"Right, I mean, except for the whole soccer thing.But other than that, I have some time."Jesus, I sound like the bumbling idiot I am.I’m not even trying to hit on this chick.Something deep within screams to me that she, above all else, needs a friend.
Or maybe I do.
I’m not sure I’m friend material, but I can be nice.My parents raised me to at least be that.I think about number ten on her list about her mom.I wonder what that story is?Not everyone is as lucky as the Doyle brothers.
After I close the door behind Rachel, I scramble to get ready for practice.I haven’t eaten enough to fuel me for the upcoming workout, so I grab two protein drinks and swallow them down as I’m driving.This is bound to cause stomach cramps, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I pull into the field house, grab my bag out of the back seat, and make it in with one minute to spare.No one can give me shit for being late today.
Except I’m the last thing on everyone’s mind when I walk in.Brandon Nix is out.
I drop my bag on the locker room bench."Was he fired for pounding O’Marra?Dude deserved it."
Maliq Miller’s at his locker next to mine."I heard he quit."
Merriweather Hayes calls from across the room, "That’s stupid.Why would he quit?He’s our top scorer."
I glance over at Landon Stubbs, who’s suspiciously quiet.I wouldn’t say Brandon Nix has many friends on this team—it’s hard to make friends when you’re a blowhard—but if he did, Landon would be one of them.
"Stubbs, you’re awfully quiet," I call.He knows something.I can tell."What’s the real story?"
And once again, I cannot figure out why I’m so damn nosy about other people’s personal lives.I just have to know.
Landon won’t meet my gaze.He’s looking down at his feet and pretending to be busy rearranging something in his bag.He didn’t even look this uncomfortable when he came out and introduced us to his boyfriend, Carlos.
"Come on, Stubbs.I know you know," I goad.
"Shut up, Doyle."Callaghan Entay practically growls."Leave Landon alone."
"Listen up," a voice booms from the entrance of the locker room.We all turn our attention to Coach Janssen."As you may be aware, Brandon Nix has left the Boston Buzzards organization.Not that we need to provide you with any information at all"—he glowers right at me—"but we can’t have any of you spreading rumors about your former teammate."His gaze remains trained on me.
"I can’t believe I have to have this conversation, like you’re a bunch of preteen schoolgirls," he mutters, running his hand through his graying hair.One of the assistant coaches hands him an iPad, and he reads off it in a monotone voice: "This is the official statement from the front office.Commenting or posting anything besides the official statement will be subject to disciplinary actions."He takes a deep breath and continues."The Boston Buzzards have announced that Brandon Nix left the team, terminating his contract, of his own accord with no punitive actions pending, and the organization wishes him well in his future endeavors.The Boston Buzzards stand firm that all employees of the United States Soccer League and the United States Soccer League Referee Association should be treated with respect and dignity, including freedom from harassment and assault, regardless of gender, orientation, or race."With a curt nod of his head, he spins on his heel and is gone.
The team sits in silence for a moment.There’s a lot to unpack and process.It’s obviously a dig against Seamus O’Marra and his touching of the female referee.That’s totally bullshit.You can’t grab a woman’s ass, and everyone knows that.Especially when she’s officiating a game.The referees are totally off-limits—
"Wait a minute!"I yell, the pieces falling together."Are Nix and Andi Nichols hooking up?"
That would explain why he went after O’Marra the way he did.There have been rumors swirling around on ClikClak ever since that video of her red-carding him went viral.
What I wouldn’t give for that sort of traction.
But also, there was that warning about punitive actions, like that can keep the gossip mill down.Not in this day and age with social media.
"Okay, guys, enough of this.I need you ready to go for warm-ups in three," Claude Kenley, our strength and conditioning coach, calls.
Walking out to the practice pitch, I realize that if I can’t talk about this on social media, there’s no one I can share it with.
Fuck, that’s depressing.
That thought rams around my brain throughout the entire practice.Sure, I could call my brothers or even my parents.They have to take my calls.It’s family code.But aside from that, I only have four million strangers to talk to.
Shit, I need to figure this out.I should probably go talk to our team shrink, Watson Ross.I can only imagine what he’d have to say about me.Yeah, I probably don’t want to hear that.
How did I get this alone?
Immediately, Rachel pops into my mind.She’s totally alone, too.She seems super sad about it.I’m not sad.I’m just … I don’t know.Ambivalent, I guess, if ambivalence feels like itching in the bottom of my feet and restlessness in my legs and uneasiness in my stomach.
I feel like ambivalence should feel like less, not more.
