Page 4 of Stealing for Keeps
“So much for an apology,” I mutter.
“I’m sorry. I’m lost, and if I don’t find the soccer field soon, I’m going to be late for my first practice with Jude Collins.”
It takes me a second to register his words. When I do, I allow myself to study him more closely. I was so focused on his face and not becoming roadkill that I didn’t notice thesigns. Shorts, a faded T-shirt, sneakers, and a duffel bag over one shoulder. Right. A soccer player. Makes sense.
“Relax. You found it. The field is straight out back.” I refocus on my task of retrieving the glitter. I groan when I see the top of the tube popped off and glitter has spilled out onto the floor. A pretty good amount. I send a silent apology to the school custodians.
The guy in front of me is having some sort of moral dilemma. He stares down at me and then the back door before finally squatting down to help.
“Here, let me,” he says, trying to take the half-empty container.
“No, it’s fine,” I say a little gruffly. “I got it. You’re going to be late.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Seriously. I’ve got it.” I pull it back too hard, and a rainbow of colors bursts up into his face. It goeseverywhere. His hair, his eyelashes, the bridge of his straight nose, and his shirt.
I start to laugh, and then think better of it when his mouth falls open and he glances down.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he says more to himself than me, but then he hurriedly gets to his feet and rushes off, leaving a cloud of glitter as he goes.
The laughter I was holding in finally escapes, echoing in the empty halls.
He’s already pushing out the double doors that lead out to the field when I yell after him, “Don’t be afraid to sparkle!”
Chapter Two
Austin
My hero is scowling at me.
I drop my bag and stand at the back of the group. The guy next to me offers a reassuring chin jut. He’s the only one. Everyone else looks as annoyed with me as my new coach.
Coach Collins continues, removing his gaze from me, “We’re starting with skill stations in the groups I called off. Rotate around the field clockwise on the whistle. It’s day one. Don’t hold back. I want to see what you’re made of.”
He dismisses us with a nod. I groan. I can’t believe I missed the entire meeting.
Everyone starts to walk off, but then Coach Collins looks directly at me as he says, “One last thing.”
My skin prickles with unease. I’ve only met Jude Collins once before when my family visited Frost Lake earlier this spring. He let me forego the traditional tryouts for the team based on my stats and performance at my old school. He was friendly, all smiles that day.
Today he looks like he’s seriously regretting thatdecision. The look he gives me is the same one he used to give reporters after games when they’d ask combative questions to try to get a rise out of him. He never took the bait with words, but that look screams total and complete annoyance. Always cool and collected under pressure. So unlike me right now.
“Practices start at three o’clock sharp. The easiest way to ensure you get cut from this team is to show up late.”
No one moves, but I can feel their stares.
“That’s all. Let’s get to work.”
My new teammates break off into groups while I stand there, unsure of what to do. I’m definitely not asking.
“You’re Austin Keller, right?”
I turn to see the same guy who offered a friendly smile earlier. His light brown hair is held back with a black headband and brushes the collar of his shirt in the back.
“Yeah. Otherwise known as the guy most likely to be cut first,” I joke.
“I was leaning toward Disco as a nickname.” He has an easygoing way about him from the slant of his shoulders to the smile he continues to aim at me.
