Bittersweet (Jenna Ortega)

chapter eleven.

SATURDAY

Maise's POV

"The rain is set in for today, guys." Coach announces, watching the field become wetter and sloppier with the constant rainfall. "You know what that means."

"Mud fight!" Robin exclaims with a dopey smile.

Coach stares blankly at her. "You imbecile. It means this is the perfect opportunity for you to push attacks."

"Do I get to tackle the shit out of people?"

"Don't you fucking cuss at me, child!"

"But- Coach, that's not fair."

"Life's not fair. Suck it up."

I chuckle to myself and leave Robin and coach to go at it. Sitting down on the bench, I tighten the laces on my cleats. I don't want a repeat of what happened last year, where an incident left a rational fear of loose laces, and a girl who made me pay her medical bills. I suppose that was fair, seeing as my shoe broke her nose.

"What'd you do to Ortega?"

I frown at Keli. "Nothing. I haven't spoken to her once today."

"Well, you must've done something. She looks like she swallowed a sour lemon, and she keeps staring at you."

Why does she assume I have something to do with it?

I meet Jenna's dark eyes across the room, but she doesn't look sour, she looks upset. Heart ripped out of her chest type of sad.

"I didn't do anything." I tell her. "She's probably just overwhelmed about the game, along with everyone else."

"Maybe you should talk to her."

"Now I know you've gone insane. I'm not her friend, Keli. She's not my concern."

"Looks like she wants to talk to you."

I heave out a sigh.

"Kels, all I'm focused on right now is the game."

"When did you become so apathetic." She scoffs and storms off.

What's her deal? If she likes Jenna that much, why doesn't she just go over there and become best buddies with her. Why has it become my issue to console her?

—

It's halftime already with our team being up five points. The rain made it easier for us to slide tackle and Jenna had managed to take a few girls out, giving us many openings to score.

"Don't let the numbers get to your heads," Coach says sternly as we huddle in a circle, shivering and jogging on the spot to stay warm from the rain. "You're in the lead, however, that's not an invitation to celebrate early. The games not over yet. You still have a half hour left. Now get out there and score us another five points or better yet, ten."

Once separating with a dorky sequence of high fives, everyone repositions, and the referee blows his whistle.

The countdown starts.

Fifteen minutes later, we started losing. The opposing team had examined our plays during the first half, and strengthened their defence, closed their gaps. Which left us panicked. Because of coach's push for attack, our defence was weak. And before we knew it, our five-point lead had become a tie.

Three minutes remain on the clock, locked down to a tie. Everything comes down to this moment and despite how nerve racking it is, I'm confident we'll manage to score a winning goal. Especially since the ball is soaring down the field, all thanks to Liv.