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“All right,” I said after a deep breath, letting the nerves puff out of me. “Get it out of your systems now.”

“I would but I don’t have any party poppers. Congrats on making an honest woman of your girl.” He got up and clapped me on the back, the other’s getting up to do the same.

“Glad y’all got your shit together before Rosa started making plans,” Jimenez said.

“It’s probably a relief to have that sorted out before the baby gets here. Plus y’all’re good together,” Taylor said.

“Wait, why do you think a hickey means we’re together?” I asked between their little quips of celebrating my relationship.

“’Cause you’re not the kind of man to get a hickey from someone you’re not dating,” Brooker said, looking at me like that was the most obvious thing and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I—you know what? Thank you. You all made Leah feel welcome on this team and I think that made her comfortable enough to consider being with me for real. I know I’ve been a little … out of touch lately, not as involved as I … figured shit out. And I really appreciate what you guys have done for me and … my new family. And I’m sorry that I’m not as ready for this game as I should be.”

“Dude, don’t get sappy on us,” Noah said, even as he sniffled while coming in for a hug.

“You haven’t been out of touch,” Kean said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve just been finding a new balance. It’ll take some time, but you’ve got us to cover for you while you figure it out.”

“Thanks, Kean.”

“And if it’s all right to point out,” Sharma cut in. “I don’t think you’ve slacked off, even though you have a perfectly valid reason to pull back. You’ve done everything I expect of a team captain.”

“Except for giving us a good championship prep talk,” Sosa joked and Coach cringed but nodded in agreement.

“Sir?” I said, laughing a little. It dawned on me then that I hadn’t really gotten to know Sharma that well. When he started, I was focused on not reacting poorly to all the changes happening and letting go of the way I did things so he could be our proper coach. And then everything happened with Leah and I was barely holding on to my responsibilities, let alone the nicety of knowing my coach. That was something I needed to rectify before next season.

“Well.” He shrugged. “The speech is kinda the biggest captain responsibility.”

“We’ll give you a pass though, ’cause we don’t need a pep talk,” Alvarez said, winking at me the way Brooker did whenever he was being cheeky. I shook my head, laughing at the way this team had become a real family this year.

“You’re right, we don’t need a speech, because we’re going to—” I put my hand in the center of everyone and they all followed and yelled with me, “Fuck ’em up, fuck ’em up!”

The Big Game

Leah

Iexpected my first soccer game to be something like the one baseball game I went to as a kid. Sweaty, climbing up to the highest seat, and a pervasive smell of hot dogs. This was completely different.

One, we were in Washington state in December. There was snow everywhere, piles as big as cars lined every road we passed on the way to the stadium. And the stadium wasn’t indoors, so all that kept us warm was the four layers of tops I had on and the heat lamp things Kodi assured me were built in somewhere.

Two, we didn’t have to climb to the top of the stadium, we were seated right behind the coach and the benched players. It was an incredible view of the men stretching and doing all the general warm-up shit. But I couldn’t help but notice that there were enclosed rooms behind us, rooms that weren’t exposed to the wind and the big fluffy flakes of snow that were falling. I asked Kodi and Rosa why we weren’t in those rooms and both of them looked at me like I committed sacrilege. I couldn’t help but miss Emily; I had the feeling that despite having lived in New York, she’d be on my side in the "warm seats are better" argument.

And finally, there were no hot dogs. Well, there probably were, but there wasn’t anyone wandering through the stands selling them. There weren’t any vendors like that, instead the stands were filled with thousands of people in jerseys and waving scarves around like maniacs. Kodi explained that the scarves were a thing, nearly as common as jerseys, but I didn’t get it.

“Oh, wait, I brought you cards,” Kodi said, jumping up to pull out two plastic cards from the outer pocket of her fanny pack. “These are for you to wave at the ref.”

“Uh-huh.” I took the red and yellow cards with a gloved hand, tilting them back and forth like I’d understand what they were if I looked at them at the right angle.

“It’s what the ref uses when marking fouls and shit,” Rosa explained. “It’s pretty common for more … intense fans to hold them up when a ref doesn’t call something, like the other team grabbing shirts and pulling folks.”

“The Tawdries are a bunch of assholes and play dirty. We’ll need them.”

“Kodi’s one of those intense fans,” Rosa said, leaning over Kodi to whisper to me. “I never watch the games I can’t go to and I sure as fuck don’t remember which teams foul more often.”

“Seriously?” Kodi gaped. “You didn’t see how rough Tacoma was during their match? And they seemed particularly aggressive toward Carter.”

Rosa’s expression went from gentle ribbing to deadly serious. “For real?”

“If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.” Kodi shrugged and they finished together, “Then it’s a racist-ass duck.”