It doesn’t work.
She shoots and it comes right into my hands. I snatch it up, clutching it tightly.
“Yeah, I’m a little bored,” I tell her, grinning as I move to the other corner of my box. I wait and watch for my teammates to get into position before I punt the ball down the field.
“You know that trash talk only works if you’re winning,” a Gotham player calls from just outside my box.
“We are,” I tell her with a cocky smile on my face.
“It’s zero-zero,” she points out, her voice dripping with attitude.
“Not for long,” I say as I watch my team charging up the field with possession of the ball.
“Hendrix, stop playing with them and focus on the field,” I hear Jase call to me.
I shake my head but send him a thumbs up. “But I’m not bullying, I’m educating.”
Dana hears this and turns around, chuckling. “I like it, Hendrix, keep on getting in their heads.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I call up to her.
“Everybody in the defense needs to focus right now!” Coach Jase yells at us.
He hates it when I talk to the defense and trash-talk the players. It knocks them off their game and forces them to make a mistake. Just like the shot that the player tried to fire at me. Didn’t work; I was able to save it.
I nod in his direction, hoping that he sees me. I stay in my box, watching the offense playing with Gotham’s defense. Mac gets a shot off but, unfortunately, it’s caught by the Gotham keeper. She’s good, I’ll give her that. With the speed Mac fired that ball, I’m not sure I would have caught it.
A few plays later, the same winger who shot on me before is running back towards me. She’s bold or stupid for charging on me so quickly. I’m not sure which.
She’s stupid.
Very stupid, I decide, when I see her shooting the ball from too far out and with not enough power on it.
The ball rolls to a stop right in front of me. It didn’t even have enough power to make it near the goal. I trap it between my feet and flick it with my toe, causing the ball to pop up into the air. I catch it.
I watch her carefully and ask her, “Really?”
The forward shrugs. “I had to try.”
“You shouldn’t have. You didn’t have the shot,” I say with a grin.
I punt the ball up the field, watching and waiting for the Blaze players to regain position of the ball. Thankfully, they do.
From the Gotham bench, I hear someone shout, “Stop letting them embarrass you!”
The forward whose shots I keep catching calls, “I’m trying.”
She can’t hear but I talk to her anyway, “You’re doing great, sweetheart.” I say, my tone thick with sarcasm.
It earns me a grin from some of my defenders. “You’re so funny,” Dana calls to me.
“Thanks!”
My happiness is short-lived as Gotham pushes up the field again. That same fucking forward is charging down the right side with way too much confidence for someone who’d already been shut down twice. I step forward in my box, gloves flexing, eyes locked on the ball.
The forward looks up and smirks. “I’m going to get you back for earlier!”
I just shake my head. “You can certainly keep on trying.”
