The bleachers shake as Rowan bounces beside me. The Frost Lake hockey team scores a goal, and the crowd is on their feet, including Rowan, who fuels all his adrenaline for our upcoming soccer game into cheering.
I clap and cheer along with the rest of my friends and teammates, but I can’t summon any real excitement. The district tournament starts this weekend. It’s the beginning of what we all hope is a long month of soccer that ends with us hoisting up another State Championship trophy.
The season has been filled with ups and downs, but we’re playing better than ever, and everyone is anxious to prove we’re still the best team in the state.
No one feels the pressure to prove themselves more than me. It’s my third year on varsity and first as captain. It feels like my entire life has been leading up to this. My first shot to show people that the son of soccer legend Jude Collins isn’t some wannabe, no-talent nepo baby.
“We are going to dominate Brayson this weekend,” Rowan says as he sits back down. All night it’s been nonstop chatter about our upcoming soccer game.
“Their goalie has made some mean saves this season,” Austin says.
“Nothing like Pacific’s goalie. We’ll most likely face him in the State Semifinals at some point if we make it that far,” Rowan adds.
Eddie Whitlock turns slightly from the bleacher in front of us and over his shoulder says, “Whenwe make it that far.”
The guys continue talking about our upcoming gameswhile we watch Frost Lake’s hockey team extend their lead. By the end of the second period, it’s five to zero. Most of the crowd trickles out at intermission. Austin and I are all that’s left of the team; the rest are hitting up the concession or heading home early.
I should go home and study, but that doesn’t really seem to be helping me. True, I could have put more effort in earlier in the semester, but since I’ve really buckled down, it hasn’t made a bit of difference.
Austin slides closer to me, but his gaze is on the ice where the hockey cheerleaders, including Claire, skate out to the center.
Music starts up and they skate to complicated choreography that has the remaining fans smiling and clapping. Claire’s a talented figure skater. I have no doubt she would have made it to the Olympics if it weren’t for some injuries that ultimately forced her to quit. She recently joined the hockey cheer squad, and while the others are pretty good skaters, all eyes are on her as she pulls one leg up behind her and spins around in a quick, tight circle to end the number.
Austin stands and cups his hand around his mouth. “Wooo! Go, Claire!”
She glances over at him when she comes to a stop, looking embarrassed and giddy all at once. The cheerleaders exit off the ice the same way they came.
“She was fire, right?” Austin asks, still standing and clapping.
“Yeah. She was great.” I chuckle softly at his enthusiasm.
“Sorry if that’s weird.” He offers a slightly apologetic smile as he faces me.
The crowd won’t let up, screaming and clapping for all the cheerleaders, but especially Claire. People are excited towatch someone of her caliber skate, even if it’s just for a few minutes between hockey periods.
Claire eventually steps back onto the ice to the standing ovation and waves her thanks.
Austin goes back to calling out her name and whistling, and I think about what he said. Is it weird that he’s dating my ex-girlfriend? Sometimes. Like now, when he’s practically beaming at her. Did I ever look at Claire like that? It was different for us. Maybe it’s because she was my first love or maybe I was just that bad of a boyfriend. I don’t know. But I do know she seems happier since they got together.
I think what I feel is melancholy more than anything else. Claire’s great. If I couldn’t make it work with her, then it feels like maybe the problem is me. I don’t know if I could ever be that kind of boyfriend girls want, but it doesn’t matter, because between soccer and school there isn’t a lot of available time for anything else.
When the applause finally dies down and Claire exits the ice for good, Austin sits back beside me.
“No,” I tell him when he looks at me expectantly. “As long as you don’t start telling me all the details about hooking up with her, I think I can manage.”
“Deal,” Austin says, smirking.
We fall quiet for a moment. My buddy leans back, resting against the empty bleacher behind us. “You’ve been pretty quiet tonight. Are you worried about the game against Brayson?”
“No.” I shake my head. “If we play like I know we’re capable of, then I’m confident we can win.”
“But?” His brows inch up. “I feel like there’s abutcoming.”
A smile loosens my lips. Even though he only joinedthe team at the beginning of this season, Austin’s been a great addition. We have a similar level of focus and dedication. Some guys play because they’ve always played. Their parents signed them up as kids and they’ve just kept playing. Others love the team aspect of soccer but don’t want to put in the work it takes. But Austin is a rare talent who loves it and wants to spend every day working to get better. Honestly, having him on the team makes me feel more normal.
My dad may have put a ball in my hands at a young age, but there’s nothing I love more than soccer, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep playing for as long as I can.
“I’m not worried about Brayson,” I say more definitively.
