The Tomboy And The Captain

~2

Avalon's POV:

After School

In the locker room, I get ready for soccer practice. I’m the only girl here since the others are busy with cheer practice. I tie my hair back, change into my cleats, and lace them up.

"Come on, West," Donovan knocks on the door.

"I'll be right out," I reply, grabbing my bag and heading out. He’s already carrying the soccer balls.

"Hold these," he says, handing me a stack of cones.

"Ready to be impressed, captain?" Bryce, dressed similarly, joins us.

"No," I respond, passing him the cones and quickening my pace toward the field.

“There you are! Tryouts start in five minutes,” Coach Wills greets us, tossing a ball to Bryce. "Glad to have a legend like you trying out. I expect great things."

"Of course, coach."

I roll my eyes at his favoritism.

"Your jealousy is showing, West," Felix smirks.

"I'm not jealous," I shoot back.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. Look," he points. Bryce is already showcasing his skills with the ball.

"All right, trainees! If you think you're good enough for my team, show me what you've got. Ford, goalpost; Ricci, defense," Coach commands as Jesse and Luciano take their positions.

"Line up. Score three or more goals to advance," he adds.

I remember my own tryout over a year ago when the guys were shocked that I made the team.

I sit on the bench with Donovan and Felix. The coach hands me the clipboard to track positions for those who pass.

"You, wimpy freshman, let’s see what you’ve got," Coach Wills gestures to a tall freshman.

"I'm not a freshman; I skipped a grade," he responds.

"Oh, a dork's trying out," the coach quips, drawing laughter. "Go on then; I judge talent, not looks."

I was relieved to hear that when I tried out and ended up as the coach's favorite.

The first guy scores three out of five goals. I note his position.

"Offense?" Donovan whispers. I nod and jot it down.

"His speed and control will be assets."

Ten minutes later...

"Wow, he’s actually good," I comment as Bryce scores again, making Jesse look incompetent.

"Guess you’ve never seen him play," Ryder laughs.

"Isn’t it obvious?" I roll my eyes.

"West, put King for striker," Coach instructs.

"What? But I am—"

"Striker. We need him."

Bryce smirks, and I scoff while writing "striker" next to his name.

"I can't wait to start working with you," he says, fueling my annoyance.

The coach steps away to take a call.

"We only need one striker, so you’ll be benched soon," I retort sweetly.

"Careful; life has a way of screwing you over," he shrugs.

"All right, everyone, practice time! Congrats to the four who made the team," Coach announces, and we clap.

Bryce is among the four, along with the "not-a-freshman" guy.

"Take over, captain," Coach Wills says. "I have a meeting," before leaving.

"Time to shake off the rust! Fifteen laps around the field, then 50 push-ups," I blow the whistle.

Bryce laughs, "Only 50? Back at my old school, we did at least 100."

"Okay, Superman, do 100 if you're up for it."

"We need to think and train like champions," he insists. "Everyone, 120 push-ups after the laps."

"Excuse me, but this is my team," I snap.

"You all clearly need help, so let’s go," he claps, and they start to run.

I sigh and catch up. It’s going to be a long evening.

****

"Ugh, feels like soccer camp again," Jesse groans, flopping onto the grass after practice ends two hours later. Bryce barked orders and barely let me speak.

"Tell me about it," Luciano lies down next to him.

"Come on, this wasn’t so bad. Wait until we start games; then you'll see what real practice feels like," Bryce says.

"You call this the easy part?" Jesse sighs.

"This is nothing; I went easy on you," he scoffs.

"Easy? I can’t imagine the medium or hard version," Luciano whines.

"Can I talk to you?" I pull Bryce aside.

"If you want to get with me so badly, wait until after practice," he grins.

"You're not my type."

"Do you even have a type?"

"Touché, but we need to discuss the boundaries you've crossed tonight. I'm the captain; I appreciate your input, but you took over my entire practice. That’s not cool."

"Sorry, but I’m helping turn you guys into winners. Jesse’s goalkeeping will improve, and Luciano's defense will be strong," he replies confidently.

"Cocky much?"

"Best high school soccer player in France," he shrugs.

"Whatever, just stay behind the line next time," I say, grabbing my bag. "Practice is over."

As some guys leave, the three newcomers carry the equipment inside.

"Hey, want a ride home?" Jesse asks as we walk to the entrance.

"Sure, I assume Avery left with her friends," I nod.

In the parking lot, with fewer than ten cars, Jesse unlocks his truck. We toss our bags in the trunk and jump into the front seats since it only has a driver's side and a passenger side.

"Bryce is good, right?" Jesse asks, driving out of the lot.

"He's okay," I answer, shrugging.

"More than okay; he could lead us to the championship," he grins.

"As long as he doesn't try to take over my practice again, I'm fine."

Fifteen minutes later

"Thanks for the ride. Pick me up tomorrow," I say as I grab my bag, noticing Jesse's blue eyes on me.

"Sure, I leave at 7:30."

"See you at 7:45," I wave as he drives off. Turning toward the house, I see two cars in the driveway instead of one.

Mom's home?

I enter and call, "Anyone home?" as I shut the door.

"Oh my Avalon, you’re filthy!" Mom exclaims, stepping out of the kitchen.

"Hi, Mom. Just got back from soccer practice."

"Oh, you're still into sports. Your sister and I are making dinner. Your father won’t be home until late, so it’s just us," she explains.

Great, dinner with them isn't what I’m looking forward to.

"I'm going to shower and head to my room," I say, moving toward the stairs.

"Actually, come back down when you’re done; I have something for you," she calls after me.

At least she’s in casual clothes instead of her pilot uniform. I’m surprised she’s back so soon after leaving for work on New Year’s Day.

I guess that's why we don't have another sibling. Mom is often away, and Dad probably wouldn't want to try again unless she did.

Dad said when they married, Mom didn’t want kids, but he was glad because he ended up with two beautiful daughters.

I didn't develop a love for toys and clothes until I was five, and despite our nanny’s efforts, I never wanted to change.

Dad’s family is smart; his older sister is a nurse, and her twin brother has a good job too. Dad is a triplet, which makes his joy about us being twins understandable. My older cousins are twins too, so it runs in the family.

We spent Christmas in America in December. I had a blast with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandfather; they barely mentioned grandma.

Dad, Matthew West, was a troublemaker in his teens, or so I've heard from his siblings.

He and his brother, along with their childhood friend Uncle Asher, were exceptional soccer players at my age, which is likely why Dad signed me up for teams. He saw my potential.

Dad moved to Australia for a change and this is where Mom's career began, so he followed her across the world. It’s ironic; despite all that, she still flies back to America. She never seems to settle down for long.

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