Hey guys! Sorry this took such a long time to get up. I've been sooo busy, it's crazy, this was my first free Saturday since, like, August, and therefore my first free writing time basically. Today was beautiful though because I just wrote all afternoon. And baked. With pumpkin. Yes like a basic white girl. Judge me. I'll just eat my delicious pumpkin chocolate chip bars. Anyway, enough distraction. I'm sorry this took forever; hopefully I get over the business and extreme writer's block and continue this story at a more regular pace. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter, and please - comment!! I love to know what you guys think.
Gracias! <3 vb123321
Chapter Four
“Look who’s here,” Ray said to me in a low voice as I joined him on the field, jerking his head towards the goal.
I didn’t even take a glance. “It’s Davis, isn’t it?”
“How’d you know?”
Dropping my bag on the ground, I bent down to take out my cleats. “Mal told me he’s joining our team.”
“Mal told you that?” Ray blinked. “How did she – but, wait, how did your dad even let this happen? Did he tell you about it?”
I yanked my laces tight. “What do you think?”
“Judging by the homicidal look on your face,” he said, looking down at me warily, “I would say you had no idea.”
Standing, I stretched my arms over my head, scowling as I watched Davis dribble a ball between his feet as he talked casually with some seniors. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t stick around. He’s used to playing in Europe with stuck-up rich kids, he won’t handle our game.”
Ray shook his head. “I’m with you, man, of course, but you can’t deny he’s good.”
Giving him a deadly look, I joined the group of my teammates preparing to start practice with the usual laps. A couple of them eyed the threatening grey skies overhead, mumbling about the possibility of lightning to miss practice. They shut up when I approached them, instead exchanging significant looks; I wasn’t surprised when Joey Walters was the first to speak.
“See our newest member, Coop?”
“Sure did,” I replied casually, stealing his ball from him and bouncing it between my feet.
“Did your dad tell you he was joining?” Joey eyed me like he thought I was going to bite his head off. Was my face really that homicidal? I thought I’d been doing a good job controlling myself.
“No, he didn’t mention it,” I said, nudging his ball back to him as I glanced over my shoulder. My dad was making his way across the field after setting up a few cones, stopping to talk to Davis and the seniors. “Maybe Davis is just here for the day, to see where he’s at.”
“That’s probably it,” said George Harrison, looking relieved.
I took a deep breath as we walked to the goal line to start our laps. “And if he is on this team for real,” I said calmly, my eyes set on Davis as he came over to us, “then I hope he does have talent, because it’ll make our team better.”
There. That was my pre-captain speech for the day. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to do it again.
My feet pounded into the cracked grass, keeping rhythm with Ray, who kept swiping sweat off his face. I let mine drip into my eyes, my shorts sticking to my legs in the intense humidity that practically radiated from the storm clouds overhead. The air was so thick and sticky that it was more difficult to breathe than usual.
“Bro,” panted Ray by my side, “this is just the warm up. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.”
“I’m not even running that hard,” I snapped, shaking sandy hair away from my face. “At least I’m not showing off like them,” jerking my head to Davis and a few seniors who had barely squeaked their way onto the varsity team. They ran a few meters ahead of the pack.
Ray muttered something that I didn’t catch, but I didn’t ask for clarification; I had a pretty good feeling that it wasn’t complimentary.
After wrapping up the laps, Coach whistled us into the center of the field, where we stood in a rough semicircle around him, all of us dripping in sweat already. The wind was starting to pick up, whipping my hair in all directions. My dad removed the whistle from his mouth and put his hands on his hips.
“You know I’m not usually the type to play ‘go around in a circle and say something about yourself’ games,” he said. “All of you know each other and have played together, so there’s no need for introductions. But today I want to introduce you to a new member of any soccer team at this school – Jackson Davis.”
I could feel my dad looking at me, so I forced myself to nod politely as Davis lifted his hand with a lazy smirk. He looked pretty pleased with himself, seemingly not noticing that most of the guys were eying him with skepticism.
