10 Things I hate About Her (10 Things #1)

2. Player 15

An army of young ladies from St. James' Academy gathered in front of the opposing goal. Nothing more than pompous rich girls who thought they could play soccer as well as me. They took practice shots in their knee-high socks, and black and white ensemble. I caught the gaze of number fifteen. She stuck out her tongue. Thoughts of her trickled into my mind until I blocked them from penetrating any further. It was game time; girls were the least of my troubles. But also the cause of my trouble. I did my stretches and then went over some plays with the rest of my team, most of whom I trust very well, especially Dana; a girl from Kenya with spotless dark brown skin and the brightest eyes in our entire school. A dreamer, and an activist for women's and minority's rights. She patted the puff atop of her head, sculpting it into a nice round shape.

After the huddle, she pulled me aside and pointed to number fifteen. "Do you know her?"

I raised my left brow. "Do you?"

Her face turned serious. "I'm serious. You guys keep watching each other, and I don't want your messy relationships to interrupt with our game."

I laughed. "No, no relationship, it never got that far." We were out of ear shot of everyone else which was for the best.

"Then be sure to beat the hell out of them."

"Already on it, Captain," I said. Then, I made the mistake of looking up at the bleachers and saw Naomi sitting with her football player boyfriend- Jem, Jock, Dick, Ass- whatever his name was. He wrapped his arm around her waist, brushed his knee against hers. My eyes narrowed of their own accord.

Dana slapped the back of my head. "Stop it," she warned.

"Fine, fine," I said and took my position on the right wing. Dana took center. The moment before the referee blew the whistle was the most terrifying. The spectators' voices melted into muffled background noise. My heartbeat could be felt on the skin of my palms. I swallowed. The referee stood by the center line; whistle held between thin lips. He studied both teams, raised his hand and dropped it.

The whistle rung out across the field. The ball passed back from our front line and Dana caught it on the inside of her cleat. She shot across the field, a bullet dodging every obstacle in its way. She tore through the enemy lines, and I followed close behind as the ever-faithful knight. A swift pass I caught on my chest, and bounced it off my knee, then dashed forward, tripping players with my nimble footwork. Number fifteen closed in on me, black hair shaking lose from a single braid. Her cheeks turned red as she puffed. She attempted a side tackle; I hopped and shot the ball into the net.

We were both panting as the buzzer sounded. I met her gaze then. And I could see everything on her face. The pain I had caused, the broken promises, the things we hid from others. I nodded at her. She folded her arms, and we went back to our respective sides of the field while the ball reset. My chest clenched and I wanted nothing more than to get rid of the fast-mounting guilt. She and I stood opposite to each other, so chances were we would run into each other again.

Minutes into the next play, we were at a standoff. A petite girl on my team named Tiana was trying to outmaneuver a giant. Unable to make a break, she passed to me, but it was short. I ran towards it against two members of the opposing team. In a quick movement, number fifteen changed direction and ran at me instead of the ball. She kicked my legs, and I tasted grass, inhaled the freshness of the earth. My chin throbbed from the impact, and I rubbed it to make sure it wasn't bleeding. She tried to play it off as an accident as if she had meant to block me, but it went haywire.

"Whoops," she said as the ref held up a yellow card. "My bad." Her smile was paper thin. In her eyes was a darkness that I couldn't decipher. I must have lay there for a while as Dana raced over and helped me to my feet. We got a penalty kick from the ordeal, but I could tell Dana was angry.

"What was that?" she asked through gritted teeth as I walked towards the penalty line. Their goal keeper's face was drawn tight from the stress of blocking the shot. An unwilling girl tossed me the ball and I tapped it into place.

"Nothing," I told Dana, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

Her expression said she didn't believe me. "Let's talk later."

"Cool."

She moved back.

I took the shot.

It bounced off the keeper's wrist and was moved into play. I stole it from one of their fumbling players and scored a quick corner goal. The crowd cheered and I didn't forget to stare at number fifteen. She rolled her eyes and her hatred continued to seep out her pores, filling the field with invisible wisps of smoke.

After my team won the game, I wanted to avoid player fifteen, Dana and Naomi. I skipped the change room, taking my bag and helmet to the parking lot, not minding the thought of sitting on the bike somewhat exposed. The evening was warm, and it was a short ride home. It shouldn't be all that bad. Unfortunately, number fifteen had the same idea and I met her as she was getting into her team bus, still in uniform. She saw my reflection in the bus's glass doors and whirled around.

"What?" she shouted.

I shrugged.

"Did you come here to gloat?"

"When have I ever gloated?" I replied.

"Then why are you here?"

"I parked here."

The tension in her shoulders disappeared at that. "Oh."

I bowed my head. "I'm really sorry for hurting you... like that." I gripped my bag strap, wishing the moment were over, but she held me there, waiting for her response. So, I said it again, louder, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No. You're not." She disappeared inside the bus, an earthbound version of Aphrodite. Flowing black hair and piercing hazel eyes. Tall and slim, a graceful model, easy to desire. But also, easy to bore of. It was no fault of her own. If anything, I was the flawed one.

Tortured souls, humans were. Quick to be in love and out of it. Quick to apologize without meaning it. Quick to walk away without much thought. Quick to disappear without a word of goodbye. Quick to leave someone waiting an eternity over an empty promise.

Towards Cassandra Lin, I was apologetic and cognizant of all the ways I had wronged her. I deserved her hate, malice and all the kicks she had given me today.