"Coach, she's a girl," the entire soccer team whines, folding their arms across their chests. I do the same, and glare at them.
"What, you haven't heard of a girl playing soccer before?" I ask, cocking my head to the side. Coach Anderson clasps his hand on my shoulder. I can see sweat from the heat hiding behind the hair in his mustache.
"Come on guys, show her some respect. No one ever said this was a boys' soccer team," Coach Anderson explains. Troy steps forward and says, "Yeah, but ever since the beginning of this team it's been only boys. You can't break tradition Coach." I shrug and lace up my tennis shoes, ready to get on the field.
"Just treat me like one of the guys, ok?" I say. Coach Anderson blows his whistle, and we all jog to the track and do laps. They're really easy for me since I've done them a lot but I see the boys panting only after 2 laps. In enough time I jog past them and I'm done with my laps. I wait 10 minutes for them to finish, and they bend over from exhaustion. I snort.
"That's tiring to y'all? That was only 5 laps. Y'all sure lucky I joined this team." I cackle. All the boys give me death stares and I shrug them off. I'm not here to win their affection, I'm here to play some soccer.
Sadly, all the time it took for the boys to run 5 laps took up all of practice time, and before I knew it I was in the locker room, trying to look for a place I could dress privately. But every corner I turned all I saw were boys stripping down and changing into their regular clothing. I exited the locker room and waited for all of them to leave before entering. I want privacy. That, and the smell reeks in their of sweaty boys.
Once I'm sure all the boys have left, I enter the locker room once again and start undressing. I peel off the bright yellow tank top I was wearing and examine it. Pit stains. I grimace, that shirt is definitely going into the wash tonight. I adjust the strap of my sports bra on my shoulders to find a place that's comfortable, then take off my boy shorts. When I turn around I see Troy, staring wide eyed and his mouth making an o.
"Aah!" I scream and grab the closest thing to cover myself up, which is my boy shorts. Troy is caught off guard when I catch him staring at me.
"Uh, it's not what it looks like!" He stutters. "What are you even doing here?"
"I like my privacy. And you're invading it."
"Relax, its not like you're naked," Troy scoffs. He does have a point. Still, I don't feel comfortable showing the player boy what bra size I'm wearing. I slowly put my boy shorts down and dig out my regular clothes to change. Troy just stands there, his arm resting against the locker.
"Can I help you?" I spat. He moved closer, that enraging smirk playing his lips once again.
"You know, for a tomboy, you look a lot more feminine," he says, lowering his voice and moving closer until he's towering over me. I gulp. I do not want to do this. Letting Troy even get a foot in front of me is bursting my personal space bubble. I push him back and he collided with a locker, denting it and falling to the ground.
"Get away from me you perv," I hiss, throwing on my jacket even though it's like a million degrees outside and slipping on some denim shorts. I then walk out of the locker room with a shiver down my spine. How long was Troy standing there? He could have taken a picture and posted it on Google for all I know. Now I know to change in the girls' bathroom, not the locker room.
