take a deep breath, baby, let me in

2008

Abby’s fingers jumped a little as they tangled in her laces, the pads of her thumbs burning against the hot nylon. It had been an unbearably hot November, even for California’s standards, and she was covered in a sheen of uncomfortably sticky sweat that had stuck to her for the best part of two hours. Her boots were warm to the touch as she slid them off, wriggling her toes gratefully as they came into contact with air once more. Her teammates chatted amiably around her, and Abby found herself lazily flopping back against the turf, the sun on her neck and the low buzz of conversation suddenly sucking the energy out of her.

‘Do you have any plans tonight?’ A girl to her right was saying to another. ‘There’s a party at Brad’s house.’

Abby heard a shout of laughter, ‘On a Wednesday?’

‘Is there something wrong with that?’

‘No,’ Abby could tell the other girl was grinning, ‘There isn’t. See you there.’

Abby closed her eyes, ignoring the low pang of jealousy in her stomach.

She was their centre back, their captain, the golden girl, their best hope at a scholarship.

Scholarship girls didn’t go to parties on a Wednesday.

‘Abby D!’ came a gruff call, and Abby cocked open one eye to see her coach beckoning from the edge of the field, where he was packing cones into the bag. She padded over on her tiptoes, eager to avoid burning her feet against the turf.

‘What are you doing tonight?’ he asked, not even glancing up at her.

Abby’s mouth dropped open a little bit. ‘What?’

The tone of her voice made him look up, and his cheeks coloured slightly as he realised how he had sounded.

‘I’ve got something for you to do.’ He explained, ‘A little bit of homework.’

Her face morphed into something between disgust and horror, ‘Homework?’

‘Don’t look so upset. I just need you to watch a game.’

‘We went over the tape yesterday, Coach.’

‘Not our game. It’s the U17 World Cup final tonight and the US team are playing in it. I want you to watch it. I’ll email you a link.’

‘Why?’ Abby asked, brow furrowed slightly.

‘Because these will be the people you’ll be competing with at college.’

She shifted from foot to foot, ‘It’s two years till I go to college.’

He fixed her with a serious look, ‘Dahlkemper, some of these girls have known what college they’ll commit to since they were fourteen or fifteen. You need to take this seriously.’

She decided it wasn’t worth arguing over, and he had a point.

‘Yes Coach.’

After her shower and her dinner, she sat down in front of the computer monitor in the study and found the link her coach had emailed her. She sat back in her chair with a huff as she waited for the stream to start, tucking her legs under her and taking long gulps from her water bottle.

The first thing she noted was how much she disliked their kits. They were oversized and baggy,  the gold looking more like an ugly shade of tan on the grainy screen. She scanned the faces of the starting lineup carefully as the anthems played, to see if she recognised any of the players, but she drew a blank.

Then the game kicked off, and she realised how good they all actually were. The passing was quick, the movement was fluid- they all seemed to just know where a teammate would be without actually having to look.

She found herself sucked in with every passing minute, and as she watched a few players began to stand out.

Well, one player did.

The number ten. She was a tall, blonde girl with her hair tied up in a bun, and she had to squint to make out the name on her back. Mewis.

She scrolled down a little on the page to find the lineups for the game and she scanned the number list to find the number 10.

Kristie Mewis.

There was something in the way she played- an elegance, an effortlessness, a confidence that Abby could only dream of. She deserved to be there, competing with the best, and she seemed to know it. Abby kept her eyes on her for most of the game, even when she didn’t have the ball.

When the final whistle blew, the score was one-all, and a nervousness brewed in her gut as she watched the two teams gather around, coaches urging them on animatedly in the huddle.

They conceded five minutes from the end of extra time, and her heart plummeted. The North Koreans flooded onto the pitch when the whistle finally went, hugging and smiling and crying. The camera zoomed in on Kristie Mewis, on her knees with her head in her hands, and Abby couldn’t help but notice that she was cute.

It felt wrong. She could hardly believe she was crushing over some girl who she didn’t know after watching her play one hundred and twenty minutes of soccer.

It was stupid.

She closed the browser and went to bed, head filled with dreams of playing in huge stadiums with packed out crowds.

She thought about Kristie most days.

2010

‘Abby, baby, we have to go!’ Her mom called from the bottom of the stairs, and she frantically stuffed her wash bag into her suitcase and zipped it shut, wincing a little at how heavy it was as she heaved it off the bed.

