The next morning, I wake to the soft sound of Mal shuffling around the room. "Morning, rookie," she says with a teasing grin, already dressed and lacing up her sneakers. The light streams through the curtain, and for a moment I forget where I am and last night feels like a fever dream— until the buzz of excitement kicks in.
I get ready as fast as I can, pulling on my training gear and double checking I have everything. Mal waits for me by the door, clearly used to the routine. We make our way to the bus, taking our time. I secretly start praying that Mallory picks up on what I'm putting down and sits with me on the bus.
She doesn't. She sits next to Rose and across from Lindsey and Emily Sonnet. I claim a seat in the front and sit by myself, accompanied by the soft roar of the bus and music through my AirPods. Mal meets back up with me when we get to the stadium for training.
When we step into the locker, I feel every eye on me. My heart skips a beat and I feel my face flush before someone calls out "The new kid's here!" It's Rose, of course. She quickly followed by Lindsey, swinging an arm over of shoulder and saying "Welcome, Maddy. Ready to work?"
The rest of the team gathers around, quickly introducing themselves with warm smiles and easy conversations. It's surreal, hearing names I've admired for years who are now teammates. As the chatter fold, Mal nudges me, "See? Everyone loves you already." I nod, feeling my nerves melt away.
Once everyone finishes introducing themselves, the energy in the locker room shifts. The chatter quiets as Emma Hayes walks in, her presence commanding attention without having to say a word. She greets us with a short, motivating speech about the importance of pushing ourselves, supporting each other, and what it means to represent the crest.
Before I know it, we're out on the field, basking in the morning sun spilling over the perfectly manicured glass. The air is crisp, and there's a buzz of adrenaline as everyone spreads out for warmups. I follow Mal's lead, keeping my head down and focusing on my movement. The drills start out simple. The drills start out simple— passing patterns, sprints, ball work—but even at this pace, I feel the intensity. Every touch, every pass is purposeful.
Rose jogs over during a break, lightly tapping my shoulder. "You're doing great," she says, taking a sip from a water bottle and putting it back. "Just keep your head in it, don't worry about impressing anyone. That'll come naturally." I nod, appreciating the encouragement. But I can't shake the anxiety boiling in me.
As we move to the scrimmage, I catch myself overthinking every touch. A sloppy pass here, a heavy touch there. It's not my best, and I know it. I glance at the coaches, wondering what they are thinking and catch a glance between Emma Hayes and the offensive coach. I want to throw up on the field and just go home.
"Hey," Mal calls out, catching my attention during a quick reset. "Relax, play your game. You got it." Her tone is calm but firm, and something about it cuts through the noise in my head. I take a deep breath and nod, grounding my myself.
When the game restarts, I focus on one thing: playing the way I know I can. This time, my passes connect. My movements feel a little sharper, and the game flows at a pace I can follow. When I play a perfect ball over the heads of the defense to set up a goal, I hear someone shout, "Nice one, rookie!" It's Lindsey and I can't help but smile, the praise giving me a jolt of confidence.
The session carries on, each drill pushing me harder than the last, but I find my rhythm. By the time we huddle at the end, my legs ache, and sweat drips from my face, but I feel happy. Exhausted, but yet, happy. Mal throws an arm around my shoulders as we walk off the field. "Told you you'd find your groove," she says with a grin.
•••
Back at the hotel, my exhaustion sets in. My legs feel like lead as I get off the bus, and all I want is a hot shower and to collapse in on a bed. Mal walks beside me, chatting easily about the training. "You did great today," she tells me, nudging me with her elbow. "Seriously, rookie, that assist. Seriously beautiful." I laugh, brushing off the compliment, but it means more than I can admit.
When we get to our room, I immediately drop my bag by the door and flop face-first onto the bed. Mal laughs as she kicks off her sneakers. "I feel like I should warn you, today was an easy day. Tomorrow's gonna be a lot worse."
I groan into my pillow. "You're joking, right?"
"Nope," she says cheerfully, digging through her bag. "Bust don't worry, you'll survive. Probably." She adds the last comment in with a wink.
After a quick shower, I pull on some sweats and collapse back onto the bed. Mal is already scrolling on her phone, her feet propped up on the desk chair. "So," she says after a few moments of silence, "what's the verdict? First day of camp—better, worse, or exactly how you expected?"
I think for a second "Honestly? It's harder than I thought but... I don't know. It's kind of amazing. Like, I know I didn't play perfectly, but just being out there felt right, you know?"
Mal nods, a small smile on her face. "Yeah, I get it. It's a lot, but once you settle in, it's worth every second." She pauses, then smirks. "And hey, atleast you didn't trip over your own feet like I did at my first camp."
That gets a laugh out of me and the tension I didn't realize I was still holding in starts to fade. As the night stretches on, we fall into an easy rhythm. Talking, laughing, and occasionally teasing each other. For the first time in a while, I feel safe.
YOU ARE READING
CHANGE- uswnt
Fanfictionnoun 1. the act or instance of making or becoming different. Madeline Reese was only 15 when the call up to the senior national team came, and would be a lie to say no one expected it.
