“A rule for what?”
“That a girlcan’tplay soccer. Is there a rule that says so, or is there just no team?”
“Oh. Hm.” She sucks on her bottom lip again, thinking. “I don’t... know? I don’t think so, but I also don’t think anyone’s ever asked either.”
“Well... I guess I’ll have to be the first.
??` ?? ?´?
BEFORE SHE MOVEDaway,Carson convinced Kamaria and I to go with her and her older brother’s friends to this old, creaky house in our town that everyone said was haunted. I didn’t believe in ghosts or anything, but walking through the dark, shadowy halls, it still felt like a million pairs of eyes were pointed at me.
That was exactly what it felt like to walk across the Morrigal College Football Pitch.
“Excuse me,” I call out to the coach—a balding man in a navy colored windbreaker—who’s watching the players do laps around the field. Most of them have their gazes set on me, but I do my very best to ignore them. My confidence is currently playing hide-and-seek with my lunch, but I am determined not to lose my cool. Not until I get what I want.
If this guy can’t open up a rulebook and point to me where it says I can’t play, I’m gonna be lacing up my cleats and jumping into a game the first chance I get.
The coach turns, his bushy eyebrows nearly migrating into his receding hairline. “Can I help you, Miss?”
“My name’s Molly Lockhart. I’m new. I’m here to ask about try-outs.”
Those eyebrows knit together. It seriously looked like someone glued a squirrel’s tail to his forehead. I guess it’s no secret where all the hair on his head went to. “Try-outs?”
“For the team,” I clarify, gesturing to the field.
His brain seems to stall, and then he chuckles. It isn't a mean laugh, but itispatronizing and that’s much worse. It was like the kind of laugh you give a toddler who says they want to be a dinosaur when they grow up. “You’re a bit turned around, aren’t you? Girls’ hockey is over on Pitch Three. I can have someone take you, if you’d like.”
“I’m not turned around.” I kept my voice level. “I play soccer. Center-mid, but I can adapt. And I want to try out for the team—thisteam, since I guess you don’t have another one.”
His humor dies the tiniest death, and is replaced by a small frown. “Hate to be the one to break it to ya, love, but girls don't play football here.”
“Says who?”
He skirts around the question. “Look, lass, this isn’t the States. We’ve got traditions—”
“Traditions that include excluding female players from sports they’re perfectly capable of playing?”
His face darkens to a shade of purple that almost matched the lanyard his whistle hung off of. “This isn’t a debate. This is a competitive program, I don’t have the time for social experiments. I can’t help you.”
“I want to play.” I know I sound like a spoiled brat, but my patience is waning. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say when I asked, but I surely am not getting any closer to securing a spot.
“And I want to win the lotto, but we don’t always get what we want, now do we?” He turns away dismissively. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“I won’t excuse you at all,” I say, side stepping to stay in his line of sight. “Why can’t I try out?”
“Look, love,” he say, clearly trying to put me back in my place as a frivolous distraction. “Its nothing against you. It’s just nothow we do things. We’re a successful program; we don’t break what isn’t broken.”
It’s just not how we do things.As if that’s supposed to make me nod my head and agree with him. Why yes, of course. Silly me. If it’s not how we do things, I’ll be on my way. La la la—thank you, eyebrow man, for your tremendous wisdom. I’ll forever be indebted to you.
I don’t think so.
“I wanna see the rule.”
“Pardon?”
“The rule you have that says ‘girls don’t play football here,’ I wanna see it.”
I can tell by the look on his face he would very muchloveto show me that rule, but also isn’t sure if he has one to show me. I can practically hear the gears turning in his mind, wondering how he can get rid of me any faster.
