Scoring The Coach ✔️

chapter one

Chapter One

"And how would I know how to do that?"

They were at it again.

    It was a sweltering afternoon in Connecticut, the kind of weather where no matter what we tried, the temperature wouldn't budge. Summer temperatures were especially bad because we couldn't afford air conditioning.

The heat only made my parents more irritable, which meant they were more likely to start fighting. Anything that could bring the financial situation into the conversation was a bad idea. It didn't help that lately, it all circled back to one of the most pressing matters: college.

    I was lying on my bed with my textbook for AP Government open, attempting to drown out my screaming parents with a John Mayer vinyl and intense concentration on the three branches of the US government.

    The topic of today's argument seemed to be one that surfaced again, and again, and again: me, myself, and I.

    "As parents, it's our job to send Laura to college!" My mom wasn't yelling so much as raising her voice at my father. Believe it or not, she was much calmer than he was when it came to arguments.

    "How would we do that if I can barely afford the power bill for this month? We don't have the money to pay thousands a year so she can go off to college!" my father snapped.

    I could picture Dad's face, red with frustration and anguish as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tall and lanky like me, but his dark hair was streaked with grey. We had the same brown eyes, though his seemed to be emptier in those days. Mom was blonde, the only other blonde in our extended family, but her blue eyes were still beautiful, even after years of stress had weathered her face. It probably didn't help that tensions had been so high lately.

    It took about twenty minutes of overhearing the conversation to send me to the point of retreat. Most of the time, despite it all, money didn't bother me. Not until recently, that is.

    I was on the bedspread I'd owned for a good ten years of my life. My heels were propped up against the wall that rattled from the loud arguing my parents were doing as I counted the individual lumps in the popcorn ceiling. I didn't care that my blanket was still a little damp from being cleaned in our crappy washing machine and being left to dry in the heat all afternoon. Clotheslines weren't very effective, but it wasn't like we had another option—the dryer broken the month before. I prayed that the rest of our appliances would last until I left the house. The last thing we needed was something else to pay for.

    "Didn't she say she was shooting for that soccer scholarship from Brown anyway?" he countered.

    We can't just hang everything on that. No pressure, Dad.

    I had been aiming for Brown University since my fifth-grade soccer coach told me she had gotten in on a full-ride. She was amazing and talented, just like I wanted to be. After years of soccer, I'd grown the smallest, suppressed animosity toward the sport. It became something I had to do, instead of what I wanted to do. My mother knew this much, which is why she brought up the idea of them trying to pay for my college. She wanted to carry the burden, not realizing that I was perfectly content to do so on my own.

    I understood soccer was the only way I could graduate and go on to college and get a real job so I could take care of all of us. That's why I played and played well. Sure, I didn't love it with all my soul like the other girls fighting for a scholarship, but I was a solid player and had my best friend, Risa, to accompany me through every grueling practice and game.

    As for my parents? They barely had jobs. My dad had worked in insurance as a secretary before he got laid off a few years back. We went from good money to no money, hence the old sheets and no wifi. No matter how hard they worked, neither of my parents could seem to find a good job anywhere. Instead, they were settling for minimum wage work.