Faking It

Chapter 21: Clearly The Best Ellerby Tutor

Text from: Jake Morris-Whittaker, 6:38 am

Ellie's Daily Reminder 16/180: One word. Focus.
On what's important
Like your scholarship

Shade much??

No shade. Only truth 😇

~*~

Early the next morning, when I couldn't fall back asleep after Gyeong-Ja's morning run alarm, my scrolling of William's Instagram—way more boring and far fewer posts than his brother—was interrupted by a knock at the door. I glanced up at the time—still too early for Gyeong-Ja to be back. The knocking intensified.

"All right, all right," I grumbled, rolling out of bed and trudging to the door.

Theo greeted me with a grin, decked out in practice clothes, and threw his soccer ball at me. I caught it with a yelp of surprise.

"Morning, sunshine." He shouldered his way into my room. "Get dressed. It's time for soccer tutoring with the handsomest Ellerby brother."

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be up here." I hastily checked the hallway to be sure no one had seen him before I closed the door.

Theo flopped back on my bed. "Do you really think something as silly as a school rule would keep me out of the girls' dorms?"

"Gross." I threw the ball at him. "Get your lecherous self out of my bed."

He jerked upright to catch it just before it smacked him in the head. "Then hurry up. You need a solid hour of drills before class starts if you want to get back on the starting roster."

When I opened my mouth to protest, he threw the ball back at me. "Tick tock, Emdubs. Or did you not read the athletic performance clause that says you need to be a starter for at least 75% of the season to keep your scholarship?"

I shoved the ball back at him and ripped open the closet. "How do you even know that?"

"You're not the only one here on a sports scholarship."

I frowned and dug out some workout clothes. "I thought your family was made of money. Why do you need a sports scholarship?"

"They are, but they're cheap bastards. My scholarship is one of the few reasons they let me play soccer rather than something more 'socially acceptable' like tennis or golf."

Still frowning, I closed the bathroom door to change. I didn't like the way Theo's words had sparked something in my chest—something that felt unnervingly like a crack opening in the wall I'd put up against him. He and I weren't supposed to have anything in common. He wasn't supposed to understand what it was like to have parents who would've fainted with joy if their daughter had been less into soccer and more into tennis or golf. The country club sports. Ones that encouraged networking with the elite and didn't cause as many skinned knees and bruised shins.

"Is it really 75%?" I asked as I reentered, tying my hair back.

"It is." Theo hopped to his feet. "Which means you have to make it back to starter ASAP. Your instincts are top notch, and you have a really good sense for positioning and reading plays, but some of your technical skills aren't where they should be. That's what set you back against Hargrove. The good news is, what you're missing is all very teachable. So grab a ball and let's get a move on."

His words settled like a weight on my shoulders and I shivered. I tried to do the mental math about the number of games in our season and what would constitute 75%, which only added to my panic as I followed Theo down to the empty common room and out to the soccer pitch. I tried to shake my worry off as we strode past the dew sparkling on the grass in the early morning light. If Theo's assessment was correct, more practice was exactly what I needed. I just hoped it would be enough. With another shiver, I pulled my sweatshirt tighter against the autumn bite in the air.