VII.
1704 Words
-Raya-
The room was still, but my mind wasn’t.
I sat at the desk, legs curled beneath me on the chair, the glow of the computer screen the only light in the room. Everyone else had gone to bed. The house was quiet, save for the distant sound of crickets outside and the occasional creak of old wood settling.
I hesitated before opening the browser.
This wasn’t exactly “schoolwork.” Alec had told me I could use the computer for assignments—but this? This was personal. This was… something I couldn’t let go of.
Still, I typed it in.
“American football basics.”
The results loaded instantly. Diagrams. Explainers. YouTube videos. Highlight reels. Tutorials for beginners.
I clicked on the first video.
A deep-voiced narrator started breaking things down—positions, rules, scoring. Touchdown. Field goal. Defense. Offense. Quarterback.
It was confusing at first. The kind of confusing that makes you want to quit. But I didn’t. I rewound. I watched it again.
And again.
And slowly, it began to make sense.
I learned that not everyone on the field needed to be big. Some were fast. Some strategic. Some strong. Some agile. Everyone had a role. A place.
And I started to wonder… could I have a place too?
The thought made my heart beat faster.
I opened another tab.
“Maplewood High School football team.”
There it was. Their name. The Maplewood Wolverines.
There were a few videos from games—some recorded by the school, others probably by parents or students.
And then I saw him.
Alec.
Number 12.
He was in his element—focused, fast, sharp. I never realized how good he was until I saw him like this, not just the aloof guy in a varsity jacket, but a real athlete. The way he moved across the field was all instinct. Confidence. Control.
The crowd screamed when he made a pass.
The camera zoomed in, and I caught a flash of that usual expression on his face—stoic, unreadable, almost bored. But this time, I could see the fire behind it. He cared. Even if he didn’t say it out loud.
I sat there in silence.
Watching. Absorbing.
Dreaming. This wasn’t just a sport anymore.
It was a story.
A language. A challenge.
I wasn’t sure if I could ever be part of it—not really—but I knew I wanted to try.
And that was enough to keep me watching until the screen blurred from tired eyes and my head finally dropped onto folded arms.
Still dreaming of end zones.
And proving people wrong.
I must’ve fallen asleep right on the desk.
When I opened my eyes, the glow of the computer screen had already gone dark, and a faint line of early morning sunlight slipped through the curtains.
For a second, I forgot where I was.
Then the dream—no, the decision—came rushing back like a tide.
Football. I was going to do it.
Not just watch it. Not just wonder. I was going to try.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood, my neck a little sore from the awkward angle I’d slept in. But I didn’t care. The flame in my chest burned bright. Not the kind that screamed and shouted—but the kind that persisted. Quiet, steady, impossible to ignore.
I got dressed faster than usual, tugging on my jeans and hoodie, tying my hair back in a loose ponytail. I even caught myself humming while brushing my teeth.
By the time I stepped into the kitchen, Carla was already up, sipping from a bright yellow mug.
“Oh, good morning, sweetheart!” she greeted warmly, in her usual sunny voice. “Sleep well?”
I nodded, trying not to sound too giddy. “Yeah, I did. Thank you.”
“You’re glowing,” she said with a soft smile. “Something exciting happening today?”
I hesitated with a shrug, then smiled back. “Maybe.”
She handed me a plate of pancakes, stacked neatly with syrup already drizzling down the sides. “Well, whatever it is, I hope it goes well. Just be you, okay? You’re doing great.”
Those words stuck with me longer than they should’ve. I pocketed them like a good-luck charm.
Soon, the sound of little footsteps pattering down the hallway echoed through the house. Lila was still rubbing sleep from her eyes while Ethan darted around like a tornado.
I helped them with their shoes and backpacks like usual, even laughed when Ethan tried to race me to the door and tripped over his laces. Carla kissed them both goodbye and gave me an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder.
“You’ve got this,” she whispered, as if she knew.
