Grey Skies

Chapter 18

****(Note at the bottom)****

Chapter Eighteen

I never really thought about it before, but I hate sitting. There's nothing you can do other than think and helplessly watch everything happen in front of you. This was all an unfamiliar feeling; my thighs were unaccustomed to the cool metal of the bench. I had never even sat on one long enough to have it imprinted across the backs of my legs, but now I was sure that if I stood horizontal lines would groove the otherwise smooth skin of my thighs. 

It's nearly ninety degrees outside and the sun is cast just above our heads, burning off the ends of my hair slowly. Despite this, Coach Serris is making us wear our windbreakers as we sit on the bench, but allows us to be just in our shorts in case he wants to sub someone into the game. 

The first game of the season is a scrimmage against a neighboring city whose team is called the Eagles while we're known as the Hawks. Apparently they were our biggest competition throughout our regular season and I could see why immediately. Their girls were huge; the defenders were tall enough to be keepers themselves and looked like they mixed nuts and bolts into their protein shakes after their workouts. Carly was having trouble getting past number five who was a moving brick wall that Carly bounced off of every time she got the ball. Their forwards were smaller, but still pretty big, and it was surprising to see how fast they were for their height. We weren't really that small either, but compared to them we had a disadvantage in strength and height. The only person that could really go head to head with them in the department was Val who was a walking bulldozer ready to wreck anyone coming in her direction. 

I'm sitting on the bench next to a few girls who have been talking about their relationship problems for the past twenty-seven minutes and thirty-five seconds of the game. I know the exact time because that's what happens when you're on the bench the entire time; there's nothing to do other than watch the clock and hope to hear your name called. 

There are bleachers just across from me that run the length of the field. They aren't completely filled, but a few families and friends are scattered in clusters across them. I look to the upper right corner to where I know that Davis is sitting in his black baseball cap and white t-shirt. His feet are on top of the bleacher in front of him and he rests his elbows on his raised knees. He fiddles with a water bottle in his hand and his eyes follow the ball as it moves across the field. Occasionally I hear him shout something down to Beth or Val who are actually out on the field. I wonder whether they have recognized the familiar, haunting voice. 

Coach Serris and White are at the other end of the bench. Coach White has three clipboards fighting for space on his lap. One of his hands fiddles with a pen while the other pulls at the gray hairs on his chin as he watches the game. Coach Serris is standing right next to him in a dark green polo top and dress pants. His arms are crossed and one of his hands cups his chin. 

Despite the fact that he had told me he had plans for me on this team and in the formation, Carly is up top by herself without me there to get in the way. I watch as the entire team works with and around her, as if she is the nucleus of the organism controlling and helping the supporting organelles. Her black hair is tied in a tight bun on the top of her head and a green headband holds back her baby bangs. Her long legs glide across the field effortlessly and her strong thighs step between the players and ball in hopes of retrieving possession. 

Her style of play hasn't changed since high school. She is still aggressive and proactive, constantly bouncing off everyone else's moves and adapting to the changes in play. She has no busted ankle or year long hiatus to throw her off her game and leave her sitting on the sideline. She is no outsider to the team or her position on the field. She has no grooves on the backs of her thighs.