringing in my ears. The rest of the team eventually came over, Coach Reed rushing to take a look at the reopened wound. Thankfully the worst of the cut was covered up, but dirt clung to the pink, irritated skin. It needed wiped down again, I knew it, just punch me unconscious and get it over with.
She fished for things as Coach Dublin gave the usual short and sweet speech. The team was in high spirits, heading right off to their parents. I figured maybe Aimee would stick around, but I guess not.
"I'm assuming you know what we have to do." Coach Reed asked. Derek was still gathering things.
"Yep."
I watched her come closer with that damn sanitation wipe, pressing it back on the little scrapes and scratches. I couldn't hold back another airy yelp, covering my head with my arms and biting the jersey collar again. I tried to talk myself through it with a string of "oh god oh god oh god", even though I was already shuddering.
"Wait, stop -"
"No," I interrupted. "Keep going."
She got closer to the shallow and exposed part of the cut, dusted with dirt too. The wipe stung terribly as she went over it, and I couldn't help a short, empty scream but I wasn't going to cry. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
"Coach -"
"NO." With slight hesitation, she quickly wiped some of the dirtier scratched parts. I nearly drew blood from my bottom lip in an attempt to not cry. But finally, finally after being on the edge of my breaking point for a solid minute, she stopped wiping.
"Done." I kept my head hidden as I heard the kit click shut. "We're proud of you for sticking it out, Maddy." Voice still strained, I squeaked out a thank you. "Can you stand?"
"I-I just need a minute. I'll be fine."
"Okay. Do you want me to stay?"
"No, no, go ahead. I'll be up in a minute."
"Alright. Good job today, both of you."
"Thank you." Derek answered her for me.
"And that yellow card was ridiculous, don't worry about it. Just don't get another."
"I won't." I heard her walk off, Derek quietly shuffling things behind me. The pain was staring to subside, enough for me to take my head out from my arms. My bag, packed, was dropped down beside me as Derek took a seat on the ground. Voice slightly strained, he asked "Why didn't you tell her to stop?"
"It would've been harder to do it in sections than get it all done in one shot. It's not bad anyway."
"Not bad? It sounded like you were being tortured!" His voice had risen, and I snapped up to meet his worried look. He sighed, "Sorry. That was just excruciating to hear." His eyes drifted off in thought and his head dropped in shame. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry."
"How?"
"I didn't stop the shot that caused you to slide tackle. Or do anything when that lowlife scratched you again. And got a yellow card over something stupid and put too much pressure on you. And I couldn't do anything to stop it. I'm sorry Maddy." He kept his face covered up with his hands, and I didn't know what to say. It wasn't his fault, but the way he put it made it sound like it was.
"Sweetie, how's your leg?" I looked up to find Mom and Hannah staring down on me. Hannah caught sight of it and cringed.
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm fine. I just need some rest." I tried to pick myself up, but was having too much trouble until Derek grabbed my hand and my bag for me. Mom saw it herself and gasped.
"Oh no. You are not playing tonight."
"What?!" I yelled. "Mom, I have to. It's the championship."
"Not unless that gets significantly better. Maddy, the entire side looks like a tic-tac-toe board and that cut is nasty."
"Fine, fine. Let's just get to the car."
I held out a hand for my bag, but Derek waved me off. "I'll take it for you."
I sheepishly responded. "Okay. Thanks."
"No problem."
There was a moment of silence as the four of us walked back across the field. Eventually, Hannah spoke up.
"So Derek! Yellow card, huh?"
He laughed lightly. "Not the first."
"I can't believe you got one. I don't even know what you did, no one knew what you did."
"I don't know either, I didn't think dodging punches was a cardable offense." He paused. "Next they'll start carding you for not having your socks pulled up high enough."
Hannah and I laughed. "You both played a heck of a game though."
Both of us said thanks at the same time, getting light laughs from the three of us. Hannah stole a glance at me, wiggling her eyebrows. "What time's the championship?" she asked.
"Not until five."
"Wait..." I started. "We're in the finals." Snapping my head up in realization, I looked at Derek. "We're actually in the finals."
