It makes you look badass now.
If Rosalie looked badass, Arden Dodge had to be killer.
Rosalie knew it was stupid of her to track Arden's social media, but it was what she did—with soccer captains across the nation, from other countries, across the world. Arden was no different, she told herself. Arden was her competition, in more ways than one. But she wasn't stupid enough to follow Arden on Instagram, or Twitter, or any of it. Arden just so happened to be her most frequent search on all of those sites, and it came as a mild surprise to anyone who happened to notice.
Rosalie skimmed over photos of Arden's Instagram feed for the thirtieth time in the past week. They were all curated—perfect—and they all had that sweet, plastic smile Rosalie remembered leaning over her in the rental car. She couldn't make that shit up, though, and it irritated Rosalie that Arden could tear her thumbnail through Rosalie's cheek with the same smile she used to culminate a following of thousands on social media alone.
Because Arden had a unique feature, and people romanticized it. Rosalie could understand now why Joanna never looked back on Arden. She'd loathe to learn that the scar she gave Arden made Arden beloved by thousands of nameless faces.
She sighed, a hand gripping her hair. She leant over her knees, phone still in hand. She nearly dropped it the instant she heard someone beside her saying, "Uh... why are you looking at pictures of her?"
Rosalie floundered with her phone before effectively shutting it off and pocketing it in her sweatpants. She looked up from the turf at her feet and found Juliana leaning over her, eyebrows up to her hairline.
"N-No reason," Rosalie said.
Juliana eyed her suspiciously as she tugged off her gloves. "Uh-huh, seems plausible." She chucked the gloves into her bag beside Rosalie and let out a shuddered breath. "God, we're inside and it's still freezing."
"You're lucky you get to run around to warm up," Rosalie muttered. She would much prefer that over sitting in the arena's cool atmosphere.
Juliana would be playing centerfield in place of Rosalie's usual position. Rosalie clasped her gloved hands in front of her mouth, mostly to cover the scar and secondly for warmth. She could feel her own teammates' eyes on her as they gathered out on the field for warm ups. Even players who weren't on the roster were required to warm up, but given Rosalie's current condition, she was confined by the bench.
As expected, Joanna didn't give two shits over warmups. She walked the field while everyone else strained their lungs over suicides, and Rosalie swore Joanna was doing it to taunt her. It made sense, but the prospect of Joanna doing it just for the hell of it pissed her off even more. Joanna was already sabotaging the entire team for the sake of staying under the radar.
The Bradshaw Knights were no longer content staying under the radar. They gave Adams the middle finger, and now they'd do the same to every team at Regionals.
Rosalie put her hands out in a "What the hell are you doing?" manner. Joanna was just standing there, arms crossed, staring off into space while her unlucky passing partner—Mia Elgin—threw her head back with a groan and went to fetch the soccer ball where Joanna let it fly straight past her. Joanna raised her shoulders in a comical shrug before cupping her hands over her mouth and shouting, "Oops!" at Rosalie.
"You're being ridiculous!" Ray shouted from the other end of their half of the field.
"I'm being the perfect amount of ridic'," Joanna said.
Rosalie put her head in her hand as she caught wind of Juliana saying, "Never say that again." Of course Joanna challenged her, which only ended in a passing fight when Ray kicked the ball straight for Joanna's neck. Joanna punched it to the side and the speed, momentum, and force send it rocketing into Alyssa's ponytail.
Rosalie slapped her hands over her mouth as Alyssa staggered, recovered, and turned sharply in Joanna's direction. Mia was standing there with the soccer ball in her hands, mouth ajar. Some of the girls were giggling as Alyssa stepped up to the pass her partner shot in her direction. She popped the soccer ball up and, with one hand, chucked it at Joanna.
Joanna ducked to the side and the ball struck at Mia. Mia screamed, flinging her ball up to block the attack. Alyssa's throw was deflected by it, only to have it rocketing at Joanna's back. It smacked her dead center between the shoulders and she stumbled forward with a curse.
Coach Maguire marched out onto the field, waving her hands about. A fight was bound to break out now that Joanna had murder written all over her expression. Mia was still hiding behind the soccer ball when Rosalie was accompanied by the unofficial team manager taking a seat beside her on the bench.