Then came Alec—right on time. Hoodie over his head, earbuds in, not saying much as usual. We exchanged a quiet nod before sliding into the car. I sat beside him, watching the familiar suburban streets blur past the windows.
He didn’t talk. I didn’t either.
But this time, it wasn’t heavy.
It wasn’t awkward.
It was quiet.
Focused.
Because something had changed. I wasn’t just the new girl trying to fit in anymore.
I had a goal.
And I was going to chase it.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my backpack as I walked through the long hallway that smelled faintly of waxed floors and gym socks. The noise of chatter and lockers slamming echoed behind me, but I didn’t stop. My heart pounded like a drumline in my chest, but I kept going.
I was looking for the Sports Development Office, but what I really came for was written on a folded note in my back pocket:
Women’s Football Team – Room G6, behind the gym.
I followed the signs. I followed my gut.
Finally, I found it—G6, plain and grey, with a worn-out bulletin board and a door that looked like it hadn’t been opened much this semester. I took a deep breath, raised a hand to knock—
“Hey.”
I froze.
Turning around, I saw three girls standing behind me like a wall. They were tall—one of them even taller that stood out a lot, it seemed—and their matching black training jackets told me exactly who they were.
“You lost or something?” the tallest one asked, her brows arched with amusement.
“This isn’t the club fair,” another added, smirking. “Or the baking club.”
A small chuckle came from the third one, arms crossed, eyes scanning me head to toe. “Maybe she’s just looking for the wrong locker room.”
They stood a full foot taller than me, toned and confident, like they owned the hallway. They were intimidating, yes—but I wasn’t going to show that.
I straightened my shoulders and said, clear and firm, “I’m here for the women’s football team.”
All three blinked.
Then they laughed.
“Seriously?” the tall one snorted. “No offense, but—have you even held a football before?”
“Do you even know the rules?”
I kept my eyes steady. “Not yet. But I will.”
One of them scoffed under her breath. Another shook her head like she’d just seen a toddler try to lift weights.
I turned away and knocked on the door.
It creaked open after a moment. A tired-looking woman in her mid-forties stood there, wearing a Maplewood Football hoodie and holding a clipboard. Her eyes flicked to me, then to the three girls behind me. She seemed… confused.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m here to ask about joining the women’s football team.”
A beat passed.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Coach,” I said, voice steady. “I’m serious.”
She stepped back and waved me in. “Come in, then.”
I walked inside, aware of the three girls still watching, still laughing softly behind me. The office was small, with posters of past tournaments on the walls and dusty equipment bags piled in the corner. A whiteboard listed the practice schedule in red marker.
Coach sat on the edge of her desk and studied me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
“You’ve played before?”
“No,” I said honestly. “But I’ve done Taekwondo, badminton, and volleyball. I’m athletic. And I learn fast.”
She exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Look, kid… we’re barely hanging on here. This year might be our last. If we don’t win at least one game, they’re going to shut us down. No one’s even shown up for tryouts in the past two weeks.”
“I’ll show up,” I said. “Every day. I’ll learn everything.”
Her gaze softened for a moment, but then hardened again. “This isn’t easy. It’s tough out there. Brutal, even.”
“Good,” I said, feeling that heat in my chest again. “Then I’ll get tougher.”
A silence settled between us.
The door creaked open behind me, and the three girls stepped in, still chuckling. I didn’t turn.
Coach looked past me at them. “You know these girls?”
I nodded. “Yeah. We just met.”
Coach smirked a little. “Well then, I guess you’ll get to know each other real well.”
One of the girls muttered, “Unbelievable.”
Coach ignored it. “You can start coming to practices after school. First week’ll be drills. Lots of ‘em. Still sure?”
I turned and looked at the three who had laughed at me, still amused, still dismissive.
Then I turned back to the coach, held my chin high, and said,
“Yes. I’m sure. We’ll win. And we’ll prove it.”
Behind me, one of the girls let out a low whistle. “She’s cute when she’s confident.”
But I didn’t respond.
Because I wasn’t here to impress them.
I was here to fight for something.
And the game had just begun.
- Writer