His eyes seemed to brighten. "Yes, yes we are. Glad you jumped on the bandwagon." He laughed at me, and I lightly shoved him.
"Shut up."
"You'll be okay though? I mean, your leg?"
I looked down at it as we got to the car. It was already starting to look and feel better. The bandages were still on the not-quite-healed cut, but the rest of my leg looked like it was healing up all the shallow scratches just fine. "I think so. It looks better." Hannah got in the front seat, closing the door along with Mom. With a chance for privacy, I added, "I'm sorry about that goal."
He stared at me in pure disbelief. "Are you crazy? I don't care about the goal, I care about you. I mean your leg. Wait, uh, both." He did his little half-smile out of nervousness, handing me my bag. "Um, see you later."
"Bye."
He walked away and I opened the door to the car, tossing my bag on the other seat and carefully climbing in. Immediately, Mom said, "I approve."
"Approve?"
"Of Derek. What a polite young man, carrying your bag for you."
"I'm glad you approve then."
"I'm sure once we get back home Dad will be itching to meet him. And Hadley and Drew too."
My heart skipped a beat. "What?"
"You...you didn't think he would ever...meet any of your family?"
"What, no!"
Hannah laughed. "Where's the logic in that?"
"I don't know, does Dad even know?"
"I don't think so."
"Can't you tell him Mom?"
"Here, we'll talk about this later. First, you need rest before tonight if you're playing on that leg."
"Okay. I was probably going to hang out with friends later..."
"That's fine, after you take a breather. We'll get a good lunch, and then you can run off. Don't wear yourself out though," she paused. "You're going to need all the energy you can get."
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In one swift motion, I ripped the band aid off, letting out only a short gasp. Quickly folding it up in a tissue, I tossed it into the trash can and set my fingers on the next one. You can do it Maddy. All at once. One shot. It'll be over in a flash. Okay, one, two, three -
"Ah!"
"What?! Ah!" I shook my fists at my leg, trying not to shout swears as the stinging started.
Wyatt, still leaning backwards from dodging my arm, stated, "You almost hit me tearing that thing off."
"Sorry, sorry." The pain started to dissipate as I wrapped the other bandage up and threw it away. Wyatt handed me two clean ones. "Thanks."
"Not a problem, just don't kill me putting them on." He walked out of the bathroom, back into the living area. I was sitting on the vanity with my injured leg propped up in Wyatt's room, most of everyone else in the living area. I bit my lip as I wiped over my leg with a warm, wet, washcloth, gently scrubbing off some of the gray band aid sticky residue that was left behind. I leaned back with my hands on my forehead, letting it dry before I would try and put the other two band aids on. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath of relief. Last game. Championship. Back home with a trophy. A break from soccer until regular season games. School.
I heard laughter come from the living area, Oliver's voice rising above the rest. "It didn't happen like that you liar."
"Of course not! I didn't do it justice, I understand. It happened like this." I had no idea what sort of move or pose Wyatt might've been reenacting, but it was getting laughs from everyone else. Aimee, Dakota, Jarod, Heather, Kendall, Sam, and Carter were lounging around while Oliver and Wyatt bickered back and forth. After a power nap I had gone to Aimee's room to sit and chat for a little bit until Wyatt invited her over. She took me along, and Coach Reed had suggested I change the bandages I had on, which is how I ended up here. The door to Reed's room was tightly shut, probably to keep us to as much of a dull roar as possble.
I wasn't sure where Derek might've been because I didn't bother to bring my phone, but someone knocked a moment later. I hopped down from the countertop and went to get it, painfully hitting my bruised hip off a corner as I opened the door. My face contorted into one of pain and a smile as I met Derek's gaze, hands in sweatpants pockets per usual. He raised an eyebrow. "Hi?"
"Yeah, hi." I said, strained, moving aside to let him in. "Just hit my hip."
"Oh. How's your leg?"
I shut the door, setting a hand on my injured hip to maybe make it feel better. "Not bad. Much better actually."