Lennie perched his hands on the edge of the bench and leant forward as he said, "Are practices always like this?"
"With Joanna... usually," Rosalie sighed. She rubbed at her brow as Coach Maguire caught the ball Joanna tossed at her, grudgingly. And then, Coach was pointing sharply in Rosalie and Lennie's direction, her eyes stone cold and dead set on Joanna.
"Did you two have a fight on the bus?" Lennie asked.
Rosalie glanced suspiciously at him. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and said, "I wouldn't... call it a fight."
"It sounded like a fight."
"Blunt as per usual," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "We just... don't see eye-to-eye right now. At this point, I think you two would get along better since you both seem to be on the same page."
"Same page as what, not being murdered?" Lennie said, and before Rosalie could laugh from the absurdity of it, Lennie said, "I can understand you fighting me on that, but you shouldn't be—I don't want to tell you how to run your relationship with Joanna, but... you aren't exactly giving her a shot at feeling safe."
"I never pegged you as being a a fan of Joanna."
"Make no mistake, I'm not," Lennie said. Rosalie rolled her eyes and leant back against the bench, her hands clasping the edge behind her. She looked away as he went on. "You make it sound like there are sides to be on. I'm not on any sides here."
"Well, that's reassuring," she said sarcastically. "That's so pacifistic of you, Switzerland."
"I don't recall you ever having that level of sass."
She laughed and got to her feet. She brushed her hands off as if ridding herself of this discussion, and Lennie's eyes trailed after her as she called over her shoulder, "I don't need your opinion, Pittmen." She took a low bow and left, shaking her head. She could feel Lennie's high-and-mighty judgement from the far end of the benches as she made her way to where Joanna had shoved her duffle under the seat.
Joanna was just arriving at the bench when Rosalie came to terms with the fact that she never needed nor did she care to have Lennie's unsolicited opinion. Hearing it, though, reminded her of one thing: She still respected the guy, in small, minuscule, insignificant ways. It was decided that this was normal, considering he was dating her best friend. Lennie had somehow, inexplicably, become an integral part of the team—they wouldn't get rid of him unless Coach Maguire deemed it so. And, by the look of relief on Maguire's face when Lennie would take up the responsibility of the clipboard, told Rosalie that that day wouldn't be any time soon.
Joanna took her seat and, as Rosalie walked up, she tipped onto her side, leaning farther and farther before at last collapsing horizontally on the bench.
"This seat's taken," Joanna said.
Rosalie sighed and took the seat beside Joanna's head. "Oh, look: This one isn't," she said.
Joanna pushed half-hearted against Rosalie's leg and said, "You don't get to find loopholes."
Straight to the point, she thought. She should have figured the Sisterhood would always be a topic of conversation. "I haven't found one nor am I looking for them," she said. "It's pretty clear that I have to play by her rules."
"You aren't listening to her."
"If she really wanted to challenge me, she'd challenge me on the field. So that's what I'm doing," Rosalie said. Joanna sat up with a scowl, and Rosalie held her breath for a moment, fully aware that Joanna was leaning towards her, her hands perched on the bench between them. She swallowed hard and said, "I'm challenging her in what matters most to us. It's worked once—we beat Drew at this game. Drew wouldn't have respected us if we hadn't won State against them. I'll do the same with Arden."
"Mendoza's a nutcase—"
"So is Arden," Rosalie said.
Joanna stared at her. Her brow furrowed, a vague look of confusion that Rosalie interpreted instead as worry.
Rosalie took a deep breath and said, "We can't beat her in court, but we can beat her on the field."
"You're too optimistic," Joanna said, leaning back. She pulled a foot up onto the bench. "Maybe you're the nutcase."
Rosalie resisted the urge to smile. "Are we okay?"
Joanna swayed for a moment, lips pursed, eyes scanning the field. "We're... on the same side," she decided, eyeing Rosalie sharply, her face still turned to the field.
Rosalie was both thrilled and disappointed by Joanna's decision. Rosalie glanced over in Lennie's direction. Lennie was scowling at them with that neutral expression that put Ray's Resting Bitch Face to shame. It seems there are sides to be on, she thought, mentally flipping him off. She probably looked smug as Hell.
"You told Coach to fill Jade in."
