I shift to sit upright. “Like I’ve sat too long and my legs fell asleep.”
She stands back, putting her hands on her hips. “And how long has this been going on?”
At least a week.But I see my parents—Dad’s jaw tightening, while Mom frets. “A few days,” I answer, wanting to convey the gravity of the situation while also not making too much of a fuss.
The trainer grabs her clipboard and makes a note. “You know, it could be a pinched nerve.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I nod like I know what she’s talking about. “How would that work?”
“There could be too much pressure on a nerve somewhere like your lower back,” she explains. “It can go away on its own with rest or massage. But if it continues too long or gets worse, definitely go see your doctor.”
“I’ve got some potassium, Jackson,” my mom says, holding up a bottle of capsules, since for some reason, she was already carrying it around in her purse. “And I can think of a few yoga moves that might help stretch it out when we get home.”
“Okay.” I stand from the table, wincing as I place my feet on the ground. As I expected, there’s nothing to do but wait it out. No use worrying about it. But I do need to start brainstorming excuses so that I won’t have to sit in on an exercise class full of bored housewives.
The game must’ve ended pretty quickly after my fall—there’d only been a minute or so left on the clock—since Darius is now walking into the room.
“Did we—” I start to ask, but my cousin’s solemn shrug gives it away.
We lost.
We should’ve won, but we lost. The teams were too evenly matched for Amber to gain back any momentum in so little time.
“Well, I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell my parents, eager to get away from my father’s unamused gaze.
“Are you doing all right, though?” Darius removes the sweatband from his forehead, shaking out his Persian curls inherited from my aunt. “Want me to grab your stuff?”
“Nah, I got it.” I shrug, not sure how to explain what happened. “And I think I’ll be fine.” We head to the locker room while the assistant coach hangs back to chat with the trainer.
“Dang, Uncle Roberto was not having it,” Darius comments once he’s sure my parents are long out of earshot.
“I once caught him in the garage trying to stitch up a gash on his own leg. And then he just,” I say, while gesturing with my arms to display how ridiculous I found the situation, “continued his home workout.”
“That’s intense.”
My dad and I look similar—brown hair and eyes, tan complexion, lean and strong—but we couldn’t be more different. Though he’s never explicitly voiced it, I can tell my dad thinks soccer players tend to act fragile, feigning injury to get sympathy from referees. That’s not his style. He comes to every match to watch me play, happy to celebrate when we’re victorious, but he acts above it all whenever things don’t go our way.
As we rejoin the team, I regret not letting Darius grab my stuff for me. The guys are finding it impossible to hide their disappointment. We should be out celebrating a state championship, not moping in the locker room. With a mixture of confusion, resentment, and concern, my teammates glare at me, their towels hanging around their necks post-shower. A few dudes pat our shoulders as we walk past to our lockers, but since I lost the ball and my cousin let in the game-ending goal, it makes sense that the team isn’t exactly overflowing with sympathy right now. The sting of defeat is still too fresh.
“You look fine to me,” Liam says, getting up in my face.
“Sure…” When he doesn’t step aside, I shove against his shoulder.
He pushes back, causing me to lose my balance and crash back into the row of metal doors. “I’d go cry to the trainer, too, if I messed up that bad.”
What a jerk.I clench my teeth, telling myself to let go of it. I hate being a people pleaser. The kind of guy who never has a bad thing to say about anyone. Even if I might think it. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t know what you want me to say, man. We’ll be back next year.”
“Who’s gonna trust you on the field anymore?” Liam crosses his arms.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have let the game get that close in the first place,” I say. The next words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “They were crossing you up all game.”
I can tell my burn landed because Liam sneers, fumbling for a comeback. I grab my stuff and hurry out.
Part of what Liam said echoes in my head since I worry that he’s right. Can I trust myself on the field anymore? I thought I had everything under control, that I had what it took to play the match, and then my body just…gave up.
I have no doubt the team will make it back next year, but will I?
Chapter Three