“All right.” My dad clapped his hands together. “Stretch out quickly before we get started. I want to get the practice in before this storm comes.”
So I began one of the worst practices of my life. After swigging some water quickly and stretching out, we practiced basic passing and shooting drills for a while, fighting the humidity and the looming storm. Since it was the beginning of the season, Coach was a stickler for endurance, so most of the drills included hard running.
The first raindrops sprinkled the dry ground, staining it a muddy brown as our cleats kicked up grass and dirt. Even though the rain began to intensify, my dad called us in for another drill, explaining that we would be partnered up with another teammate to practice defensive and offensive positions.
And, yes, my partner was Jackson Davis.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Ray said to me quietly, thumping me on the back.
“I never let anyone get to me,” I responded before walking away from him to join Davis in the line. “Not during soccer.”
Two by two, the guys went off with the ball, one playing defense while the other tried to score on our goalie. The rain drizzled down from the clouds, soaking our clothes, but I had long since given up trying to keep my face dry. I stood in line next to Davis, watching my teammates, and prepared myself for his oncoming attempt at conversation.
Sure enough, barely a minute passed before he said, “So, Cooper, were you surprised I went out for the team this year?”
“Yeah, a little,” I said easily, cringing as the goalie slipped on damp grass and missed the ball by a mile.
Davis raised a critical eyebrow. “This goalie sucks.”
I had thought the same thing, but I glared at him anyway. “That’s your teammate now, Davis. You can’t talk about him like that.”
“I just meant he’s not as good as your brother was,” he said mildly, shrugging as we moved up in the line. “But then, Jack was some sort of legend, wasn’t he? I’ve never even met him but I feel like I know everything about him. He’s all the girls ever talked about.”
“Yeah, Jack’s a great goalie.” I ignored the smirk that accompanied his last comment. “But we’ll find someone just as good.”
“We better.” Davis spiked up his dark hair, sending water droplets flying everywhere, as the pair in front of us took their turn. “If we’re going to go for the championship this year, we’re gonna need one hell of a team. Better than last year, even,” and his eyes taunted me.
Clenching my jaw, I refused to respond and instead clapped Joey Walters on the shoulder as he rejoined the line, saying, “Good job, bro.” Davis jogged down the field to get in his defensive position, and I sighed, muttering, “Here we go.” I trapped the soccer ball Coach kicked towards me between my feet and began to dribble towards the goal.
My cleats slid in the wet grass, my skin sticky from rain and sweat, and my hair dripped into my eyes so that my vision blurred. The weather conditions brought back memories of another game, one I didn’t like to think about.
“That’s it, Cooper,” called Davis as I approached him. “Bring it right to me.”
“Come and get it from me,” I said, teasing him by letting the ball slide in front of me a few feet before I trapped it neatly. He was practically on top of me, our feet dancing around each other as he struggled to gain possession of the ball. Rain splashed down my neck, drenching my clothes and skin.
“Doesn’t this remind you of something?” Davis taunted me as I fought my way down the field. He wove in front of me like he wasn’t even trying to get the ball from me. “I went to a couple of your games last year, Cooper. I wanted to see just how good you really were.”
“Yeah?” I slid around him, drawing near the goal. “And what’d you find out?”
“Well, it was that championship game, and I seem to recall something like…”
I was never sure how it happened, but somehow his foot hooked around my ankle, yanking me off balance. Windmilling slightly, I managed to land my foot on the ground, but the rain had created a dangerous mixture of wet grass and mud. Before I could stop myself, my feet slipped and sent me crashing to the ground in a splatter of mud and rainwater.
“Yeah, that’s about right,” commented Davis, staring down at me as he put his foot on top of the ball. “That’s how you looked right there at the end of the game.”
