California Dreaming

Behind That Baby Face.

Come on, Heath. You can do this.

I look at the line of girls sitting on the sideline, adjusting their shin guards and lacing up their cleans. Some of them are stretching, their flexed thigh and calf muscles rivaling those of Greek gods. I take a deep breath before opening the gate and walking over to them, my heart racing.

I expect everyone to stare at me, to feel their eyes picking me apart like birds feasting on a carcass. But they don't even glance at me. I recognize the look in their eyes; they only care about one thing, and it's not the scrawny newcomer who just walked past them.

I set my belongings down on the grass and kneel down to fiddle with my laces just to appear busy.

"Are you a freshman?"

I look up and see a girl with freckles and pointed eyebrows standing over me.

"No," I say. "I'm a junior."

She tilts her head slightly. "I've never seen you before."

"I just moved her from New Jersey," I say, "with my mom."

She purses her lips to the side. "What position do you play?"

For some reason, I lie. "Defender."

She blinks at me. "Not right back, I hope."

I shake my head, slowly. "No."

"Good," she says, her eyes scanning me as though she is sizing me up. She smirks and begins to turn around. "Break a leg out there."

Once she's gone, I exhale and lean back on my elbows, wondering why the girl made me so nervous. Her eyebrows made her appear stern, but none of her physical features established her as threatening. Her musculature wasn't exceptionally impressive compared to my own, and she couldn't have been any taller than me.

"Alright, ladies! Line up!"

I look towards the center of the pitch and see a middle-aged women in a visor staring at us. I take a quick look around before standing and lining up alongside the other girls.

"I see a few newcomers, so I'll introduce myself before we start. I'm Coach Foudy. I've been coaching this team for the last ten years. When I first started, the program was - well, the program sucked, to be honest with you. But I've managed to mold it into one of the best in the country, and I didn't do it by cutting my players any slack. I want you guys to know what your signing up for; being on this team isn't always easy."

The sound of a gate opening draws everyone's attention to the sidelines. I turn and see Alex approaching the center of the pitch, her eyes directed at the grass in front of her. It's only when she reaches the end of the line that she finally raises her gaze and casts a timid glance at the rest of us.

"Alex," says Coach Foudy. "So nice of you to decide to join us."

I see Alex swallow before she answers. "Sorry, Coach."

Her voice is quiet. It almost sounds like she's . . . scared.

The girl standing next to me leans over to whisper something to the girl on the other side of her.