‘Do you need a hand with that?’ Her mom asked, looking slightly concerned as she lugged it down the stairs.

‘Nope.’ Abby panted, ‘It’s all good.’

‘You know we’re just going for a couple of days, right?’ Her mom laughed, following her out the front door and onto the driveway, locking the door behind them.

‘I bought this stuff just in case,’ Abby explained, pulling open the trunk of the car and squeezing in the suitcase alongside her mom’s tiny over-night bag.

Her mom gave her a tight hug as she walked by to get to the driver’s side.

‘This is so exciting. It’s crazy to think you’ll be going to college next fall.’

‘Yeah look at me, I’m all grown up at seventeen,’ Abby deadpanned, sliding into the passenger seat and turning the A.C. on to full blast.

‘You’ll be eighteen soon,’ Her mom said wistfully, starting the engine, ‘And then nineteen. Then twenty.’

Abby laughed, ‘You’re so dramatic. One thing at a time, Mom. I need to actually get to college first.’

‘They’d be crazy not to want you. You’re the best prospect out of Cali and don’t you forget it.’

‘And there are fifty-one more states in America,’ Abby replied cautiously, ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

Her mom glanced over, and Abby saw that there was a fire burning behind her eyes.

‘Abby, how much do you want to play soccer at college?’

Abby swallowed, ‘A lot.’

‘Then you gotta believe that you’re the best. You gotta feel it. You gotta know it.’

‘I’m managing expectations.’ Abby argued, shifting in her seat.

‘Roll down your window.’

‘What?’

‘Roll down your window and shout ‘I’m going to play college soccer at UCLA’.’

Abby laughed, ‘No way.’

‘Do it. Or I’ll turn this car around.’

‘Mom, c’mon-’

‘Do it.’

Abby could tell by her tone that her mom was not going to give up, so she rolled down her window.

‘I’m going to play college soccer at UCLA!’ she called, and several passers-by looked up curiously.

‘Louder!’ Her mom instructed, laughing too. ‘Scream it for the whole world to hear.’

‘I’m going to play college soccer at UCLA!’ Abby repeated, screaming so loudly her voice went hoarse.

‘Good.’ Her mom said, reaching over to squeeze her knee as she wound the window back up, ‘Now you’re feeling it.’

The roads were busy as they drove through San Jose, but once they got out of the city and crossed over to the interstate, the traffic cleared up and there was nothing but open tarmac in front of them. Abby put on her mom’s favourite Celine Dion album and watched the mountains stretched out on the horizon. She drew up her knees and rested her feet on the dashboard, closing her eyes and listening to her mom hum along to the music.

They pulled up at a gas station and got McDonald’s for lunch- a rare treat. Abby licked the burger grease off her fingers as her mom filled up the car, and then they hit the road again.

They came off the interstate at Santa Clarita just as the sun began to set. Abby sat up in her seat and watched as the mountains around them merged into houses and buildings as they drove through North-West LA, pulling up in front of the hotel they’d booked a room in about fifteen minutes’ drive from campus.

Dinner was a pasta dish from the hotel’s restaurant, and Abby headed up to bed at nine, stomach churning with nerves and carbs. She stretched out in bed, tossing and turning under the covers for over an hour until she fell into a light, restless sleep.

Tomorrow was visiting day.

The receptionist looked at her with a wary eye as she approached the front desk the next morning.

‘Hey, I’m here for a visit.’ Abby said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

‘Name?’

Abby tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack, ‘Dahlkemper. Abby Dahlkemper.’

‘Take a seat please, Miss Dahlkemper. Coach Snow will be with you in a moment.’

Campus had been fairly busy when Abby had turned up that morning, but the reception area was relatively empty, bar a few people milling in and out of office doors. She took a seat on the padded chairs lining the wall and tangled her fingers on her lap, thumbs brushing nervously over her knuckles.

To his credit, Coach Snow really was only a few minutes. He strode through the double doors to his office at the end of the hall and approached her with a booming smile.

She liked him instantly.

‘Abby Dahlkemper?’ he guessed, extending a hand for her to take. She shook it and nodded. ‘Welcome. You’re coming from Menlo Park? That’s not too far.’

