1. Kick (Thomas Muller)

in which the invitation is sent

As she had expected, Libby's head pounded against her skull at 5:30 AM. Shrugging it off, because she was used to it, Libby practically dragged herself out of her warm bed that just erupted in pleasure as she walked to the bathroom in the absolute cold.

After Libby had devoured a complete breakfast of toast, eggs, and yogurt, her thoughts finally emerged from her throbbing head.

She remembered her coach last night after practice telling her that she would play great as forward in the next game.

Libby had shook her head and merely laughed, because she had known her coach was dead serious about this plan. Coach muttered some excuse for putting me in the position, along the lines of, " I think changing things up will be good for the team."

Maybe this was what she needed, everyone to see that she was a midfielder, and nothing else but a midfielder.

Libby quickly changed into her soccer sweatpants and her t-shirt and jacket and exited out the door with her bag slung on her shoulder.

When she arrived at the pitch, Libby immediately started stretching. There was no one at the field at 6:00 AM, but Libby always woke herself up and got ready for practice earlier than the rest of the team. 

The eerie silence was comforting to Libby, as she grabbed her soccer ball and started doing moves none of the rest of the team knew how to even start with.

Sooner than Libby had expected, the rest of her team was arriving, wide awake and laughing with one another.

"Whaddupppp Libs?" Hope Solo ran up to me to give me a hug. Libby squeezed her tightly, kind of glad to have a friend.

"Nothing much, just practicing a bit," Libby said in a hushed whisper. If someone were to describe Libby, it would be athletically gifted, but not socially. But that was no problem to Libby, she knew that people thought that and she could actually care less.

"You mean camping out on the pitch?" Hope laughed , putting her on large goalie gloves. Libby smiled and thought about how Hope would always be goalie, she could never have this change to forward all of a sudden. Libby's frown returned as she thought about this.

"What's wrong?" Hope said all of a sudden, noticing the expression Libby wore. Libby started walking toward the edge of the field, where practice was soon starting. She told Hope everything coach had told her, rolling her eyes at the part where Coach had nodded his head continuously, closing the door on her face before she could detest.

"No way, Libs, that's amazing!" Hope started jumping up and down. Libby raised her eyebrows to this action, but realized she was warming up, which was needed in this cold weather. 

"What?" Libby stammered, not able to process as to which part of the story was good. Hope just laughed, lunging forward and reaching her arms backwards; Libby closely followed, deciding to stretch once more for luck, which she needed.

"I mean, forward is the most televised position, you know. We're talking Robin Van Persie, Gareth Bale, Arjen Robben, Christiano Ronaldo, Lionel Messi, even Thomas frickin Muller. Not to mention-"

"Hope. I get it, but I have no possible way of playing this position!" Libby halfway yelled, interrupting Hope's rant, causing her teammates to give her strange looks, then, in a more whisper tone, "They know how to play the position, Hope, whereas, I will look like a 5 year old who showed up to the single most important game in my career."

"Relax, Libs, it's really no big deal." Hope pat Libby's shoulder, running past her to the net, where she began her training with the alternative goalies.