in a world where a sweet girl tries to be her best, she gets pushed down by those around her. she thought going to California for the goodwill games was supposed to be the time of her life, but her teammates made sure that wasn't possible. back in W...
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F O S T E R G R A Y
-team usa vs Iceland, game 2 -part 4
I sat in my locker Dean's earphones in my ears and his phone at my side. My head was pounding from all of the loud noise, and my teammates were still rowdy from the period they had just played.
Cheering caused me to snap awake. I looked in front of me seeing Coach Bombay enter the locker room, his hands shoved in his front pockets.
Tiredly, I took the earphones out of my ears and set them on my stool. I got out from my locker and stood up, placing my tired hands on my hips. I looked at Coach as he continued to talked.
"Well so did they," he said. I was confused, but I still listened. "So did they because they're still up by three and were one period away from defeat."
Everyone's expressions faded. I took a seat back in my locker. Beside me, Adam grabbed my hand tightly. He knew I wasn't feeling well.
"Well if we can't beat them we might as well keep our pride," Jesse defensed, shrugging his shoulders. I sighed. I started to rub my thumb lightly on the top of Adam's hand that sat on my lap.
"That wasn't pride, Jesse," Coach said. "Sure when Dwayne roped Olaf, part of me cheered. Believe me, I wanted to cream that guy who busted my knee in the minors, too. And I really wanted to get Stansson back," he shook his head slowly. "My knee will heal. But if I become someone I'm not, if I sink to their level, I've lost more than just my knee," I glanced over at Adam. Coach was right. "We're not goons, were not bullies. No matter what people say or do, we have to be ourselves."
Coach looked over at me, tipping my head in his direction. He was right. I needed to be myself. I shouldn't be scared of my teammates. Just, be myself. I nodded my head.
Coach Bombay sent me a small smile before placing his hands on his hips.
"Who are you?" He asked me. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Foster Gray," I responded. Coach Bombay spoke with pride. He was up to something.
"From where?"
"..Point Place, Wisconsin," I answered. Coach nodded over to Dean, asking the same question.
"Dean Portman.., uh, Chicago, Illinois," he answers confused. He now pointed to Guy.
