*currently editing*
Two boys. Two different schools. One game. One goal.
Life was easy when you were considered high school royalty but when you get rivalry on the field, things get a little interesting.
Connor Taylor went to Northshore. Dakota Ande...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"i'm on the run with you, my sweet love, there's nothing wrong contemplating God, under the chemtrails over the country club"
chemtrails over the country club • lana del rey
***
We received news the following Wednesday afternoon at practice that Northshore had beaten Caulfield. Part of me was annoyed because it meant Connor was moving into the next round but a bigger part was concerned with beating him in the Championship. I'd be damned if some amateur team took that chance away before I'd even got a taste of it.
Ridgemount had played two other schools since Northshore and won. Coach had upped our practices to three times per week. I'd met with him in the weeks prior to discuss implementing new footwork and levelling up our drills.
"Woah," Keegan whistled as I returned from my seventh lap around the field. The rest of the team was cooling off in their two-minute break. "You're really going for it."
"You don't get to be the best for no reason." I took a desperate gulp of water from my drink bottle before dumping the rest on my head. Sweat clung to my body and my uniform felt like a second skin in the late summer heat. "I skipped dinner last night to nail this drill."
"Speaking of dinners," Keegan said, "my parents want to know if your family is still on for Saturday?"
"What's Saturday?"
Keegan snorted a laugh. "Brunch at the club? Both our families are going? Ring a bell?"
I rolled my eyes. "Why would it? My parents are there more often than they're home. What's special about this weekend?"
My parents were members of the exclusive Cadwallon Club, a high society for whose membership came only through birth right and an extensive registration fee. All the men in Dad's family had been members, going back generations to the club's establishment in 1869. Mum wasn't a member herself seeing as women couldn't join independently, but her marriage to my father made her an honorary member for the past twenty-one years.
Given the club's elitist branding, children were an unwelcome feature in the elegant dining rooms and on the lush greens. My first time at the club had been in attendance of a corporate lunch with investors for Dad's company when I was thirteen. The past lustrum had accumulated a string of memories with brunches, tennis matches and golf rounds that were really a front for Dad's business deals.
Keegan's parents were members of the Cadwallon Club too, which had founded our friendship when we were kids. If we weren't dragging our feet through yet another tedious brunch that spoke only of business dealings and trade, we were challenging one another to competitive tennis duels, coercing the gift shop employees into handing out free sodas, racing golf carts down by the lake, and flirting with young girls lounging by the pool. Or boys, in my case.
