Page 77 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

“Don’t look too hard,” Dad says. “You’ve got to keep your eye on the ball.”

“Of course. See you later. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” they say together, then the video disconnects.

Maybe it’s uncool to admit that I genuinely like my parents, but I’m happy they’re coming to the game. Knowing they’ll be there to support me turns at least a few of the crawlies into cocoons.

* * *

After dinner that night, I slip into my uniform and throw on my team sweatpants and hoodie over the top. Fall in mid-November is a special time for playing soccer. Despite the cold, it’s one of my favorite times of year. And also one of the saddest, because I know that this is the last game I will play with some of these girls.

The seniors are extra jittery tonight. This is a Big Moment for me, but it’s even bigger for them. Because this is the last time they’ll wear a Cardinal Ridge uniform. Many of them will play on club teams in the spring, and some of them even play on my team, so I’m thankful I’ll have at least one more season with them before we part ways. Others will play for colleges or universities in the fall next year. But for some, this is the end of their soccer careers.

I take stock of all my senior teammates as we gather outside the hotel with our gear and wait for the driver to pull the bus around.

“How you doing, Ji-woo?” I ask, walking over to her. She’s just redone her sleek black ponytail for the third time.

She blows out a breath. “Hey, Chloe. I’m okay. Nervous, but that’s normal, right?”

I nod. “Of course. The nerves will disappear as soon as we get to the pitch. It’s the waiting that always gets me.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I heard you’re playing for Silver Lake next year. That’s exciting.” I flash her a huge smile.

The muscles in her forehead relax. “Yeah. It’s a D3 school, but that’s fine with me. I don’t need a big program. I just want to keep playing.”

“That’s amazing. Send me your schedule, and I’ll road trip with some of the team if we don’t overlap on game days.”

Her dark brown eyes light up. “Really?”

“Of course. Oh, bus is here. Let’s give ‘em heck tonight.”

Ji-woo beams. “They won’t know what hit them.” We do a little handshake before grabbing our stuff and getting in line.

On the bus on the way to the stadium, I sit with Janae, like I do for every other game. Force of habit and maybe a bit of superstition. Nobody wants to change what’s worked so far over this season. One small thing could mean our season ends without a championship banner to hang on the gymnasium wall.

Janae tells me how she’s been talking to Dillon, Rhoads’s friend. I dodge questions about me and Rhoads and try to wiggle out of Janae’s suggestions that we need to double date already.

“That is not on my radar tonight. I’ve worked so hard this year, and I’m ready to see the fruits of my labor.”

Janae makes a psh a sound. “You got to do what’s best for you. And I will support you, even if it annoys the crap out of me.”

“And that’s part of the reason you’re such a good friend.” I laugh, and Janae and I take turns picking music to listen to, sharing one ear bud each, until we park at the stadium.

Then we each retreat into our own ear buds and pre-game rituals. I cue up my pump-up pre-game playlist and jam out to the music, letting it wash away my nerves. There’s no more time to be nervous. I need to focus. Like my dad said. Get my head in the game and pull out the win. Block out any and all other distractions.

Especially ones who like piano music and have deep brown eyes.

In the locker room, we settle in and swap our sneakers or sandals for cleats. No shoes have ever fit me better than these. And none have ever been through more Big Moments with me.

I jog out to the field with my team. Bright stadium lights flood the green grass. It’s been freshly mowed. Straight lines stripe the field, and the smell permeates the chilly night air. The first spectators start to make their way into the bleachers.

Teagan leads us through jogging and stretches. Then we move into our passing drills and finally shooting and defending drills. Offense doesn’t feel so scary to me anymore.

I try not to think about how Rhoads had everything to do with that. I force myself to pay attention to the field and not check the bleachers again. Charlotte, Anita, and my parents will arrive soon, if they haven’t already. But I’ll see them after.

A few minutes before the game starts, the student sections for each team begin their chants. Their voices blend into a mishmash that’s impossible to separate into discernible words.