Page 70 of Every Move You Make

“So what else is going on?” she asks, oblivious to the husk of a man next to her.

“I was invited to a training camp with the London Hornets next month,” I say despondently. It’s funny, I imagined myself telling her this exact thing today but with a much different attitude.

“ZAY!” she screams, throwing her beer on the ground and tackling me. “That’s amazing!”

She may have just unknowingly broken my heart, but I can’t sulk when she’s this happy. “Yeah,” I chuckle.

“Do you want to play pro after school?” she asks, and we shift ourselves back into a sitting position.

“I think I’m going to give it a shot,” I admit.

“Good! God, that’s incredible. I’mso jealous. How do you feel?”

“Nervous, honestly.”

“I bet. But think about what an opportunity this is! You’re going to do great. There isn’t a better prop playing at the college level that I’ve seen. You’re gonna crush it.”

Her positivity is infectious and it soothes my wounds, like she's my own personal Tiger Balm. “Will you still talk to me when I’m famous?”

“That’s the spirit!”

1.Waitby Alexi Murdoch

Chapter 30

Home Game

Robyn

“Welcome to the field your USA Valor!” The announcer booms through the stadium speakers and we all burst out of the tunnel like a confetti cannon. I wave my hands in the air to get the crowd pumped and I roar along with them.

South Africa took the field first and was on the pitch waiting for us. It feels good to be on home soil for today’s game. I’m rested, my lipstick and braids are on point, and I think I’ve done a bang-up job infusing my team with the energetic attitude we all need.

I’m ready to kick some ass.

After this game, we have a three-week break before our final game of the summer, and a small group of us are going on a girls’ trip to the Outer Banks. The team has been going for the last nine years for bonding as well as some much needed relaxation.

But right now, all of that is forgotten as we set up in a flat line for kick off. I spot Isaiah and Coach Bob on the sidelines. In crisp slacks and a dress shirt, Zay’s looking sharp and sophisticated, like a man with a plan. I noticed a slight change in his coaching style after I confronted him at the bar. He certainly growled less, despite our continued confusion during phase play. I hope it clicks today. I want to make him proud.

Suddenly my eyes catch on someone sitting in the stands right above our coaches.

Dell’s here.Butterflies erupt in my belly and my mind shifts to the sweet and salacious moments we’ve shared.Focus!

Serwaa lines up and dropkicks the ball to begin the game as we all charge toward South Africa in a flat line. One of South Africa's backs catches the ball and sprints toward her goal line. Before that can happen, I wrap up around her waist and haul her down, making the first tackle of the game.

The crowd lights up in cheers, and several of my teammates do the same as I quickly stand up and sprint for the next phase.

That’s the last positive thing I hear before the other team gets the ball out of the ruck and down to the edge of the field where their winger makes a breakaway through our line and scores a try—not even five minutes into the game.

I can hear Isaiah bellowing, “That was your tackle, Skirt! Come on! Get there!”

After that, it’s a fucking domino effect of negativity that I’m trying uselessly to counteract. Casshole is chirping at Khaos for not getting the ball to the back line sooner. Skirt is chirping at Serwaa for not being deep enough in the offensive line. Isaiah is barking at everyone.

My encouraging words are not meeting anyone’s ears.

In the second half, Toni is able to exploit a gap and score our one try and Serwaa kicks to make the conversion. When I chance a look over to our coaches, Isaiah simply has his arms folded then gives a perfunctory clap. “Set it up, Valor!”

That’s it? South Africa is kicking our asses and we finally make a good play, and that’s all we get from him? Why isn’t he getting it? We need him to cheer us on. Where is my supportive friend?

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