‘No,’ Abby replied, feeling at ease at once, ‘Just a six-hour drive.’

He wriggled his eyebrows, ‘It’ll be nice to be so close to home.’

She couldn’t help but laugh at that.

‘I’ll just be showing you around the team facilities this morning.’ He explained, ‘Then you’ll have lunch and a colleague of mine will take over to take you around the actual campus. Game starts this evening at seven-thirty.’

‘Sounds good.’ Abby answered, rocking back and forth a little on her heels. She wondered why they were still standing there rather than starting the tour.

Coach Snow seemed to read her confusion. ‘We always do tours in pairs so we’re waiting for another girl to come before we start. She should be here any moment- in fact, there she is.’

Abby turned around to see a girl come through the doors to the reception, face flushed pink and breathing a little hard. As she came closer and closer, Abby started to realise that she was tall. Not just average centre-back height, but huge- at least six foot.

And there was something about her that Abby couldn’t quite put her finger on. A vague sort of familiarity, a hint of recognition.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late.’ The girl babbled, shaking Coach Snow’s hand vigorously, ‘Traffic was just awful.’

He grinned, ‘No bother, Sammy, it was only a few minutes. Abby Dahlkemper, meet Sam Mewis, Sam Mewis, meet Abby Dahlkemper.’

Oh.

No way.

Mewis as in…?

Oh god.

Sam offered her a beaming smile, ‘Hey! Nice to meet you.’

‘Hey.’ Abby replied faintly, world spinning on its axis.

Sam frowned, ‘Are you good? You look a little pale.’

‘I’m fine.’ Abby squeaked, doing her best to look normal.

Kristie Mewis had a sister? Abby had a faint memory of seeing another Mewis listed in the lineup- a fact she’d somehow missed.

This is possibly the worst thing to ever happen to me. Definitely top five.

Coach Snow clapped his hands, ‘Okay, let’s get going. Follow me please.’

He led them out of the reception area and onto the quad, walking several paces in front of them seemingly in an attempt to encourage conversation between the two of them.

Sam bit the bullet.

‘You’ll be a freshman next year, right?’

‘Yeah.’ Abby replied, careful to avoid direct eye contact for extended periods, ‘Are you?’

Sam’s smile was so big Abby thought she was about to split her face in two.

‘Yeah! What position do you play?’

‘Centre-back.’

Sam nodded, ‘Nice. I’m a centre-mid.’

I know, was what Abby thought but didn’t say.

‘Do you live near here?’ was what she asked instead, and Sam scoffed in response.

‘No, have you seen my tan? I’m a Boston gal.’

‘Oh.’ Abby replied.

So Kristie was from Boston.

‘Boston’s pretty far from here.’ She continued.

Sam raised her eyebrows, ‘Exactly.’

‘Do you not get on well with your parents?’

‘Oh I do!’ Sam explained, as they were led right down a sidewalk, ‘My sister just plays college soccer for Boston College so I kinda just wanna get as far away as possible.’

Abby was tempted for a moment to throw a casual question into the wind about Kristie, but she let it slide.

‘That checks out. UCLA is your first pick?’

Sam shrugged, ‘I haven’t seen much of it yet, but I sure do love the weather in Cali and the campus is beautiful. What about you?’

‘I don’t know where I’d go if I didn’t go here.’ Abby admitted, ‘It’s close to home and I don’t think I could be anywhere but in Cali.’

Sam caught her eye for the first time and Abby was almost surprised to see a gentle look on her face.

‘You’re touring with Coach Snow for a reason. He wouldn’t be showing you around unless he really wanted to bring you in.’

Abby stared at her, ‘How do you know that?’

‘My sister came to visit last year and Snow showed us around. He told us at the end he only toured people he was desperate to have.’

‘But it didn’t work?’

Sam smiled, ‘Kristie is a Mommy’s girl. I don’t think she could be so far away from home.’

Abby shifted slightly at the mention of Kristie’s name, but if Sam noticed, she didn’t say a word.

They crossed the road and Abby saw the stands of a stadium loom to her left and she stared. Her high school had a couple of bleachers, but she’d be hard pressed to call it a stadium. Coach Snow saw her face and smiled.

‘This is Drake Stadium, where we play all our home games in a season. We train here too, so you’ll get to know this area well. I’m sure the seniors will be able to tell you where the nearest coffee shop is.’