"Stop making out you two!" Sam called, causing Derek to roll his eyes and continue inside.
I followed behind him, taking a seat on the floor next to Heather. Jarod was a shy distance away, and I could see the two continually sneaking glances at each other. I smiled at the shyness as Derek replied, "Shut it." He laid down on the floor, stretching his arms out and yawning. His shirt did that thing that happens to boys where it comes up a little and you can see the faint outline of their hips with the sweatpants at just the right low-ish place and god Maddy stop yourself this instant. Ah.
I wasn't into boys like this before, but Aimee's constant talk had still found its way into my mind and rooted itself in place. And now it was feeding on my vulnerability all because I had arguably the hottest boy around. I stole another guilty glance at him all stretched out, accidentally traveling up to meet his eye. He winked with a devilish half-smile, causing me to blush.
"Aw, Derek, you can't be tired. We have Riverview to play." Dakota, sitting on the couch armrest, nudged his shoulder with her foot.
"Get that out of my face. And I'm not tired."
"What, my foot?" She nudged him more until he grabbed it and pushed it back.
"Yes, your foot. And I'm not tired, I'm completely fine. You're forgetting I barely do anything."
The group laughed, Carter then directing conversation elsewhere. I listened in, but didn't have much to offer since they were talking about a new video game console coming out. Dakota and Aimee were rather involved, and the only ones not involved were Heather, Jarod, Derek, and I. I took the chance to sneak glances at Jarod and Heather, doing a series of subtle hands motions and mouthing words. Jarod then nodded, getting up and stretching. "I'm going downstairs for food."
"I'll come too." Heather sprung up and the two started to walk out as Sam called out a goodbye. I smiled. They were so cute.
As soon as the door shut, Aimee asked, "Are they a thing yet?"
"I don't think so," Oliver said, hands together in thought. "Jarod hasn't said anything."
"Would he though?" Wyatt added.
"Would Heather?" Carter asked.
"No," Dakota said. "Both of them are too shy."
"Ugh. They're so adorable," Aimee whined. "It's frustrating."
"Wyatt, how'd you do it then? Maybe you can give him some pointers."
Wyatt glanced at Aimee, smiling the slightest. "I don't know. I'm not shy." He started to get mischievous grin as he turned his head. "How about you, Derek?"
He continued to stare at the ceiling. "What?"
"Why don't you tell us how you and Maddy became a thing?"
He paused. "Why?"
"So you can give Jarod tips on how to get Heather."
"Well, the first thing he'd have to do is injure her." Laughter went up, and I kicked his foot. "Next, accidentally develop a liking towards her. Then, now this is important, make sure a giant disaster happens that causes her to hate him with a burning passion." More laughter. "Finally lock them in a barn and tell them to fix it." Everyone chuckled once more.
"No, no," I said. "He's got to be an asshole that's secretly a hopeless romantic." I smirked at him as he laughed along lightly.
"Call me hopeless, but not romantic."
"Mayday Parade references? You are a big softie." Wyatt laughed.
"What? No."
"That's a song title."
"Whatever. What's the weather supposed to be like later today?"
The conversation was directed elsewhere once again. I couldn't help smiling as I thought back to him head butting me. He truly was a titanium exterior filled with marshmallow fluff. And he was quite an asshole before this whole thing, but it didn't really matter now, since he's finally opened up to me. He was such an asshole, come to think of it. Always being authoritative, egotistical, negative, cynical, in general just a jerk to me during games. Yet he was such a softie under it all. Likes writing, speaks French, cared deeply about people, but I loved that. I loved the odd combination. I loved both sides, I wouldn't want one without the other. I just loved what he did, I loved the reputation he's built to cover up that caring side.
I loved the façade.
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phew! lot of updating recently, considerably long updates too. sorry it hasn't been particularly eventful, but these next chapters...oh boy. brace yerselves. :P and thanks for all the votes and comments you guys give, they mean a lot to me. ^.^ happy reading! AND BRACE YOURSELF!
ALLIE (IN ALL CAPS FOR EXCITEMENT)