Gone

I watched the players run around the field with narrowed eyes, observing carefully to find anything they did that we could improve upon. I watched Liam the most critically, trying to find some kind of a flaw in the way he darted around the field, the way he shot the ball toward the net, the way he called out to his teammates for them to pass it to him or vice versa.

But I couldn’t find anything wrong. He was perfect. And it pissed me the fuck off.

“Alright, everyone, huddle!” I screamed, jogging toward the center of the field. Once all the players were gathered, I started my end-of-practice speech. “Guys, fantastic practice today. I think we’re going to do really well once the games start, and I have confidence we can make it to the championships this year.”

The various players on the team clapped with enthusiasm, and I fed off their energies, feeling my face break out into an excited smile. “Only a few things: Carter, try to look a little more before you pass. A couple of times, the ball almost got intercepted between you and your destination, and I don’t want that to happen in the game. Angie, work on your ball control a little more. Liam found an opening because you fumbled a little bit, and there are players better than Liam in this league.”

I felt his dark eyes bore into me as I finished giving a couple of the players friendly pointers. “Alright, guys, that’s it for this week! You can have tomorrow off, and we’ll meet back here after school on Monday. Have a great weekend.”

Everyone broke into conversations as they made their ways back to the locker rooms in the school, while I journeyed over to the sidelines to grab my blue plastic water bottle and red and black soccer ball. Part of me wanted desperately to play some more, since my practice with the team was minimal, as I basically played the part of coach. But I knew I would just be dribbling the ball by myself and shooting toward an empty goal, which would do nothing to improve my skills.

“I’m sorry,” that irritatingly familiar British accent started from behind me, “but did I do something to offend you?”

I turned toward the puppy dog face and grimaced. “Oh, I don’t know, did you?” My voice was so bitingly sarcastic that he hesitated before making a response.

“I didn’t know you’d take me stealing the ball from you so personally,” he responded in a defensive tone. “It’s just a part of playing the game, you know. And, frankly, I think you deserved to be knocked down a peg. You’re a fantastic player, but you’re not quite as good as you think you are.”

Ugh. I just wanted to smash his face in and ruin all those pretty features that he definitely spent hours admiring in the mirror. “Don’t lecture me on what I think of myself,” I hissed. “You have no idea what I’m really like while I play, and you don’t know what the other players are like in this league. So don’t come over here and feel all high and mighty because you’re from England and think you can do things better. Just shut up before I kick you off the team.”

“You can’t kick me off the team because you refuse to get along with me,” Liam argued. I started to walk away from him, but he just followed, probably to fulfill some sick need to have the last word. “And if you think I don’t know what you play like, play me right now.”

“What?” I cocked an eyebrow at him and rolled my eyes, accusing him of being crazy without having to say a word.

“You heard me. Let’s have a scrimmage, right now. It’ll settle this whole thing. If I score a goal against you, you have to acknowledge that you’re not the best soccer player on the planet, and if you score a goal against me, I’ll stop trying to prove your thoughts wrong, and we can stop arguing like children.”

I really thought about it. He had a point, that the less arguing did, the more cohesive our team would feel. The other kids on the team shouldn’t have to deal with a couple of seniors arguing about something that went down the first practice of the season.

But I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He wasn’t the leader of the team, and he shouldn’t have tried to act like it. So I shook my head and said, “I know how good I am, and I don’t need to score a goal against a pompous British kid to prove it.”

My feet started to move forward again, putting a good bit of distance between us. “Just admit it!” he called after me, his accent almost disappearing with the loud volume his voice reached. “You’re scared of me!”

“You wish!” I called back. I knew he was just trying to get me to cave and play a game against him, but I didn’t want to crush his ego. If he knew that he wasn’t as good of a player as me, then it was possible he’d stop playing as well as he did, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d be an essential player on the team. His footwork was professional, his passing skills were impeccable, and his kicks flew so quickly into goals that most goalies in the league wouldn’t even know the ball was coming toward them.

Liam, thankfully, gave up on his pursuit, and I was able to walk to the locker room in peace. Inside was deserted, since the girls had already gotten their stuff and left. Water vapor hung in the air, making it somewhat difficult to breathe, left over from the few players who showered after practice so they could go directly from practice to their jobs without being sweaty and smelly.

But since I was just going home, I went to my locker and yanked out my gym bag before slamming it shut behind me. The sound reverberated off the tile walls, gradually getting softer every time, as I started out the door and toward my car.

Butterflies filled my stomach as I thought about the party the following day. I had no idea who else would be attending, whether Manny would drink, or whether I would drink. I knew that I had to wait to make my decision until I figured out what kind of party it was going to be for Manny.

On one hand, it could have been the type of Manny party where she goes to dance and have fun, and on those occasions, she drank a bunch. She rarely got drunk, really, but she did drink. But on the other hand, it could have been a predatory party, where her main objective was to score a guy, and that meant that she would stay completely sober. She’d hold a drink in her hand to make it look like she was drinking, but anyone who watched her carefully would know that she never took a sip.

If she ended up drinking, then I knew that I was designated driver. If I drank, then she was designated driver, which meant we’d take her mom’s car instead of mine. It was how we’d always operated.

After getting to my car and starting it, I pulled onto the main road that housed my high school, and my mind wandered to whether Liam would be at the party and what I’d do if he was. Part of me felt that I would just turn around and walk right out, but that might have been a bit immature. Immature was not the image I wanted to portray at a party, where there could possibly have been hot guys that weren’t Liam. So I probably would have to suck it up and ignore him completely.

For a second, I thought I should have asked him if he’d heard about it, but that could have backfired horribly.

So time would just have to tell.