The Games We Play

Lacey paced her apartment. It was the day of her third game against Southwestern and she was nervous. Jonathan wasn’t with her. After what happened at the arena the day before, she figured he understood that she needed space. But at the same time, she wanted him to be there with her. Still, she couldn’t forgive what he had done to Patrick.

Lacey was about to grab her soccer shoes and head out the door when Derek marched right in and sat himself down on the couch.

“Um, hi?” she said, more like a question than a greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see how you were coping with things,” he said simply. “I know you were really upset yesterday. Have you calmed down a bit?”

“Sort of,” she mumbled. “I guess, anyway. I’m still pissed off at Patrick for provoking Jon, and I’m mad at Jon for punching Patrick. I don’t know. I just want to go to my game and forget that any of this happened.”

“Ignoring it won’t make it go away,” Derek pointed out. “But yeah, you should probably head over to the game. Your team is going to need you. No distractions. Right, Captain?”

Lacey gave Derek a small smile. “Right, Captain.”

Lacey left the apartment, Derek still inside getting comfortable with the pull-out couch and television, and made the short walk to her campus. She checked the clock on her phone just as she made it to the field. Twelve missed calls from Jonathan, ten texts from him, and seven from Patrick. And then one from her youngest sister Hannah, wishing her good luck at her game.

“Hey Lace,” Andrea waved as she joined them on the field for active stretches. “Where’s Jonathan?”

Lacey didn’t answer. She just frowned, looked down at the grass and stretched out her hamstrings.

She and Farah exchanged looks. “Don’t tell me you guys broke up.”

“We didn’t break up,” Lacey clarified, letting a sigh escape her lips. “But things are getting kind of complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Becky asked. “When you guys were here a few weeks ago during Game Six against MSU, you were fine.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Lacey muttered, moving to stretch her calves. “I just want to get this game done and over with.”

“You know,” Farah said, her hands on her hips. “If something’s bothering you this much, it’s not going to help anyone by bottling it up. I know that it’s your way, taking your aggression out by playing, but someday you’re going to need to tell someone what’s wrong. And you know what, Jonathan’s the best thing that’s happened to you in such a long time. None of us want you to get hurt again.”

“She’s right,” Andrea agreed. “We just want you to be happy, Lace. God knows you deserve it.”

Lacey sent a weak smile to her teammates. “You guys are amazing, you know that?”

Becky grinned, ear to ear. “We know,” she went over to Lacey and draped her arms around her shoulders. “Now, come on. We’ve got a game to win.”

The Loyola girls got into position, Lacey taking her usual place at centre defense. Andrea and Farah lined up and Becky shook out her legs briefly as the referee set up the game ball on the centre line. Southwestern won the coin toss, so they had first ball.

The girls from Texas were hard to beat--they were a team that Loyola had struggles with even during the regular season. They were strong, they were big, and they didn’t always play fair. Lacey described them to Jonathan as the Dan Carcillos and Sean Averys of college soccer.

The SW forward passed the ball to the girl on her right wing and they were off. Andrea tried to charge at her to take the ball away, but she checked her with her shoulder and pushed past. Becky got the ball off of her though and finessed her way past her and another forward to lob the ball over their heads to Farah.

Farah took possession of the ball and dribbled it forward, passing it off to Katelyn on the far side. Katelyn took a shot, but the goalie grabbed the ball in midair and drop kicked it back to the centre of the field. Lacey knew this wasn’t going to be an easy game.

The first half expired, the score still 0-0. Lacey hadn’t been playing well at all--three sloppy turnovers and a yellow card for pushing made her want to rip her hair out. Lacey grabbed her Gatorade bottle and took a drink from it. Her coach walked over to her and pulled her aside.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked tentatively. “Whatever it is, it’s making you lose your focus.”

“It’s just a stupid guy problem,” she sighed. “It’s a really long story and I don’t want to get into this now.”

“Sort it out,” was all he had to say. “Or else it might cost us this game.”

Sort it out, she thought to herself. The same advice I gave to Jonathan and Patrick.

The official blew the whistle, signaling the start of the second half. Lacey went out and told herself to calm down. Focus. Relax. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The whistle went off and the second half began. It was just as fast-paced as the first half, with Loyola gaining possession of the ball and getting a great scoring chance right off the bat. The ball was picked off Andrea at the last minute though and one of the SW forwards took the ball and went full speed ahead with it right in Lacey’s direction.

Lacey anticipated her though and as the forward dribbled the ball a little too far, she swiped the ball off of her and ran up the side of the field.

But then something happened.

One second Lacey was running with the ball, and the next, she was in the air.

She was flat on her back, unmoving, in shock.

“Holy shit, Lacey, are you okay?” Becky ran over looking panicked.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to sit up. Her arm flew up to her left shoulder as a pain shot through it. Once she noticed her shoulder was in so much pain, she realized that the same amount of pain, if not more, was coming from her left ankle. She tried to move it, but the second it even twitched, she let out a blood curdling scream.

“Don’t move,” Becky ordered. “That stupid Southwestern bitch slide-tackled you with her cleats up and you went flying.”

“Here, take off her shoe,” the coach ordered as he scurried onto the field. Andrea helped untie Lacey’s shoe and gently pulled it off as Farah checked on her shoulder.

“Looks like it’s dislocated,” Farah muttered. “Okay, Lace, sit up. This is going to hurt. Okay?”

Lacey winced. “Okay.”

And in one deft movement, Farah grabbed her arm and popped it back into its socket. Lacey screamed again.

“Mother fucker--”

“I warned you,” Farah said with a slight smile, trying her best to lighten the mood. Once Lacey got a look at her ankle though, all the colour drained from her face

It had already swollen up to the size of a tennis ball and was turning blue and purple.

“It’s definitely broken,” Andrea announced, biting her lip. “We need to get the medics here now.”

“This can’t be happening,” Lacey muttered, tears coming to her eyes as she covered her face with her right hand. “This cannot be happening. Not now...”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Becky mumbled, rubbing her shoulders gently, trying not to jostle the left one. “You’ll be okay. And so will we. We’ll win this game for you, Lace. Promise.”

The medics arrived onto the field with a stretcher and lifted Lacey onto it. The Loyola crowd rose to their feet and clapped for her. Lacey just squeezed her eyes shut and wanted nothing more than for the world to just fade away as the roar of the crowd was drowned out by the blaring of sirens.