Rock Bottom Girl(13)

“Hi, Mr. Weston,” Ruby yelled through cupped hands.

I spun around, breaking the hypnotic spell his sweaty pecs put me under and pretended my clipboard was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen in my life.

“Hello, ladies,” he called back.

Damn it. I remembered that voice. That rough, sandpapery edge to his words. Twenty years later, it was only hotter.

It was the August sun burning down on us that had my cheeks turning fifteen shades of bright red. Heat stroke. Definitely heat stroke.





“All right, people. Let’s talk sprints,” I said, clapping my hands to get their attention. Everyone had had time to rehydrate, wipe the sticky, salty sweat out of their eyes, and start gossiping. Now, it was time to break their spirits.

“Have you guys heard of ball busters?”

Ball busters were the worst invention in preseason ever. Players started on the far goal line and ran to the next white line on the field, then back to the goal line, then on to the next white line. Back and forth until they got to the opposite goal line. It was one long, grueling, miserable pushback. I was going to save these for next week, but their whining was starting to grate my nerves.

“I find that term offensive,” Sophie S. announced. At least I thought it was Sophie S. I couldn’t tell her and Sophie P. apart. Both fell into the same nondescript brown hair, brown eyes category I was in. One of them had curly hair. But I couldn’t remember which one. “We’re a girls team. I think we should name them after female anatomy,” she insisted.

“And something more empowering,” Morgan W. weighed in. “Busting doesn’t sound very positive.”

I closed my eyes. “All right. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

“Ovary Exploders!” Ruby suggested. Angela snorted derisively, and Ruby flipped her off. I was going to have to watch these two so their feud didn’t bubble over to the rest of the team.

“Vagina Victory!”

“Boob Battles!”

“You guys are idiots,” Miss Piggy Lisabeth snapped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” That last one came from me and was overheard by half of the team.

“Ooooh!”

“Okay. Okay. Let’s think of a name later.” I explained the premise to them and gleefully watched most of them look way too confident in their abilities. Ball busters—or boob battles—were miserable. Even the toughest athletes hated them.

“I think you should run them with us,” Ruby announced, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

Hell.

“Ooooh,” the rest of the team crooned.

The gauntlet had been thrown.

“Motion seconded,” one of the Sophies said.

“This is about your endurance. Not mine.”

“We’ve never done them,” Ruby said. “You need to show us.”

“It’s not that hard. You run line to line. Keep running until you run out of lines. Then we all get to go home.”

“All in favor of coach running with us?” Ruby called.

Every fucking hand went up except Angela’s. And I knew it wasn’t that she was trying to protect me. She just wanted to vote against Ruby. I felt something awfully close to fury well up in my belly. Or maybe that was pre-vomit.

“Fine,” I agreed. I could do this. It was only a couple hundred yards-ish. I was really bad at math. “I’ll run this one with you if you all promise to actually put some effort into the drills this afternoon.”

Yesterday, they’d giggled and sashayed and played their way through every footwork drill I dug up online. Pretending it was a party instead of practice.

“If you finish, we’ll participate,” Ruby negotiated.

I would finish this sprint if I had to drag my ass across the line on my hands and knees. They wouldn’t break me. At least, not on Day 2.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”





8





Marley





It was hotter than hot. My sneaker was going to melt on the line under the morning August sun. At least that was one thing I hadn’t screwed up. I hadn’t saved the running portion of our practices for the afternoon when temperatures would push into the high 90s.

“Remember, ladies. This is a sprint!” Yeah right. Most of them wouldn’t even be running by the time we got to the far penalty area.

“Ready? Set? Go!” I shouted. I made an effort to explode off of the line to at least make a good show of it. I’d let off as soon as the slower team members started to fall off. There was a point in ball busters when you couldn’t physically worry about anyone else. You were too exhausted to care if you were even alive.

There was a blur of legs, the thunder of feet muffled by grass as both junior varsity and varsity teams came off the line. I hid my grin as Ruby and one of the Sophies accelerated past everyone.

Ha. Just you wait, girls. Just you wait.

I touched the goal box line and ran back to the end line. Next was the penalty area line. Easy peasy. I felt a little rusty, but mostly okay. There had to be some muscle memory in this, right?

Ugh. Center circle was next. I should have let them skip the circle and just go to half field. But I was only thinking those thoughts because I was starting to feel winded. Ruby powered past me, and I swear to God she was humming a catchy little tune.