Page 38 of Queen’s Gambit

“Because Ed is the main striker, and his job is to score. He’s also the captain, which makes him the most respected player. Lawrence is second striker. His job is to pass the ball to Ed or score if he can’t, but he hasn’t given the ball to Ed this whole game and keeps getting stripped of it. That was an oversimplification, but basically, he’s being selfish.”

“He wants to score himself?”

“Yes, exactly.”

They were in each other’s faces now, but I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was seemed very intense. Lawrence pushed Eddie, and I covered my mouth, expecting him to attack back, but he didn’t.

I hadn’t been here very long, but from what I’d seen of Lawrence, I didn’t trust him. More than that, it felt like he was trying to ride on Eddie’s coattails. There wasn’t a single instance I could point to that made me feel that way, but the small things added up. He was slowly worming his way in, waiting for Eddie until he put his guard down to strike. Like a spy, a sleeper agent, or even a traitorous member of one of our families. To me, they were all the same. You could paint them with a different brush, but they all had the same job. Find a way in, earn trust, and destroy. I’d figured out that was what poked at me and what I saw in Lawrence.

Whatever was happening had gotten heated enough that the Coach had a hand on each of their shoulders. Suddenly, Lawrence stomped away and yelled loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Don’t worry. I quit.”

He pulled off his jersey and threw it on the grass like it was garbage. I didn’t see much of his face before he turned his back on us in the stands, but it was enough to send a shiver racing down my spine. Lawrence might be dangerous as an ally, but he was far more terrifying as an enemy.

Someone else subbed in, and the game resumed. I cheered my heart out, but the fight between Eddie and Lawrence bothered me. I just couldn’t shake the unease that had settled over my mind.

The teams gathered on the opposite sides of the field—halftime, from what Paul told me, and I took the break in play to ask him a couple of questions.

“Do you play a sport?”

“I like baseball, but not enough to play. Skateboarding is more my thing,” he said.

“This may be a silly question, but what is skateboarding?”

“You don’t have that back home?”

I shrugged. “We probably do, but I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t allowed out very much. Most of what I’ve learned about the world is from movies, searching the web or from Eddie. He brought me candies from Italy on one visit.” I smiled as the memory flashed through my mind. “He is always doing sweet things like that. He taught me to play cards, had me stay up all night on the phone with him for a Star Wars marathon, and, in general, has helped keep me connected to more than my bubble. All of this here at school is very new to me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Yulianna. I grew up in a very restricted environment as well. I know what you mean about needing time to adjust.” He took his glasses off and cleaned them as he looked at me. “I think it would be easier to show you what skateboarding is rather than telling you.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“For sure.”

The guys ran back onto the field and set up in what Paul called a four-three-three formation. We jumped up, shaking the pompoms I’d made, and chanted, “Tro-jans” with everyone else.

“Paul?”

He looked at me.

“You can call me Yuli.”

Paul smiled wide and nodded. “I’d return the compliment, but I don’t have a nickname.”

“That’s okay, you don’t need one. One day, you’ll be running this place. You don’t need some silly nickname following you around.” I gave his shoulder a nudge, and he laughed.

“Thanks, Yuli. You and Ed were made for each other.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re both strong and kind. We need more powerful couples like you two in the world. I hope your dad signs off on your marriage…truly.”

Blinking back tears, I looked away. “Thank you, Paul, that means a lot.”

Sentimentality was forgotten in the next breath as Eddie raced through the center of the field. The other team seemed to be standing still as he moved the ball from one foot to the next better than I could with my hands. The chanting in the stands got louder, and as he took the shot we screamed and jumped up and down, urging the ball to go in the goal.

There apparently wasn’t anything to fear as their goalie was too slow, and the ball sailed over his fingertips and into the net.