Score •• louis a.u.

chapter 24

Panic grips my heart and I sit up in bed, panting and breathing hard. Tomorrow is the day. The first game I will ever co-coach. Me. Coaching a football team. My breathing rises dramatically and I shove the covers off my sweat-soaked body. I pace my bedroom floor for a few moments, pulling on my hair whilst my stomach turns. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I rush to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, greedily drinking it and pouring another cup. I do this a few more times trying to wash away the inner turmoil but it doesn’t work and I slam the cup down, running my hands constantly through my tangled hair and fixing my twisted pajamas. What if I make the boys lose their game? What if I screw something up? What if someone gets injured by something I did? What if John realizes I’m a rubbish coach and fires me? My pacing speed increases till I’m flying around my small kitchen like I’m running a race. My hands feel jittery and I can’t breathe properly and terrible scenarios keep replaying in my mind over and over and over and tears spill down my cheeks and I can’t help the feeling terror and nerves coursing through me. I glance at the clock and wince at the time. Half two a.m. Grabbing my phone, I walk quickly over to my couch, slowly sinking down into the soft cushions. Taking a deep breath, I call the only person I can think of.

“Hi dad,” I whisper.

There’s a muffled noise on the other line and I wait impatiently for him to snap out of sleep. My leg bounces up and down erratically and I can’t control my sweaty palms and shaky voice. Angrily I wipe away my tears but more replace them, a steady stream of salt down my face.

“Square? What are you doing up at this time?” Sleep laces my father’s voice and I feel a twinge of guilt for waking him up this early. The warmth from my familiar nickname overcomes my guilt and I smile for the first time, sniffing and wiping my wet face.

“Sorry dad, I—uh—I couldn’t sleep.”

“What’s on your mind?” The huskiness of his voice is gone and I can tell he’s fully awake, eager to hear my worries. I smile harder and fresh tears fall.

“I can’t do it dad,” I whimper, biting my lip aggressively to suppress a sob.

“What do you mean? Trey, where are you?” His voice raises in alarm and I almost laugh.

“No, it’s not like that. I’m home.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Tomorrow’s my first game, dad, and I can’t do it,” my voice breaks at the end of my sentence and I clear my throat.

“What do you mean you can’t do it? Of course you can! Your mum and I taught you better than that!”

“What if I mess everything up? I suck at staying on football teams, dad, but this one is really important to me. It’s the first game and it’s my time to show John that I can lead his team but what if I screw up? What if something goes terribly wrong and we lose and it’s all my fault?” I’m crying hard now, full on sobs into my phone and I hear him sigh.

“You’re just worried about losing?” He asks.

“No dad! Not only that but no one on the team likes me and all I’ve done so far is force them to practice and what am I supposed to do when faced with another team?” I babble loudly and my hands fly around me in a frenzy.

“Just do what you would do if you were playing. It’s no different, love. The atmosphere’s the same, the place is the same, the people are the same; it’s just your position that’s changed. Instead of being out on the field waiting for the ball, you’re standing on the sidelines waiting for your players to get the ball. You’ll be fine,” he says, his voice calming me down tremendously.