My fingers curled into fists. Shoving my hands against the mucky ground, I pushed myself to my feet, wiping mud off my mouth with my sopping sleeve. My chest was heaving, seething with anger, and I clung to my self-control by a string as I glowered through the heavy rain at Davis’ triumphant face.
“I would ask how it feels to lose,” he said, smirking, “but I guess you already know.”
The string snapped. Swearing, I shoved his chest, hard, sending him reeling backwards. He almost lost his footing in the mud but regained it in time, coming back at me with burning eyes as he slammed his hands against my shoulders in return. Staggering backwards, I clenched my fists, one step away from slugging him in the face. I would have, too, except my dad chose that moment to descend on the scene, pulling the two of us apart.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded, shaking my shoulder roughly as I tried to shrug him off. “One of you better start talking right now.”
Davis and I just stood there panting and glowering at each other as rain and sweat dripped down our faces. My dad snapped, “Danny, what happened?” but I just said violently, “Why don’t you ask him?”
“Both of you, start running, now.” Coach released our shoulders, his face like flint. “I said, now!”
Without a word, I spun away from the two of them and charged down the sideline, my feet sliding in mud as I ran. Behind me I heard my dad yelling at Davis to start his laps, what didn’t he understand about now, and I felt a flicker of satisfaction that was immediately swallowed by my desire to kill him.
For the next endless number of minutes, my feet flew through the mud and grass and rain as I circled the field, refusing to slow down even as my muscles burned because I could hear Davis behind me. A couple of the guys threw me sympathetic glances as they finished off the drill – Ray just pulled a wry expression – but I ignored them.
“Did I say practice was over for you?” I heard my dad say to Davis as he called the rest of the team in to dismiss them, and I smirked. Davis had a lot to learn about my dad as the coach; I hadn’t been stupid enough to stop running simply because the rest of the team was done.
For a split second, I was pleased with my dad’s attitude, but that quickly dissipated when finally practice was over for all of us and I made my way back towards the car with my bag. I was still seething from the talking-to Coach had given Davis and me, the usual spiel about being teammates and supporting each other and how he didn’t want to see that ever again.
He should’ve thought of that before he let Davis join the team.
Throwing my bags in the trunk, I sank into shotgun and waited for my dad to join me, dreading the car ride home. He came a few minutes later, getting in and starting the car without saying anything. It wasn’t until we’d pulled out of the school’s parking lot that he spoke.
“All right, so what was that?”
“What was what?”
“Daniel, do not get mouthy with me.”
Gritting my teeth, I stared at the swiping windshield wipers. “We just had a little disagreement, okay?”
His grey eyes swept skeptically over me. “How on earth did a simple drill like that end in a disagreement? He’s supposed to get the ball away from you, that’s the point.”
“I know that,” I said irritably, toweling my face off with my soaked sleeve so that I didn’t have to look at him. “It wasn’t about the drill.”
“What, then?” he asked, and when I didn’t reply, he said impatiently, “If there’s some sort of problem, don’t you think you should let me know? You boys are going to be playing together for the next few months, and I don’t want anything to mess up this team.”
I stared at the passing houses, wishing we’d get to our street. “Well, maybe you should’ve asked if I had a problem with him before you let him just walk onto the team. I don’t remember him at tryouts like the rest of us.”
My dad spun the wheel, rain splattering the windshield. “I already told you that he tried out separately. You weren’t there, but I was, and I think I know a good player when I see one. A potentially good player,” he added with a wry expression.
“Yeah, he’s not really that –”
“I have my doubts about both of you, actually,” he interrupted, giving me a look.
“What?” I sputtered indignantly. “You’ve watched me play for, like, ten years!”
The car turned into our driveway, but my dad kept the engine running. He fixed me with serious grey eyes. “Good players are players I can rely on. If you two do have some sort of problem, I would have expected you to tell me about it. You better work out whatever you have against Davis, because he’s here to stay.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled, pulling the door handle.
