‘I just think it was more complicated than that.’ Deen shrugs, as if reading my thoughts. ‘And maybe you should think about what Maya said, and not just jump to anger like you usually do.’
‘I don’t—’ I start to say angrily, before cutting myself off and taking a deep breath. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
Deen raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised that something he’s said has actually got through to me.
Chapter 30
Dina
One day to the match
I run through Maya’s words in my head over and over again. Even when I don’t want to. Her words, our entire conversation, are like a broken record in my mind. Even as I put in twice the hours at training with the team, I can’t help get her words out of my head.
The day of the match draws nearer and nearer, until there’s only one day left.
When I arrive at our final practice session, the girls are already kicking a ball around between them. I stand there for a moment, watching the intensity on their faces, the concentration. It’s strange to think that I had a hand in getting them here. A bloom of pride rises in my chest. A feeling I haven’t felt in years, maybe since I decided to quit football.
Then, Sophie stumbles on the ball and falls face first on the grass, breaking my reverie. I hurry towards her.
‘You OK?’
‘Fine.’ Sophie is already standing up, a blush rising up her cheeks as she brushes off bits of grass from her clothes. I spot the scrape on her knees, though, and it doesn’t look good.
‘Come on, let’s put a plaster on that,’ I say. ‘The rest of you, keep it up.’
Sophie and I sit down on one of the benches nearby and I take out the first-aid kit, pulling out a stack of plasters.
‘I wish I was as good at football as Jess and Jules,’ Sophie mumbles.
‘You know that was just a movie, right?’ I ask, with a chuckle. ‘Besides, the more you practise, the better you’ll get. You’re already heaps better than you were at the start of summer.’
‘Yeah, but if we don’t win tomorrow, those girls would be right about us,’ Sophie says. ‘Wehaveto win. Otherwise, we wasted all our time practising for nothing.’
I frown as I carefully place the plaster on Sophie’s knee. ‘Winning isn’t everything,’ I say. ‘And besides, you had a good time this summer, right? You made friends, and you and Sara aren’t always at each other’s throats anymore.’
Sophie nods sheepishly. ‘Yeah, I actually play better when I play with her. We practise together sometimes.’
‘So, you shouldn’t think of all the time you’ve dedicated to football this summer as a waste, win or lose.’
Sophie doesn’t look convinced. I guess I shouldn’t exactly be surprised. I’ve been pushing them so hard because we have this match with Westbrook, because I wanted to beat Maya. They’ve learned my competitiveness, inherited my frustrations.
Sophie reminds me so much of me when I was younger, and I don’t want her to take away what I did from football. I want her to love it and enjoy it, even if nothing ever comes out of it.
‘You know, when I was around your age, I loved football. So much. It was everything to me, and I had so many dreams. I thought that I would go on to become some kind of football legend. It didn’t happen.’ I shrugnonchalantly, but I can feel the pinprick of tears behind my eyes. I try to blink them away. ‘And I was angry about that, for a long time. I blamed other people for it. I blamed the wrong people, and it cost me … what I loved. But you and the rest of the team helped me find my love of football again. So, whatever happens tomorrow, I just think you should have fun and enjoy the game. Win or lose, I’ll always be proud of you, and you should be proud of you too.’
‘Even if we’re terrible?’ Sophie asks, like it’s a real concern for her.
‘Yes, no matter what,’ I reassure her. ‘And I know Jen feels the same way.’
Sophie offers me a small smile, and I return it. I don’t know if she’s really taken in what I’ve said, but I know that this is the best advice I can offer her.
After training is over, I tell the girls to go home and rest up, before gathering up my things. I’m wishing that I could go home and rest up for tomorrow too, but Jana has texted me about another catering job. Which means that I have to get on a tube to central London, change into my server’s uniform, and put on a fake smile for the rest of the evening. I’m not looking forward to it.
A woman approaches me while I’m at the park gate, smiling as if we’re old friends. I smile back, only because I’m afraid that she’s someone I know from university, or work, or school, that I’ve forgotten. I’ve never been great with faces.
‘Hey. Dina, right?’ the woman asks.
‘Um, yeah.’
