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She lets out a little laugh. “Not looking forward to it, to be honest. I’d rather be out on the pitch. Though I’m guessing you get that more than anybody.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“How’s your knee?”
I slant a side glance her way as we enter the stairwell. It’s an innocent question that could also be construed as fishing for weakness. Injuries are ordinarily kept under wraps for just this reason, but not participating in anything more strenuous than sit-ups was bound to raise some suspicion. Not to mention the knee brace I’ve been wearing around the house. “All clear.”
“Glad to hear it,” the girl replies. Her tone sounds genuine, but I don’t fully drop my guard. “My cousin plays in the States. Said you’re absolutely insane on the pitch.”
I don’t say anything at first, just keep walking down the stairs. False modesty has never been my forte. “You must not be terrible if you’re here.”
“Saylor!” We emerge from the stairs, and Ellie’s waiting in the hallway. “Hey, Alexis.”
I was right about the A, at least. “Hey,” I reply.
“What happened to you this morning?” Ellie asks.
I shrug. “Went for a walk. Got a coffee.” I hold up the mostly empty cup as evidence.
“All right. We’d better get in there.” Ellie heads toward the door that leads to the same room we met Coach Weber in the first day.
The seat formation is the same, too. So is the silence when I enter with Ellie and Alexis behind me.
Coach Weber is already at the front, setting up the projector next to the whiteboard she’s drawn out a play on. I feel her steely gaze on me as I make my way to one of the few free folding chairs. Ellie plops down on the one beside me. To my surprise, Alexis takes a seat on my other side.
It feels good to have another ally, especially since I doubt our scrimmage tomorrow will earn me many new friends. None who aren’t on my assigned team, at least.
But I’m not appreciating Alexis’s presence as Coach Weber starts the first video or listening to her point out strategy on the field.
I’m thinking about my conversation with Adler Beck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Kluvberg is going to be at the stadium today,” Ellie informs me as she takes a seat opposite me at the table.
“What?” I glance up from my phone, where I’m texting Cressida.
She nods. “Uncle Franz said they have some sort of exhibition match for charity coming up, so they’re changing up their practice schedule this week. The team wants to play on the field before the game or something.”
“Huh.”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “Of course you’d be this nonchalant about it. Adler fucking Beck is going to be on the same field as you, Saylor.”
I don’t tell her it won’t be the first time. Or the second. “He’s not the only player on the team, Ellie.”
“Uh, he sort of is. I got to meet him at an event with my uncle last year, and he lives up to the hype.”
I shovel another bite of yogurt and granola in my mouth to avoid responding.
“Ladies, let’s go!” One of the Scholenberg organizers appears in the doorway, and we’re hustled out of the house to the van idling at the curb.
I drop my bowl off in the bin for used dishes on the way.
A knot of trepidation tightens in my stomach as the van rolls to a stop in front of the massive stadium. I twist the hem of the sweat-wicking tank top I’m wearing, attempting to settle my nerves.
Ellie catches the movement from her seat beside me. “Your knee will be fine.” She pats my thigh comfortingly.
I smile in acknowledgment of her assurance, although I’m acutely aware my old injury is not the reason I’m anxious about being here.
