The rookie

Part 1

Today was any normal day. I wake up, make breakfast, clean, get beat. No like literally. A plate that I had just washed was "dirty". This gained me a nice rosey face slap. My favourite. Then I didn't make enough breakfast, Charlotte was still hungry after two sausage baps. I haven't even eaten yet. Yet this caused Andrew to beat me to the floor, kicking my ribs. Yup that one is gonna hurt later on. As soon as all my "duties" were done I knew I had had to get out the house. One more second spent in there is going to make me snap. I grab my football boots that Helen and David bought me and my football and ran out the house, before Charlotte or Andrew could stop me. I went straight to the furthest field from home. The irony of it being in the poshest part of the Milton Keynes, if there even is a posh part in Milton Keynes.

As soon as I arrive I throw on my football boots and place my very worn out trainers by the goal post. Straight away I start warming myself up, dribbling the ball up and down the field. As soon as I started the pain in my ribs reminded me of my "injuries", but that's still not enough to stop me from playing. After dribbling the ball for a while I focus on my aim, and shooting. One part of only training by yourself is that you are limited to what you can practice. With David I could practice everything, tackling, protecting the ball, everything. Now it's just me and my lonely self.

I used my trainers placing them in certain positions on the grass as "defenders". I immediately start the drill, dribbling the ball past one trainer, rainbow flicking it over another, then before the ball could even hit the ground, volley into top bins, back of the net. I smile contently at myself. I go over the drill a couple more times until I'm happy that I could perform it without making a mistake.

After a while I start getting bored. I have done all the drills that one person could do. And I've done them about 5 times each. I must have been here for hours. But being at the pitch is better than at home. I start doing kick ups, trying to set a new record for myself whilst occasionally including the odd around the world. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10... I lost count after 54, after a couple more I kick the ball high into the air and volley it into the back of the net from the halfway line. I smiled at myself content again.

All of a sudden I heard clapping from behind me. An older woman, who seems to be standing at the edge of the pitch.

"You know that was quiet impressive" she calls out before starting to walk over to me. Her accent not from England.

"It was just luck if anything, how long have to been standing there?" I quickly reply wanting to know how much she saw.

"I've been here for a couple of hours, just sat on that bench over there" she pointed a behind her to the bench overseeing the whole field, "you've been out here for almost 5 hours just practicing, that's quiet something"

"Yeah well 5 hours isn't enough for me, but I best start to head back" I reply noticing the time on my watch, yet she still continued asking questions:

"Do you play for a team?" And to this question I scoffed,

"A woman's football team, are you kidding me? That's like finding gold dust, in fact no, gold dust would be easier to find" I started removing my football boots and replacing them with trainers.

"I manage a woman's football team. Do you mind me asking how old you are?" My eyes immediately lit up after hearing this, I rush to my feet before looking her in the eyes,

"I'm 18, 19 next year in February." My reply sounded hopeful, maybe even needy.

"Perfect. My striker actually just got injured two days ago and I'm in dire need of someone to fill in her shoes." The anticipation is killing me.

"Yeah" I said waiting for her to go on,

"How would you like to join a couple training sessions. I cannot guarantee your place on the team, but I guess you could call it a trail of sorts." She looked at me as I was about to freak out.

"Wait you're being serious, like this is for real? You actually want me to train with you and your team?"

"Deadly serious" she replies with a straight face, which almost makes me chuckle.

"Yes, a hundred time yes!" I practically scream at her jumping up and down "sorry" I try compose myself again "yeah please" I say this time much more calm. She chuckles.

"Where we train is a little far out from here, I'll get someone to pick you up in two days time. Also to let you know it's more of a training camp, then a session. You will be stopping in a hotel for a little over a week whilst training with us, if that's ok?" All of a sudden reality kicks in. My adopted parents are not going to like that. I'll probably even get kicked out the house, if I return, it wouldn't be pretty. She must have saw the change of moods in my face, "I know a week can be a long time but all expenses are paid, but if it's too much just..." before she could finish the sentence I interrupted,

"No, god no, spending the whole week playing football is like a dream for me, it's just..." I trail off thinking of the consequences of when I return back from camp, the beatings, but playing for a football team has always been a dream for me. This is my chance to prove everyone who doubted me wrong. Would the beating be worth it? I hadn't realised how much I blanked out for until she spoke up again,

"It's just?" She questions me,

"It's just nothing" it's best if I keep quiet about home life, "I would love to join you and your team for the week" I reply with a. Happy smile.

"Great! Here is my number, I'll send you the details, and don't pack heavily, some equipment would be provided once you arrive"

"Quick question" I interrupt her again, "sorry for interrupting but umm, do I need parental consent or anything" her eye brows furrowed, like she was trying to figure me out.

"No, you're of the legal adult age, are you not" she replied cautiously,

"Yeah right, im 18, sorry" I quickly turned my head to look at my feet.

"Great I'm Sarina by the way, you have my number, message me your address and I'll send a car to pick you up in two days time" she smiles as she walks away. Sarina, what an unusual name.

I trudged my way home making sure to hide my boots and ball in the garden before entering the hell household, preparing myself for the beatings.