“Don’t worry.” I smile. “You’ll still have your hands full.”

The ref drops the ball, and I slam into her, my legs charged with some kind of juice, and I don’t know where it comes from, but I have to admit I’ve missed this.

Completing school work at home is lonely, and the last thing I needed this week is more quality time with Macon, but I’ve kept busy even though Macon was right. In some ways, my decision to withdraw and retreat had made perfect sense, but I also felt like I’d missed an opportunity.

Marymount isn’t the only challenge I’ll have in life. What happens next time? Most people, he’d once told me, don’t do great things, because great things don’t feel great when you’re doing them. I shouldn’t have run from them. I should’ve learned from them.

I snap the ball to Rodriguez who passes it to Sinclair, and I race ahead, covering her as she passes it to Amy. Amy leaps, catches the ball and swings, hitting the post, and the ball bounces out.

“It’s okay!” I shout, taking the lead, since our captain is busy warming her ass.

Play continues, Clay’s presence heavy on my right, but I refuse to look. I’m surprised she even showed up, but I suppose she had to in case someone gets injured. What the hell got her benched?

Dinah Leister from Gibbon’s Cross catches the ball and races toward our goal, but I dive in and snatch it, firing it over to Amy, running ahead just in time for her to shoot it back, and I snap it, holding my breath and watching as it rolls right into their goal.

“Yeah!” Krisjen shouts, our team celebrating.

Amy flips her stick around like a baton, all smiles, and I spare two seconds to feel the glow before I run back to get in play again.

Time moves fast, Gibbon’s Cross scoring one, and us scoring two more in the second.

I bang my stick on the ground. “Amy!” I shout.

She flashes her eyes to me, hits the ball just as someone knocks her to the ground, elbowing her head. I grab the ball, shooting it into the net, and more boos erupt from the stands.

I smile, but I don’t celebrate, running over and not thinking. I slam Costa in the shoulder while everyone is distracted, watching her land on the ground next to Amy and getting her comeuppance. This is the third time she’s done that to one of us, and the refs aren’t seeing it. Or pretending they’re not seeing it.

I pull Amy back to her feet. “Thanks,” she says.

I jog back down the field, throwing out my hands at the ref. “You gonna call something at some point?” I yell.

“Jaeger!” Coach yells, because I’m getting smart with the ref.

Fuck it. They’re throwing cheap shots. We win nothing taking the high road.

I look over, seeing Clay standing now, her arms folded over her chest, concern or tension etched across her brow.

I get back in the game, Ruby passing the ball to Krisjen and Krisjen passing it back quickly. “Liv!” she shouts, shooting it to me.

Second and third period passes, and I wipe the sweat off my forehead, hair loose from my ponytail tickling my neck. We’re up two goals, but everyone is exhausted and Gibbon’s Cross doesn’t always play their best players first. They’re about to get a second wind.

I debate for a moment and then walk over to Coach. “Bring Clay in,” I tell her. “Ruby’s exhausted.”

But Coach shakes her head. “I’ll make the decisions. Get back in the game.”

I hesitate, ready to argue, but they’re teeing off.

Running backward onto the field again, I growl at Clay, “So you just gonna sit there the whole night?”

Make her put you in the game. You can make anyone do anything, right?

But Clay just sits, her elbows on her knees, watching me. Making no move, like she’s given up.

Cross scores again, and we’re almost tied, all of us digging in our heels. I breathe hard, wanting this win so badly. I don’t want them to say I came back and they still lost. I’d have swallowed my pride for nothing.

Ang shoots the ball. I catch it, a Cross player on my hide, and I let out a yell, shooting the ball and watching it get past the goalie and into the net.

“Yeah!”

“Woohoo!”

Someone grabs onto my shoulder and about five people hug me. We’re back up two goals, and I glance at the clock, nine minutes left.

I run back to position, looking over at Clay. “That’s okay,” I taunt. “We’re doing fine. Never needed you.”

I smile, turning my eyes away, and resume play, but a minute later, I hear the whistle blow. Coach calls Ruby off the field, and I see Clay putting on her gear.

She heads right for me, brushing my shoulder as she passes. “Teammates doesn’t mean team.”

“Friendly ain’t friends,” I say.

“Just so we’re clear.”

Fuck yeah. We’re clear. Help me score, and you’re useful. Otherwise, you’re not.

We play, the ebb and flow of our game settling back into familiar territory as I look over and see Clay always there when I need her. She anticipates me, and I guess it’s from playing together so long, but I don’t have that dynamic with all the girls. I pass, she catches, she runs, and I cover her.

“Here!” I call.

She doesn’t hesitate. She passes me the ball, and I shoot it to Amy, Clay running ahead, taking the ball back and scoring.

Everyone cheers while the people in the stands boo, and Clay smiles, her friends jumping on her.

I pass her.

“Good job,” she tells me.

I blow spit out, it landing an inch from her shoe.

She looks down and then at me, her smile gone.

“You trashed my house,” I say as everyone moves into position around us. “You desecrated our flag.”

She doesn’t try to defend herself, and I don’t want her to. I’m just reminding her that we’re not a team.

“Liv!” someone yells.

Clay and I turn our heads, seeing Megan next to the coach, her blonde hair spilling out of her baseball cap and a look in her eyes that warns me not to get myself in trouble.

Clay waves at someone, and I follow her gaze, seeing Callum and his friends sitting on the hood of his car on the other side of the chain-link fence in the parking lot. He watches us with that look in his eyes that reminds me of what my lactose intolerance feels like when it kicks in.

“You didn’t feel like he does,” Clay whispers, moving in close as play starts around us. “You didn’t feel powerful.”

He felt powerful? He’s had her? I pause, staring at her. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s fucked him already. I don’t why I thought she hadn’t gone that far. Maybe because Clay Collins is such a priss, she wouldn’t want to get dirty.

She looks at me. “You can’t do to me what he can do.”

“I can do anything he can do,” I grit out. “You want me inside of you?”

I watch her eyes fall to my mouth, a hint of my tongue showing itself.

“You want to ride me?” I offer. “I can do anything you want.”

I can do anything to her a man can do.

“But I will never touch you,” I tell her, casting a glance to the sidelines and Megan. “I like her. She’s so ready.”