"If you don't all finish in the next 30 seconds then you'll all be doing them again!" Coach Wolf yelled from the sideline.
I pumped my arms and started to move my legs faster in fear and anticipation of what would happen if I didn't finish in time. Whoever said that fear wasn't a good motivator obviously had never played soccer.
Our coach called this sprints drill the wheel spokes sprints. The girls on the team called it the wheel of torture.
I agreed with the second name better.
Cones were set up in a circle with other cones making lines going to the center of the circle. It looked like a wheel with spokes. You sprinted around the outside until you came to a spoke. Then you sprinted down the spoke to the center of the circle. Then you backpedaled back up the spoke and repeated the process once you reached the top.
Everyone on my team hated it.
Unfortunately it was necessary because my team was preparing for the state tournament. We were good this year and had a chance of winning, which we were all very excited about.
If I'm being honest, I've never met a person who didn't like to win. Just saying.
I could hear my teammates behind me breathing harder as we all were on the final parts of the drill. When I was done with my last sprint, I threw my hands over my head and gasped for air in an attempt to control my breathing. As the last girl finished Coach Wolf walked over.
"Well done ladies. Ice baths are in the locker rooms."
As I looked around, I saw girls tiredly dragging their feet to the locker room. Only one person was still lying down. I laughed and walked over to her. I nudged her with my foot a couple of times before heading to the locker rooms myself.
"Cleao, get your lazy ass up! There won't be any ice baths left if you don't hurry," I called over my shoulder. Cleao and I had known each other since we played tiny tots soccer at age 4.
"Grace, I don't think I could get up if I tried," Cleao groaned.
"Well I guess I'll have to give the m&ms I got for you to someone else," I taunted. I knew Cleao was a sucker for m&ms.
Needless to say, Cleao was no longer laying on the ground after that statement.
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"Come on Grace! He's going to be there! I need you to come with me!"
Don't look in the eyes, Grace. Don't look in the eyes!
Dammit it I looked in the eyes.
"Fine, okay. I'll go. Why do you even have a crush on Corington high's wide receiver? He's a complete tool." Cleao glared at me and I held my hands up in surrender.
"Okay okay, what time are you picking me up?"
"Oh no, you're coming over now. You can't expect me to be alone while I'm freaking out about what I'm going to say to him," she answered.
"Sometimes I wonder why I bother hanging out with you."
"Probably because I'm the only one who puts up with your sarcasm. And the fact that I give you food," she told me with a cheeky smile on her face as we walked to the parking lot.
"Wow. That was actually spot on. Nice job!" I exclaimed giving her a fist bump.
I jumped in the passenger side of her pickup truck. As she started to drive I grabbed the aux cord and played Title by Meghan Trainor. Cleao looked at me in disbelief.
"Really? Seriously, again? We listened to this on the way here."
I smiled at her and made a point to sing as obnoxiously as I could.
Cleao didn't stop talking about the party for the entire afternoon, and I was getting slightly annoyed.
"Please give me a break! Half the people there are going to be too drunk to even notice what you're wearing," I told her while rubbing my temples. She glared at me and continued to search her closet for a perfect outfit.
After what felt like hours, we were both ready. I was in jean shorts and a dark gray shirt, with a flannel around my waist. With a bit of encouragement from Cleao, or her screaming in my ear for an hour, I pulled my hair out of its usual ponytail braid and left it wavy.
Cleao, on the other hand, pulled out all the stops. She was wearing a tight, light pink skirt with buttons down the front of it. She also had on a white crop top that showed off quite a bit of the *ahem* "goods." If that wide receiver didn't pay attention to her tonight then there's something wrong.
"We're off to see the wizard! The wonderful wizard of Oz," I sang as we walked down the sidewalk after parking our car. It was quite obvious which house the party was at. A loud, thumping beat could be heard from outside the neighborhood, and cars lined the street on both sides.
"You ready for this?"
I looked at her and gave her a sharp nod.
"Let's blow this popsicle stand," I told her, and we fist bumped.
YOU ARE READING
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