Except now. One more wrong move, and it’ll all be over. And then what? I didn’t go to college. I have no skills off the pitch. When people say soccer is life, they don’t know how accurate that is to someone like me.
I should remind the Buzzards how valuable I am, so they don’t throw me away like yesterday’s coffee cup. As much as I want to run away, I stop and smile for the aspiring paparazzi who are about to ambush me. A few minutes of cheesy mugging might be all it takes to erase that other video from the trending watches on ClikClak.
All I need to do is keep giving them new material so the other thing goes away.
It’s as easy as making a penalty kick.
Chapter 7: Andi
I’m fine. No, really, I am.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I am the furthest thing from fine that I can get. All because ... society sucks, that’s why. And because some baboon named Brandon Nix had to get in my face.
That’s it.
And now, instead of being upset that the USSLRA pays its women referees less than they pay their men and being able to get fair pay for fair work, I’m put on notice that my career could be over because of aperceived—what? I don’t even know what to call it. Flirtation? Impropriety? Attraction?
HA! That makes me laugh. Brandon Nix? Foul-tempered, loud-mouthed, hasn’t-had-a-haircut-this-decade Brandon Nix? The thought of anything with that man has me cackling away like a maniac. I don’t remember the last time I laughed like this. You know, the gut-busting kind where you literally bend in half and slap your knee. Because I’m alone, I let myself laugh until I notice tears falling in drops onto the floor.
This is so unfair.
That’s a familiar mantra in my life. Familiar enough to pull me up straight, my face quickly falling back into its neutral resting position.
I only ever complained about something being unfair once when I was a kid. Once was enough. A well-meaning family friend heard me complaining that someone was cheating while we were playing soccer in the neighborhood. I still remember her pulling me aside, her words stinging like a wasp.
Andi, you know what’s unfair? That your brother will never be able to walk. He doesn’t ever get to play soccer. That’s a big deal. That’s unfair. This is child’s play. Your parents don’t need to deal with your whining. Figure it out yourself.
Every time I think about something being unfair, I always return to that moment. Of course, I knew Benj was different. He wasn’t walking, but I didn’t know he wasn’t ever going to walk. Not until that moment. When Mrs. Cheney said that my whole world shifted on its axis. Benj is six years younger than me. I was probably about ten, which made him four. Whenever I’d asked Mom or Dad about it before that point, they said he hadn’t read the book on development and was on his own schedule.
That made sense to me, because what baby can read a book?
Later that night, I straight up asked Mom if Benj was ever going to walk or play soccer. That’s when she told me he had this thing called Spinal Muscular Atrophy—SMA—and no, he wasn’t ever going to walk. She told me he was going to be getting an electric wheelchair when he went to school, and that we would be building a new house that would be accessible for Benj.
I nodded along like I knew what that meant. I didn’t want to ask my mom any more questions, when this was obviously so hard for her to talk about. I decided in that moment that I’d never stress my mom out again.
