Rock Bottom Girl(68)

The clock was ticking down. Ties meant overtime, and I didn’t know if we had it in us. At least the crowd was more invested this half, and the attention seemed to feed my players.

Angela executed a sliding tackle with the precision of a pro and did a little celebratory shimmy when she popped back up. The crowd hooted its approval.

There was one minute left in the game, and I had no fingernails left to chew.

“One minute, ladies,” I yelled, clapping my hands.

It didn’t look good for us. A Blue Jay snaked her way around our midfield and started charging for the goal. I slapped a hand over the heart that was trying to explode out of my chest. Angela must have heard my fervent prayers. She stepped in front of the runaway forward and got mowed down.

I was already halfway to her when the ref whistled me onto the field.

“Angela! Are you alive?” She was crumpled on the grass, but her eyes were open. She had two perfect cleat marks on her cheek.

“Did I stop her?” she asked, rolling onto her side.

“Like a brick freaking wall,” I said.

One of the EMTs huffed and puffed over to us. She dropped a medical bag on the ground. The team huddled up a short distance away while we made sure Angela wasn’t concussed or missing any limbs.

There was a good-natured cheer when we got her back on her feet to hobble off the field.

Angela stopped and faced the team. “Don’t let my sacrifice be in vain. Win this, bitches,” she said.

Ruby approached and put her hand on Angela’s shoulder. “We will win this for you, Cleat Face.”

“Oh my God. Let’s just finish the game, okay?” I said, slapping an ice pack on Angela’s face.

The ref awarded us an indirect kick for the foul with twenty seconds left on the clock.

I dumped Angela on the bench where she received a hero’s welcome and returned to Vicky’s side.

“This is it,” she said.

“Yep.”

“Do you want a drink?” she asked.

“I don’t think water is going to calm me down.”

Without looking away from the field, Vicky unzipped her fanny pack. “I got tequila minis in here. For emergencies.”

I laughed, loud and long. I was still laughing when our defense took the kick. One of our midfielders got it and fired it up the field to Libby.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. Ten seconds.

Libby worked her fancy footwork around a defender and snuck closer to the goal. I grabbed Vicky’s arm, my fingers stabbing into her flesh. She had me around the neck in a chokehold.

Libby looked up at the goal and then away.

“What is she doing?” Vicky screeched.

Five…four…three…

She kicked the ball, sending it straight to Ruby’s feet at the top of the penalty box. Ruby didn’t bother trapping it, she just swung away with that long-ass leg of hers.

The buzzer signaled the end of the game and warred with the shouts of the crowd. I didn’t hear either. I was too busy screaming my freaking head off because the ball—that glorious, glorious ball—was in the back of the net. The Barn Owls had their W. I had my victory.

Vicky and I charged the field with the rest of the girls. The JV team jumped the short fence and joined us in our ecstatic sprint. We collided, a big, blue pile of screaming estrogen on the goal line. Varsity, JV, first string, second string, coaches, players. For that moment, that shining, victorious moment, we were all one.

Somehow we made it to midfield and lined up to high-five the Blue Jays.

“Nice game, Coach. Girls looked great out there tonight,” the Blue Jays coach told me.

“Thank you,” I said. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if I tried.

Then I was being turned around and lifted off the ground.

“You did it, Mars!” Jake swung me around under the stadium lights, and everything was just about perfect.





On our way out, we were stopped every ten feet by fans. My players were thrilled, their parents were ecstatic, and according to Haruko, the faculty was happy that I finally shoved a W in Coach Vince’s face. He’d left abruptly in the third quarter when it became apparent that a blow-out was not going to happen.

I didn’t know when Lisabeth and Steffi Lynn ducked out, and I didn’t care enough to ask.

“This is so great!” Vicky said, strutting toward the concession stand to see if they had any leftover nachos. “I mean, not only did you get to shove this in that Neanderthal’s face, you also got to show Steffi Lynn how to coach.”

“Why would she care?”

Vicky stopped in her tracks. “No one told you?”

“Told me what?” I looked over my shoulder for Jake. He was in conversation with one of his students.

“She’s the one who took over coaching when their coach died last season.”

“Steffi Lynn is Hitler?” Once again, I realized too late that I needed to have my epiphanies more quietly when a dozen heads swiveled in my direction.

Vicky clamped a hand on my arm and dragged me a few steps away.

“I thought you knew! She went all dictator on them and made Lisabeth the queen of the evil universe.”

“Why doesn’t anyone tell me this shit?” I whined. “I could have done a lot better with this whole ‘Hey, I’m your new coach. I swear I’m not an ass’ thing!”