They circled around the outside of the stadium and crossed the fields towards a field ringed by low-level stands. The grass was well-cut and a luscious green, and Abby knelt down to inspect it in wonder. She’d only ever played on turf or dusty grass fields growing up.

‘I’m sorry you have to hear this all again, Sammy.’ Coach Snow said apologetically, and Sam shook her head,

‘No, that’s alright Coach. I was a little starstruck when I came here last year so it’s good to hear everything again.’

Coach Snow laughed as he led them towards the locker rooms.

‘Obviously, this is the locker room. It might not be as fancy as the rooms in the Rose Bowl, but hey, you get your number on the door, so what more could you want?’

Abby gazed at the rows of white lockers; shirt number emblazoned on each one. She wondered which number she’d wear if she was recruited.

Coach Snow showed them everything; the training fields, the water fountains, the toilets- and once he’d showed them those he led them back across the road and showed them the gym facilities and the cafeteria, emphasising the importance of conditioning and nutrition as part of the program.

Abby was slightly blown away by it all- she’d always been good at soccer; good enough to know that she could probably make it to the big stage if she worked at it, but she’d not quite anticipated the level of professionalism that college soccer offered.

The dream of being a pro soccer player suddenly seemed less like a dream and more of a possibility.

She had lunch with Sam in the cafeteria, and Sam talked eagerly about her home life in Boston and her dogs, and Abby listened with interest.

Sam’s family were a sport’s family- Abby’s were too, but not quite to the extent Sam’s were. When Sam described their great rushes to get both daughters to practises, Abby felt a little queasy. Her brothers, Joseph and Andrew, had always been into sports, but not quite the same way Abby was. And her dad had always been the one taking them to practises, while her mom was the one who took her.

Sam started talking about Kristie, and Abby’s interest piqued. She tried not to let it show- leaning back in her chair when she finished eating, trying to look only half interested, but as Sam started talking about their rivalry, she leaned further and further forward, enraptured by her stories.

It wasn’t that she was obsessed with Kristie or anything. She’d not gone further than a quick search on Facebook, and had never worked up the courage to send a friend request, but it was almost like she’d built a picture of Kristie in her mind. An image of a tall, gorgeous girl who ran like the wind and always wore short-shorts, even in the winter. Sometimes if Abby caught a flash of a blonde bun on an opposing team, her stomach did a few flips.

The more Sam talked, the more Abby began to think that the Kristie that she’d built up in her head wasn’t all that different to the actual, real-life Kristie.

Abby couldn’t decide if that was a bad thing or not.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed to have very little in common with her sister, minus the blonde hair and couple of splatterings of freckles. Calling her tall was an understatement; Abby was no slouch in the height department but Sam towered over her. She was not lean, like her sister was, but more broad-shouldered, and everything about her felt huge.

And yet she was gentle. She gave off an aura of innocence that completely went against everything Abby had assumed of her from first glance, and Abby liked it. She liked her- she liked the way Sam’s eyes smiled when she smiled, she liked the way that Sam listened, brow furrowed with concentration as she drank in Abby’s every word.

Sam seemed like a good person, and Abby found herself wishing that she’d turn up to UCLA in the fall and see Sam bouncing around the campus with that infectious grin on her face.

In the afternoon they were shown around the campus and the student dorms, and were asked about their college majors and other extra-curriculars. That night, Sam and Abby sat next to each other in the stands and watched UCLA edge out UCF two to one in the second round of the NCAA tournament. The crowd was the largest that Abby had ever seen in non-professional soccer, but what stood out the most was how good UCLA were. There was a forward playing for UCLA, a tall, quick girl with an eye for goal who Abby swore was one of the best forwards she’d ever seen. When she scored the second goal to send them through to the next round, the bleachers went wild with excitement.

Abby really wanted to go to UCLA.

2011

‘Where do you want this one, honey?’ Abby’s dad asked from behind a large box.

‘Uhh…’ Abby scanned her side of the dorm room for space. ‘Just drop on top of the other box in front of my desk.’

Her dad did as she asked and wiped a bead of sweat away from his forehead. He looked at her proudly, and Abby smiled right back.

‘You did it, Abs.’ he whispered in her ear, as he pulled her into a hug, ‘You deserved to get here, but the work doesn’t stop now, right? Make sure you give one hundred percent in everything you do.’

