Chapter Seventeen

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Our team is co-ed with the addition of Wolfe, Briar, Peter and Percy. Briar is an art student with ballet pumps in her backpack. Peter has unbridled rage for organised sport. Wolfe is an excellent defender and Percy was a charity case.

We huddle together, moments away from facing the rest of the soccer team.

"Okay, I will defend the goal as best as I can while Wolfe strikes. No one do anything remotely like playing soccer." Steven barks orders.

Aubrey and I exchange a look. The strawberry-blonde is in her usual Nike shorts and top, but her face is unpainted, and her lips sucked between her teeth in nervous thought.

"We won't win against Soren, but we might not lose so epically."

Steven and Wolfe slink away, deciding it's useless to discuss tactics with the stand-by. The circle is broken, the light of the sun spilling into the centre. I put my arm around Peter and Percy and patch the break. We bend into the middle dramatically, forcing Briar and Aubrey to follow in suit.

"Ignore everything he just said," I tell them.

"Do you have a thing for underdog sport movies? There's no win at the end of this. It's going to be so humiliating." Aubrey hisses.

Briar nods sadly.

"None of us have ever played soccer before, Max."

"I don't even know the off-side rule." Peter grumbles.

I smile humorously, "You don't need to know it."

Percy nudges me, "Explain it just in case."

"It won't come up!" I snap, "Listen, Soren is predictable. He'll play Austin up front. Aubrey, you tag him. Never let the bastard leave your sight."

She rolls her eyes, but a small grin plays on her lips.

"Peter is striker. When the ref is not looking, go for the heels. Briar-midfielder. You spot Raul. He loves slide tackles, so make it look real when you go down."

"The aim is to get the football into their goal. If you're feeling inspired, you can try for a goal."

Percy lights up, "What about me?"

I give her a once over, trying hard not to sigh out loud. "Just follow me when I get the ball."

I put my hands in and Percy is eager to follow. Aubrey gingerly places her manicured hand over Percy's. The rest are a little more apprehensive.

"Guys," I grin, "You're forgetting. I'm European, I grew up playing football and have no qualms about cheating."

The whistle announces the start time. Coach begins the other game. It sparks on with clumsy footwork and passes. The teams are shouting like children. Fray is barking orders to his team, trying to keep some semblance of order.

"Prepare to lose, little brother." Soren is strolls to me with a cocky grin.

I return his arrogance. My brother eyes the field behind me, analysing the positions my players linger on.

"So predictable..." He says.

I grin.

"It's not going to work."

I eye the formation behind him. The order of his boys already foreseen.

I shake my head gravely, "So predictable."

We share a joke between us as Coach Turner glances at the two captains. He blows his whistle and then the ball is lost. Soren is quick, I'll give him that much. He hurtles past me with the ball at his feet. I find Raul before the ball does. He doesn't expect it. The pass is easily intercepted because it's how he starts every game. Soren is lazy playing the underdogs.

I run the opposite direction, already reaching the middle with Wolfe shouting at me to pass. I move with speed and precision, zigzagging around the first line of defence and pass it to the screaming striker.

I jump when Raul lunges to intercept. Rolling twice on the ground, I am already on my feet whilst the boy is cursing.

In the beating moments, Wolfe has since lost the ball to Austin who is unable to hurl it to Soren 100 m away because of a tenacious ex. Credit to the blonde, who makes no move to take the ball but is so sure of her own presence, that she blocks the player from moving further than three steps.

Peter seems to take the opening and tackle the boy from the side, brutally cutting his ankles and sending him skidding past the white chalk line.

Peter wails with the ball at his feet, two defenders sprinting at him.

I run ahead, "Pass it."

Soren has abandoned his perfect formation. It is chaos as the team switch to survival mode. The beating of the sun blazes down on us now. Sweat beads on the crook of my spine, slipping into the waistband of my underwear. I blink away the drops caught in my lashes and run backwards as a clumsy aim sends the football further than me.

I take the shot before my more skilful brother reaches me. The game is built on petty teen angst and red card tackles that work only once, before the opponent can read you.

A Brutus of a keeper is diving for the ball, gloves grazing the leather in an expert catch. It is futile. He did not expect to be on his feet this game, let alone block a goal. The force of the ball is enough to bend his fingers back and kiss the back of the net.

We win 2-0.


*

Let me know what you think of the new cover...

-M

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