PROVE YOURSELF
995 Words
Chapter Eight — Prove Yourself
The next morning, I arrived at the field before everyone else.
I stood at the edge of the pitch, staring at the goalposts.
Yesterday, Coach had given Ethan my position.
Today, I had a choice.
I could sit on the bench and be angry about it.
Or I could prove that I deserved to be on that field.
I chose the second option.
I dropped my bag and started running.
One lap.
Then another.
By the time I finished, my breathing was heavy, but I didn't stop.
I had something to prove.
Not to Ethan.
Not to Coach.
To myself.
“You're going to wear yourself out before practice even starts.”
I stopped.
Ethan stood a few feet away, holding his water bottle.
I frowned.
“You're here early too.”
“Couldn't sleep.”
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
“You.”
I blinked.
“Me?”
He smiled.
“Your attitude.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Very funny.”
“I wasn't joking.”
He took a drink of water.
“You're angry about yesterday.”
“Obviously.”
“You shouldn't be.”
I stared at him.
“You took my position.”
“I know.”
“And you're telling me I shouldn't be angry?”
“I didn't say you shouldn't be angry.”
He paused.
“I said you shouldn't give up.”
I looked away.
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Ethan suddenly shifted his weight.
His expression tightened.
It was quick.
So quick that I almost missed it.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He straightened immediately.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“I'm fine.”
There was that answer again.
I'm fine.
I frowned.
Before I could question him, Coach blew his whistle from across the field.
“Everyone in!”
Players began arriving.
Training started.
Coach divided us into groups.
Then he looked at me.
“Lena, you're going to play against the starters today.”
My heart jumped.
“Against them?”
“Yes.”
I glanced at Ethan.
He was already looking at me.
“Show me what you've got.”
I nodded.
This was my chance.
---
The scrimmage began.
The first few minutes were rough.
The starting team moved quickly, and I had to work twice as hard to keep up.
Then the ball came toward me.
I controlled it.
One defender moved toward me.
I dodged her.
Another came from the side.
I passed the ball to Maya.
She returned it.
I ran.
The goal was right in front of me.
I kicked.
Goal.
Coach blew his whistle.
“Good!”
My teammates cheered.
I smiled.
For the first time since Ethan arrived, I felt like myself again.
Then I noticed Ethan.
He was standing near the other side of the field.
He smiled at me.
I smiled back before I could stop myself.
He gave me a small nod.
Keep going.
I turned back toward the game.
A few minutes later, Ethan sprinted toward the ball.
Then he suddenly slowed.
His hand went briefly to his side.
I noticed.
He looked around quickly, as if making sure nobody had seen.
Nobody seemed to notice.
Except me.
“Ethan!”
He looked at me.
“I'm fine.”
I hadn't even asked.
That made me more suspicious.
He ran again.
But something was different.
He wasn't moving as quickly as before.
I watched him for the rest of the scrimmage.
Every now and then, his expression tightened.
Every time it happened, he tried to hide it.
Something was wrong.
I just didn't know what.
---
After practice, Coach called me over.
“You played well.”
“Thank you.”
“You're improving.”
I smiled.
“Does that mean I get my position back?”
Coach laughed.
“Not so fast.”
My smile disappeared.
“You still have work to do.”
“I'll keep working.”
“I know you will.”
He walked away.
I packed my things.
As I turned toward the exit, I saw Ethan sitting alone on the bench.
His head was lowered.
One hand was pressed against his side.
I stopped.
For a moment, I wasn't sure whether I should walk over.
Then I did.
“Ethan?”
He immediately removed his hand.
“Hey.”
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You were holding your side.”
He looked at me.
“I pulled a muscle.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“Is it serious?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I narrowed my eyes.
“You're lying.”
He smiled faintly.
“You always assume the worst.”
“Because you keep acting like everything is fine when it clearly isn't.”
His smile disappeared.
“Lena, I'm okay.”
I wanted to believe him.
But something in his eyes told me there was more.
“Fine,” I said.
He looked surprised.
I picked up my bag.
“But if you get hurt because you're too stubborn to admit something is wrong, don't expect me to feel sorry for you.”
He laughed quietly.
“Would you really not feel sorry for me?”
I looked back at him.
“No.”
He smiled.
“You're a terrible liar.”
I shook my head and walked away.
But as I left the field, I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen.
The way he had suddenly slowed down.
The way he'd held his side.
The way he'd tried to hide it.
Ethan Hayes was hiding something.
And this time, I was almost certain it wasn't just a family problem.
It had something to do with football.
And somehow, I knew I wasn't going to be able to ignore it forever.
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