The coaches daughter

Just a girl

My father pulls up in a parking spot quite close to the school. Everyone was doing their daily things not even caring about us.

My father looks quite like the scary coach anyone would expect. Baldy head, piercing brown eyes, sharp jawline, tan skin, well built that his muscles pop out and he is really tall.

It is just a dominant Gene that I had to get my mothers shortness, her brown hair and her easy-going face shape. I got my brown eyes, tan skin and my traits from my father.

I come back to reality when my father slams the driver's side door.

I quickly jump out as well as I couldn't touch the ground like my father can.

He walks over to me placing a hand on my shoulder before saying, "remember right after school on the oval."

I nodded in his direction and responded, "gotcha."

"Off you go then," he nudges me forwards as I continue walking on my own.

As I walk through the crowd, some gave me stares I couldn't tell what kind but honestly I didn't really care it was adequately the, 'I don't know this chick' stare.

I follow all the signs leading to the resource office where I was told I can get my timetable.

When I walk in there were a few kids but not many. Once it was my turn, I introduced myself with a smile getting a smile in return and also a class schedule.

I walk out the doors again into the hall. It is a bugger that this school doesn't have lockers except for the gym.

The bell suddenly rang as I look down to see my first class it maths with I am surprisingly good at.

When I enter the class, I go unnoticed for a few people but then again a few people had their eyes on me full of Curiosity.

When the math teacher saw me, she shushed the class to silence as she says, "we have a new student would you like to introduce yourself."

I cleared my throat nodding going closer towards the middle and facing the class.

"Hello everyone, my name is Ashley Peterson, I am 17, and my hobby is soccer." When I finish everyone seems to be looking at me weirdly for some reason, and I just had to ask, "what?"

The teaches seems to answer first, "I'm sorry Ashley but the soccer players in this school have been losing for a few seasons now, and it just brings back terrible memories."

"They've lost their marbles," a kid shouts in the back row.

"Jason, last warning!" The teacher shouts back in a tone full of authority.

"Terrible memories?" I ask.

This time a girl in the front row spoke up. "Yeah. They only started losing when the team vice-captain Cody brown betrayed them with another team even though he was with us the reason was that he wanted to be captain or that's what we're told."

What a Whiner!

"That's enough class," the teacher claps. "Ashley you can seat at the back next to the window."

I nodded my head and sat at the back, a girl was in front of me but to my right was a spare desk. But I didn't mind, the view was all I really needed.

I look out the window to see a few classes playing PE that interested me more than maths.

The bell finally rang for home time and out of this whole day I made zero real friends. I sat with people at lunch, I hung out with people in class but I didn't get that friend vibe coming off them they were just a classmate to me.

I had a bit of trouble trying to zip up my bag, but when I started heading to the front door, I remembered about the meeting, and I am already a few minutes late.

I rush near the oval to see my father looking annoyed and a little angry. The players have begun to show a bit of fear in their expressions,

I rush over to him to see him look at me as well as well as all the other guys but that was just it, guys, they were all guys.

I look at my father with questioning eyes to see him giving me a wink.

The other ten guys still stared at me until my father announced, "you wanted to know who your eleventh player is well here she is."

Everyone erupted into comments.

"She looks so weak."

"We are so close to regionals."

But the one comment that seemed to sadden and anger me at the same time. Is, "She's a girl."

I was about to go all out, but my father beats me to it, "she may be a girl, but she is also my daughter who can properly kick balls straight passed all of you."

They all went into fits of laughter. "She wishes she can do that," a guy steps closer.

He has that jock kind of face the one every cheerleader would die to go out with. His eyes are vibrant blue as his hair is light brown and a bit messy. He looked fit and a head shorter than my dad. The thing that caught my attention is that his Jersey had the number 1.

"Captain," I accidentally said out loud.

"That would be me," the jock guy that also has a personality of a jerk steps more closer towards me. "What's wrong?" He pulls a fat lip.

I sigh, and I look at my dad who is already staring at me. "I have no time to spend with these losers."

All the guys were quiet and seem quite shocked. I know what I said and meant it entirely as I begin to walk away until my father calls out, "they need you, your their eleventh player."

I stop dead in my tracks. Without me their not what they would call a team.

"Not my problem," I say stubbornly as I walk quickly away.

I sat in my father's car for over an hour before I started seeing them all go into different directions as my father comes over to the car with a straight expression. What is he thinking?

He shoves himself in the car in a non-care manner. As he just sat there, I begin to feel a little awkward.

"Ashley I know you might dislike them because they called you a girl and weak but think of their point of view. They've never had a girl on their team," my father mentions as he starts the car.

I look out my window to see some of the guys I remember earlier chatting among each including that jock.

"Dad, why was he so mean?" I sigh looking at him.

He laughs, but when I look at him with a blank expression, he stops immediately. "He has anger management problems, normal to be concerned about."

That still doesn't give him the right. I play soccer to get my anger and grief out. What happens if I can't?

"What's happening now?" I asked looking out the front window.

"There's a game tomorrow everyone from the soccer team can miss out on school for the day," my father cheers to himself.

Was missing out on school less essential than a soccer match with teammates that don't approve me?