He surveys the team with clear amusement in his eyes, showing once again how misogynistic he was. We both leaned in to shake hands, him whispering a sentence that made my blood boil.
“Ready to lose?”
“Fat chance” I scoffed, trying not to show how much he got to me. God, if he was anything like he was at summer camp then he’d still be as annoyingly cocky as he was there. All summer, I had been tortured by him besting me just slightly, and I was no longer going to let him do it. I would reclaim my first place position today. Even if the game didn’t really count.
The referee blows his whistle, the girls receiving first kick, as always. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t have us toss a coin or something better to make sure that there was a fair chance for the boys, as the girls didn’t need any extra help. But whatever, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I take a quick step up to the ball, faking left and delivering a hard kick to the right. While most of the forwards on the other team follow where I faked going, blonde lip ring didn’t, blocking the pass easily and taking possession of the ball.
I stand dumbfounded for a moment, wondering silently how he had seen right through my fake. No one ever did. Then I remembered the first week of camp, when we had all discussed what move we started our game with. God, of course he would remember. If I could go back now and take back what I had said so that he wouldn’t have been able to anticipate it, I sure as hell would.
I’m broken from my quick train of thoughts and he sprints past me, the ball at his feet. I turn and begin to follow, however as fast as I can sprint, he easily beats me. Of course, it wasn’t helping that I had been slow on the uptake, distracted by my thoughts.
He’s soon passing Marie, our main defensive player, and I already know what’s going to happen. He takes a sharp left, kicking the ball high and hard so that it landed with a perfect swish in the top corner of the net, high above our goalie’s head. God, why did he have to be so good? It would be easier to hate him if at least he didn’t play well.
He smirks at me while he passes, bumping my shoulder slightly with his. Real mature. I prepare to kick the ball that’s just been set in front of my feet. This time I go left and follow through, throwing him off as he thinks that I’ll try my signature play again. Ha, as if I would be stupid enough to try the same thing again.
I pass by him, as he’s gone right, however he recovers quickly, hot on my heels in an instant. I swerve left and right, trying to throw him off, however he sticks to me close. In a moment of final desperation, I kick the ball to my left, right to Allison. It pained me greatly to do it, but despite the shit I talked about her, she could shoot well.
She kicks it hard, just rushing past the goalie’s hands and into the net. She smirks, clearly pleased with herself, as we all head back to min-field, where the boys would be kicking soon. However before we reach our positions, Mrs. Williams’ hand flies up into the air and the referee blows the whistle, signaling a time out.
“Alright girls, this is clearly going to be a hard game. Much harder than the normal season games, as well as the games against Pearson’s in the past. They seem to know Sophie’s tactics already.”
“Mrs. Why don’t we just play someone other than Sophie, if they already know her moves?” Allison asks, faking innocence in her statement, like she really did just want what was best.