"Because I knew you'd act like this," Rosalie said, turning back. Joanna rolled her eyes. "We've spent an entire season together. I know what you're like, Joanna."
"Consequences of being predictable," Joanna said, to which Rosalie thought, Half of the time, you're anything but predictable. Joanna shoved her in the arm and said, "Go back to your brother-in-law, or whatever."
Rosalie laughed and glanced down the line to where Lennie was talking to Coach Maguire. She looked back at Joanna, who had already tipped onto her other side, her feet flat on the turf. Rosalie got up then and stepped away. If she pushed any harder, she was sure that Joanna would accuse her of being clinging. Or, at the very least, annoying. She'd rather not have that on her record.
***
Their hotel was nothing short of what Rosalie expected from a Bradshaw sporting event. Continental breakfast in the morning, a swimming pool in the evening, and stairs to the roof that tantalized the hearts of curious soccer girls wanting to break the rules but being too terrified of the consequences to try. The Bradshaw girls were on the top floor and, therefore, were closest to the peak of the stairwell where Brynn Fox led Rosalie by the hand, racing down the hall and urging her to be quiet, as if Rosalie was the one making noise.
Before pushing open the stairwell door, she turned back and whispered, "Don't tell Coach about this."
"That depends on what it is," Rosalie said, raising her eyebrow.
Brynn huffed at her and said, pouting, "Rosalie, come on."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I won't tattle unless someone gets hurt."
"No one's getting hurt," Brynn promised.
She nudged her hip against the door and together, they crossed the threshold to the stairwell where voices created an echo chamber all the way to the first floor, several flights below them. When Rosalie stepped in, she found Luanna there at the base of the final flight of stairs, and she went to join her alongside Jordan and Brynn. They all looked up to the peak of the stairs, where Erin had the emergency rooftop exit door cracked open.
Rosalie could hear the wind whistling in, sucking the door shut with a sturdy boom. Rosalie looked down at Brynn, who was vibrating with excitement. "It's not locked?"
"Joanna picked the lock," Brynn said.
As if on cue, the door opened behind Erin. Erin squeaked and scurried down a few steps from the platform, only to turn and find Joanna propping the door wide open. "There. But anyone who's playing tomorrow can't come—"
Joanna paused from kicking the wooden wedge under the door. Her eyes were on Rosalie, who watched, arms crossed, more than a little shocked by the sight of Joanna instigating rooftop access.
Erin and Jordan groaned. "You promised—!" Jordan whined.
Joanna blinked. Her eyes shifted to Jordan and back again.
Rosalie cleared her throat. "Guess that means I can go up," she said, and took the first few steps to the roof. Luanna chased after her and stuck her tongue out at Jordan on the way up. Jordan half-heartedly kicked her foot at Lu.
At the landing, Rosalie slowed, stepping up in front of Joanna. Joanna's expression was tight, twisted, and grimacing. Her eyes flitted anywhere other than Rosalie's face, where Rosalie knew she couldn't keep her attention off of the scar.
Lu passed behind her and onto the roof where Brynn was already leaping and skipping to the ledge. Rosalie lingered at the threshold, leaning her back against the frame as she said, "I forget that you know how to pick locks."
Joanna rolled her eyes. "Not exactly like cracking a safe, Mason."
"Still impressive, though."
"Oh really, Miss Goody Two-Shoes?" she teased.
Rosalie looked down with a barely hidden smile on her lips. Once upon a time, she would have been horrified. Three months ago, in fact.
Joanna shifted. Rosalie looked up to catch sight of Joanna reaching behind her and pulling out a slim, flat pouch that vaguely resembled a wallet. It was too narrow to be one, though, and had a black leather casing. She didn't look at Rosalie as she unraveled the trifold pouch and revealed a set of metal handles that looked like nail cleaners.
"I've been keeping 'em on me. Lately."
Rosalie looked up from the lock picking set. Joanna had her eyes down, her ponytail swept over one shoulder. Joanna folded up the set, cleared her throat, and put it away. "Any reason?"
"Yeah," she said, and that was that.
Joanna started down the steps, leaving Rosalie at the rooftop threshold, baffled. She stared after Joanna until Brynn called her name from the edge of the roof, perched on the brick ledge. Rosalie left the stairwell then, along with whatever implication Joanna just gave her.