Which was good for the team, but meant I was alone by the goal, braced for nothing.
After we made five goals, my focus dipped. And the second I wasn’t fully focused on the game, my eyes went to the screen. Just in case they cut back to the booth, to Kodi.
The camera was on Carter and Ricci as they passed around the Bruisers' fullback. But then it switched to the announcer booth and there was Kodi. She’d stood up, hands on the table to lean forward to watch the game. Then a cannon sound went off from our pirate mascot, signaling a Dastards’ goal, and Kodi shot up, pumped her fists, and danced around in a circle.
“So, do you think your boy is actually gonna get a chance to do anything in this game?” Marshall asked once Kodi settled back down.
“Oh, well …” Kodi dragged out the word, nose crinkling.
“You can’t ask an inexperienced announcer to talk bad about the opponents on their first day,” Lowery said with a laugh.
“They’re not bad,” Kodi argued. “They just don’t have the coordination they need to take on a team like the Dastards.”
“And you’ve been a fan of the Dastards a long time, yeah? I don’t think evenIrecognize that jersey you're wearing. Turn around and show the camera, if you don’t mind.”
Kodi hopped back up and turned around, pinching the jersey by her shoulders so the name across her back was clear. Trevino. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“So Trevino was the keeper for the Dastards in the early aughts. But specifically, he was the keeper for my very first soccer game. I was … I dunno, in third grade, and my parents took me and my best friend here for a game. We sat right behind the goal and watching Trevino play was just … god, it was a magical.” Kodi sat back down, eyes sparkling. “My friend was already obsessed with soccer and we’d play all day in the summer. But at that point, I was only playing because he liked it and I liked him.”
I think I might have a heart attack.
“But that game was when Ireallyfell in love with the sport. The other team was tough competition and they were constantly in the box. But Trevino blocked every single goal. It was incredible! And right before the end of the first half, one ball hit the bar and flew right into my lap. Trevino jumped the wall to come get it but when he saw a little kid holding on to the ball like a teddy bear, he couldn’t take it away from me.”
I can’t believe I forgot about that. It was the first time I’d gone to a professional game, the first and only time I’d ever gone on a family outing, even if it wasn’t my family. And catching a ball was just the cherry on top of that day. They even sent us home in jerseys.
“And when Trevino finally retired … ten years ago, maybe more — I broke down. Like, I was completely heartbroken. So I scrounged up every dollar under the couch, broke my piggy bank, mowed lawns, did anything I could think of so I could buy Trevino’s last jersey. And this might tell you a little too much about me, but I did specifically buy one a few sizes too big so that I wouldn’t grow out of it immediately.”
“That’s incredible,” Marshall whispered.
“Talk about a dedicated fan.”
“Too bad cellphones weren’t as good back then, I’m sure you would’ve gone viral over that, too,” Marshall joked and Kodi’s face went pink. He laughed, waving a hand. “Sorry, sorry. Just a joke.”
My brows furrowed together as I tried to piece together what Marshall meant by that. I mean, sure, that moment would’ve gone viral if that was a thing back then, cute kids always did. But there wasn’t another moment she could’ve gone viral for. We’d only gone to that one game. So what was he talking about?
“Kean!” somebody shouted and I snapped back into the game to see the opposing team’s striker and attacking midfielder heading right for me with the ball, Taylor and Fuller too far behind to make a difference. The midfielder shot and in a rush, I jumped to block the ball and I felt my finger brush against it right before my head hit the bar.
A Bad Bump
Olli
“All right, who bet on Kean getting distracted by Kodi at today’s game?” Brooker shouted as the team rushed into the locker room, all of us eager to get a shower or ice injuries or just go home to get away from an asshole teammate.
“I wasn’t distracted.”
“I put twenty on it,” Carter said, following Brooker over to his cubby, who pulled out a huge wad of cash.
“You actually bet on that?” I shouted, tossing my empty water bottle at his feet.
“I bet that you wouldn’t, so you kind of owe me twenty,” Gallagher said.
“Y’all are assholes.”
“Says the guy who almost ruined our shutout,” Ricci said. “The one time they get their shit together and you’re out there staring at the screen like a lovestruck teenager.”
“I’m not —” I started to argue but gave up when Christenson put a hand on my shoulder.
“How’s the head?”
