Momentum

Bambi.

The answer to the rhetorical question posed by Kelly was, unfortunately, very bad.

Foudy begins practice with conditioning, during which I have very minimal interaction with my teammates. I make eye contact with Christen a few times, and each time I expect to see dismay or anger or a devastating mixture of the two. But instead, she looks at me with nothing in her eyes, and that is somehow so much worse. It's not a hostile stare, but a kind of poker face; the kind of stare you give someone when you do not want to let them in.

"Alright," says Foudy after having us complete an ungodly amount of suicides. "Pair up and pass, and then we'll take some time to work on set pieces."

Christen and Kelly pair up like they always do; there's no tension between them to discourage them from doing so. Alex looks at me and, after seeing that I'm too scared to approach her myself, rolls her eyes in a surprisingly affectionate way and takes the initiative to walk over to me.

"Come on, Toby."

I don't question her willingness to be my partner; I just follow her to the other end of the pitch, grateful that she said a word to me at all. But this sense of relief is short-lived, as she keeps her eyes glued to the ball as we pass to avoid looking at me, making it harder for me to gauge how she's feeling.

". . . She needs you . . . The only reason she's avoiding you is because she doesn't want to come between you and Christen . . ."

I want to be there for Alex, but she's only going to push me away if she thinks that there's something romantic going on between Christen and I. I have to let her know that Christen and I are just friends - and that it's going to stay that way.

Now, telling her that we can only be friends . . . that's going to be the real hard part. Not only because it's going to hurt her if she still wants to be with me, but because scraping the words off my tongue when I've been in love with her for years is bound to be painful. Just imagining it makes my chest feel tight, as though my all of my desire and guilt and anxiety has taken a tangible form inside my lungs.

The sound of a whistle draws the team's attention to one of the goalposts, where Foudy is summoning us with a wave of her hand. I trail behind Alex as we walk over there, worried that she wouldn't follow me if I were to take the lead. She doesn't look back at me once.

"Okay, ladies," says Foudy, holding up a whiteboard with a rudimentary goal and black Xs and Os drawn on it. "We're going to run through this play a few times. I know it's a little more complicated that the plays we usually run, so don't worry about doing it perfectly; right now, I just want to get you guys comfortable moving around in the box."

After our coach explains what she has drawn, those involved in the play go to their designated spots in front of the goal. The play itself only involves six players, with Alex and Christen playing the forwards and Lindsey, Ally, Rose, and I playing the midfielders. In an actual game, the defenders would remain back to stop the opposing team from executing a breakaway, so those who make up our backline get to relax and watch how the play is executed from the sidelines, along with the other members of the team who aren't involved in the play.

Before calling for the corner kick, Foudy takes a second to talk to Pinoe. I see the coach nod towards the box, and Pinoe's eyes dart to Alex and Christen as she nods slowly, her expression serious. I connect the dots almost immediately; Foudy is explaining why she's running the play with Alex and Christen, despite the fact that Pinoe will undoubtedly be part of the attacking squad in an actual game. I wish I was close enough to hear the coach's explanation, as her decision to leave Pinoe out of the exercise doesn't make much sense now that I think about it.