Page 74 of Rock Bottom Girl
“We’ll check the rule book later,” I said. “Just try not to get kicked in the face today.”
The faster runners returned, and after another minute, the rest of the team was sucking wind in front of us.
“Everyone, this is Libby. She’s thinking about joining the team.”
They eyed her with teenage hostility and suspicion.
Libby stared back, seemingly bored and unintimidated.
“Is she Lisabeth’s replacement? Is this why you kicked her off the team?” Angela demanded.
“Lisabeth wasn’t kicked off the team. She was asked to leave. Nicely,” Vicky lied.
“I kicked Lisabeth off the team because she was a toxic presence. She might have had a big foot, but her attitude was holding back the entire team. Libby here is a coincidence. A really good one, so I suggest you not act like a pack of rabid wolverines for once. Anyone have any problems with that?”
Over a dozen hands raised. “Tough crap,” I said. “I’m the boss. And I need you all to know that the decisions I make are what I think is best for all of you. Not just some of you. We’re a team. Remember that. We’ve got common ground, common goals. And we’re basically awesome human beings. Does anyone have anything they’d like to talk about?”
I didn’t really want to delve into the whole “sorry your coach died on the sidelines” thing, but it was my job to make these girls a team.
“Can we talk about why the only makeup you wear is mascara and Chapstick?” Natalee asked.
“No, but if someone wants to discuss how they were affected by their head coach’s death last year, we can talk.”
There were blinks and shrugs around our little, sweaty circle.
“Ugh. Not this again. We already sat through guidance counselor therapy last year,” one of the girls groaned.
“Nope. We’re good,” Ruby announced.
I was relieved. “Great. Now, let’s line up for super fun shots on goal drills.”
On Libby’s first shot, a fast-moving grounder, she sent it sailing into the far upper corner of the net and jogged to the end of the line like it was no big thing.
“Lucky shot,” one of the Sophies grumbled.
Libby wiggled her eyebrow ring at the girl.
They got really quiet on her second shot. Libby trapped the air ball under her foot, executed a neat little 360, and put the ball in the lower right corner.
“Who the hell is this chick? Carli Lloyd?” one of the girls grumbled.
By her third turn, everyone was watching with bated breath. I decided to give Libby a little room for the dramatic and floated a ball to her. With a precise snap, she banked it off her forehead, directing it under the crossbar and into the back of the net.
That earned some applause from the easier-to-please members of the team.
I shot Vicky a smug look, and she tipped an imaginary top hat at me.
I’d designed the entire practice to play to Libby’s strengths. Her controlled dribble was the fastest, her footwork the cleanest, and, by my count, she was twelve for twelve in shots on goal. The entire team was taking notice, and the muttered bitchiness was quieting.
“She’s so fucking good,” Vicky hissed at me. “Do you think she likes us?”
“God, I hope so. Is it legal to bribe high school athletes?” I wondered. There was just one more test. “Okay, gang. Let’s scrimmage for the last fifteen minutes before we turn you lose to wreak whatever havoc you wreak on a Thursday night.”
I divvied them up varsity vs. JV and put Libby on the JV team. In less than five seconds, Libby had snagged the ball from forward Natalee and was running toward the goal as if she was being chased by an army of zombies. The fast ones. Not the limping ones.
“Holy shit,” Vicky whispered next to me.
Libby juked, jived, and danced her way through the varsity defense until it was just her and the goalie. One graceful little nudge from her foot sent the ball sailing past Ashlynn. The whole run had taken less than fifteen seconds.