“It’s not whatever, Daniel.” My dad caught my arm as I tried to leave. “Being on varsity since freshman year doesn’t mean anything. You’ve got to prove yourself just like every other boy on the team has to.”
“Just make sure Davis has to, too,” I shot back, shrugging him off and getting out of the car. The rain fell on my head as I grabbed my bag from the trunk and slung it over my shoulder, trekking across the driveway away from the house.
My dad stepped out of the car. “Where are you headed?”
“Mal’s,” I said without looking back at him. “To do that chemistry.”
And to make sure I didn’t have to be in the same place as him until I calmed down.
My cleats squelching with water and caked with mud, I made my way around to the back of her house, letting myself into her mudroom. Stomping off my feet, I dropped my bag and bent down to remove my cleats, water from my hair running into my eyes.
“Dan?” she called from somewhere in the house. “That you?”
“No, it’s a robber,” I said sarcastically, straightening as I walked into her kitchen. “I’m here to steal all your gold.”
“Good thing I’m broke.”
Mal appeared in the kitchen doorway, grinning, but the grin slid off her face as she took me in. She looked just as wet and muddy as I did, undoubtedly from a long cross-country run through the rain, but her brown eyes shone. I’d heard her gush about how much she loved running in the rain enough to know that, unlike me, she’d thoroughly enjoyed her practice.
“Well, you look awful,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Please stay there while I go grab you a towel. My mom will throw a fit if you get mud everywhere.”
“I don’t care,” I muttered, but Mallory paid no attention. She hurried out of the room and up the stairs, and a moment later I heard closet doors banging. Her footsteps on the stairs accompanied the sound of her singing some country song absent-mindedly before she slid back into the kitchen.
“Here’s your towel.”
She handed me a blue towel, and I took it, mumbling thanks as I began to dry my face and hair. Mal went to the fridge and pulled out two Gatorades, throwing one in my direction without looking to make sure I caught it – though of course I did. Perching herself on a stool at her kitchen’s bar, she eyed me critically.
“So from your suicidal look, I’d say practice sucked?”
“Suicidal?” I took a swig of Gatorade. “I’d say homicidal.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Her expression cleared. “I forgot Jackson started practice today. So how did that go?”
Blue Gatorade sloshed over the top of its bottle as I reflexively squeezed it too hard.
“Right.” Mal nodded, pushing wet brown hair out of her face. “I figured.”
“Delete his number from your phone,” I said shortly, hoisting myself up on a stool next to her. “I don’t want you texting him.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not my dad, Dan, we’ve been through this. You text girls I don’t like, I text boys you don’t like. It not each other’s business.”
“Wait, what girls don’t you like who I text?”
“Let me think – like, every single one of them? Those volleyball girls who wear too much makeup and wear super short skirts and Spandex all the time?”
I frowned in confusion. “What’s the matter with that? If they’re hot –”
Mallory shook her head. “And that’s where this conversation stops. That’s why I let you text whoever you want, and you should do the same for me.” She reached underneath the counter. “I know I put our chemistry here somewhere…”
“So…” I sipped Gatorade, still thinking through what she’d said. “Are you saying you think Davis is hot, then?”
“Daniel Cooper!” she sputtered, knocking her elbow on the countertop as she brought up our chemistry packets. “Why would you even say that?”
“Well, I text volleyball girls because I think they’re hot, according to you, so –”
“Oh my gosh, I’m allowed to text boys for other reasons than that!”
I nodded in satisfaction, extracting my chem packet. “Good. Just checking.”
Mal mumbled something about boys and stupidity, which I disregarded as I opened the packet and stared at the math problems gloomily. The numbers swam in front of my eyes; there was no way I could complete these by tomorrow, when they were due. Pulling my best puppy-dog expression and hoping the rain and mud made me look heart-wrenching, I turned to Mal.
“No,” she said, without looking up from her chem. “You can’t copy.”
And I just groaned.