Game Theory × NH

009 | fluorine

× Mercury

Midnight on Saturday, or Sunday depending on how you looked at it, was finally settling in that I was going to London. Even though it was dawning on me that I was leaving, it was still really, really hard to grasp. I mean, going from the city I've grown up in with the beaches and palm trees to a place that was always gloomy and a million miles away from my friends and family seemed like a huge mistake. And maybe it was, but I wouldn't know that if I just stayed in LA. It was about time I took some risks.

All my bags were packed (all twenty of them, though I was sadly informed that I would have to leave some behind), all the paperwork to transfer was signed (a long, boring process that I probably should have added onto my pro and con list), my physical with the family doctor gave me the O-K to play with the boys was finished (I really hated blood work and almost chickened out right then and there), and the only thing left were the goodbyes (something I've been dreading from the second I hung up with Coach Mathews three days ago).

I sighed heavily, looking around my room one last time.

The clock was ticking down to my departure as I grabbed my carryon bag. My friends and Grandma were waiting for me outside to say our goodbyes.

I barely made it through the threshold before my phone started to ring. I've been getting calls and text all day from my friends and teammates to congratulate me and to wish me luck. I even received a text from Lucy saying that I would do amazing in London. She also didn't fail to slip in another apology from a few days before, but I ignored her text like I did with her other ones.

I hadn't talked to Lucy since I caught her with Bradley. I was sure she was at soccer practice yesterday, but I didn't go because I was busy with my physical and packing. I saw her once in the hall on campus, but I kept looking forward and didn't give her the time of day. I was being harsh, but could you honestly blame me?

Bradley had been blowing up my phone as well, leaving voice mails and sappy texts. I even built up my courage to test my willpower and listened to his voice messages, each one of them sounding sad and desperate, always ending with a broken "I need you". But this time I didn't go running back to him. This time I deleted his messages and moved on.

Just as my phone was about to stop ringing, I took it out of my pocket and smiled at the caller ID.

"Hey, kiddo," Coach Sharp said into the receiver. "I was just calling to wish you luck."

I smiled, happy to hear my coach. "I wouldn't even have this opportunity if it wasn't for you."

"That's not true," she confessed. "You're an amazing soccer player; you would have been snatched up even if you were on a different team."

"If I'm such an amazing player, then why don't I just stay here and hope for the best?" I challenged. I was still having doubts about going to London and it almost made me sick to think that I would probably always have that doubt... that what if I had stayed in LA?

"Security," Coach said shortly. "Staying here would always have that chance of not making it big no matter how many people told you differently. Going to London gives you that security that's guaranteed. Your mom was the same way, you know. Always wanted that safety net."

I smiled, knowing that was the truth. "I'm just imaging what Mom would say to me leaving," I laughed, knowing it would be around the lines of: You're making a rash decision! Why in the world would you go across the world to play soccer!? You're just like your father!