Playing the Field

Is this ... Sexist?

I sling my bag over my shoulder as I walk out the locker room doors into the hallway and then make my way to the field.

I see coach, head bent over a clipboard. I stand besides him and look at the plays drawn on the piece of paper he had been staring so intently at.

"New plays?" I ask.

He shook his head, "Old ones. Debating on bringing them back."

I tilt my head for a better look, "They seem intense, coach, and well to be frank in this time everyone is such a pansy. We play a certain way and suddenly we're monsters."

Coach gives me a dry smile, "Avery, to be frank, we're a serious college football team, and we have a girl. Lots of people got it in their minds that we're playing at some angle. Cause what gentleman in his right mind is going to tackle a girl?"

I shake my head, "If I'm consciously agreeing to be on the field then I expect to be treated like the rest of the team."

"I know," he grins, "and that's exactly why I fought so hard to get you here. You're not trying to make some bold statement or prove something. You're here because you love football. And you're pretty damn talented. Speaking of which, don't you have an interview?"

I check my watch and realize if I don't leave now, I'll be late. "I do. Thanks coach. And about the plays, use them. After serious revision. Those look tough, for the other team at least. We don't need any serious injuries."

I then start off to my car.

As I throw my bag into the trunk, I hear a deep chuckle. I glance up and see Stanley leaning against his huge white Tundra.

I roll my eyes, "Something to say?"

"Yes, a lot actually." His blue eyes shine.

"Then keep it to yourself." I snap.

He shook his head, "You know all your grand ESPN fame is like giving the special kid a participation ribbon. Meaningless, and only to make everyone look good and supportive."

He then bravely saunters up right next to me and grips my chin in his large hand, "You're nothing, Avery Skinner. Just a bitch tryna be a man. The world is going to shit because of people like you."

Red hot anger courses through me. I slap his hand off my face then bite out, "You're just some spoiled, trust fund, entitled white trash, Stan. You're jealous, get over it. I'm here to stay."

He took a step closer and all I could smell was axe body spray and mouthwash. His eyes were a whole shade darker and I know both of our cheeks were flushed. He says, "You're a disgraceful mockery to this team. Do the lot of us a favor and drop out. Better yet, do what girls are best; lay on your back and shut the fuck up."

 I had a few comebacks ready, but I couldn't deliver any. Out of nowhere, is a loud, "Stanley if you don't back away from that girl,"

I turn and see Nia and Karl. I grin when Stanley blinks and starts his retreat. But not wanting to seem cowardly, he spits out, "Or what? Huh? What will you do? You and fatass there. So terrifying. I can only see the headlines now. Black Woman assaults College Student."

Nia's eyes grow, "I go here too, asswipe."

His smile grows, "Like it'd matter."

"Nia," I call, "he's literally not worth it. Lets go." I say, opening my door.

His words set something awful in my mouth. Because it's true. If Nia were to protect me, hell even if I were to protect myself, we would somehow be in the wrong. Because women are wrong. Can't have a say in our bodies. In our lives. Our work places. Every step we take, suddenly there's new stairs in a new direction to climb. It's worse for Nia. She's one of the most beautiful, kind hearted women I've come across. But she's black and for whatever reason that's such a fucking crime in this society. I just read a story about how a cop shot a man, in his own house! I don't want harm or even bad light to befall her. She has stuck up for me. Been an advocate around campus for me. When debates about me on the field arise, Nia is the first to speak for me when I'm not present. I wouldn't forgive myself if what I do hurt her in some twisted way.