‘You don’t need to tell her that,’ Abby’s mom said, appearing at the door, ‘She already knows, don’t you, baby?’

Abby nodded, stepping away from the embrace.

‘I’ll make you proud of me.’ She promised.

‘We already are.’ Her mom assured her, leaning in for her hug. ‘We’ll miss you at home, but make sure you enjoy every second you have.’

Abby smirked, ‘I’m not sure I’ll enjoy our seven A.M. fitness sessions, but I think I can just about manage everything else. Tell Joseph I love him and miss him already when you get home.’

Abby’s dad tipped his hat at her as they walked out the door, ‘Will do. Love you, Abby, see you at Thanksgiving!’

Then the door shut, and Abby was alone. She turned back to the pile of boxes on her bed in the dorm, an excited smile tugging at her lips.

She’d found out she’d been offered a scholarship to UCLA at Christmas. Coach Snow had given her a call on New Years Eve, when all her family had sat down to watch TV. Abby had been in the kitchen gorging herself on the remaining slices of gingerbread  when her phone had rung, and it had almost dropped out of her fingers in her hurry to pick it up.

‘Abby, we’d like to have you here at UCLA in the fall on a full-ride scholarship.’ He’d told her, and Abby thought she could hear the delight in his voice.

‘Oh.’ Was all she had managed at first, mouth still full of mince pie.

From then on, school had felt like a formality. Abby knew that there were still certain thresholds she had to meet, requirements to fulfil, but she’d finished her last semester in a daze, dreaming of spending the long Californian afternoons on the UCLA training fields, and Friday nights under the harsh stadium lights.

Ironically, the real work started for her the moment she graduated from high school. She was down at her local fields every day, with a ball and some cones, working on everything from fitness to shooting. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever need shooting, but she figured that having a complete game wouldn’t harm her chances of a starting spot.

Emails began to flood in in June, with orders for kit sizes and class sign-up sheets and dorm registration. Abby spent her evenings signing papers and clicking on links, and she had everything nailed down to a tee by early July.

It still hadn’t felt real until she had to start packing, loading clothes and posters into boxes and throwing out all her old stuff. Her neighbours had thrown her a going-away party, even though she was only driving a couple of hours down the road.

She’d not been able to sleep, the day before they’d left, tossing and turning in bed until she finally gave up and wandered over to her window to look out onto the drive, where the car was loaded full of her bags and boxes, primed for their trip in the early morning.

It felt like the start of something new.

Abby’s roommate, Jamie, was possibly the least sports-oriented person Abby had ever met, and Abby was so grateful for it. She was small, with bleached blonde hair and a tiny waist that Abby would’ve died for in high school. She’d introduced herself instantly with a hug the second she walked through the dorm door, and Abby knew they were going to get along perfectly.

Jamie explained on the way to the college fair that she was majoring in physics, and Abby’s eyes bugged out a little bit when she heard Jamie talk about her modules.

‘Names?’ A tired-looking student volunteer asked them, as they showed up at the entrance to the fair.

‘Abby Dahlkemper.’ Abby answered, slightly distracted by the huge yellow and blue tents that stretched across the campus quad.

‘Jamie Kim.’ Jamie said, and the volunteer ticked them off on his checklist and stepped aside to allow them to enter.

‘So,’ Jamie said, skipping a little to keep up with Abby’s strides, ‘Since you’re a hot-shot soccer player what clubs will you sign up for?’

Abby shrugged, ‘Probably none. I’m just here for the experience. It’s like window shopping.’

Jamie snorted, ‘Well, if you don’t mind, can we swing by the science clubs? I wanna sign up for a few.’

Abby grinned, ‘It’s gonna be fun being roomies with a nerd.’

‘Get down your high horse, jock.’

They walked past the long line of literature clubs, and Abby wrinkled her nose slightly.

‘Not planning on joining a book club?’ Jamie asked with a laugh, noticing the look on her face.

‘Over my dead body.’ Abby muttered.

‘Maybe you should- Ow!’ Jamie was cut off as she ran right straight into a girl who was jogging the other way.

‘Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.’ The jogger apologised profusely, steadying Jamie on her feet. She was nearly a foot taller than Jamie.

There was no way Abby could miss it.

‘Sam?’ she asked, mouth dropping open a little in surprise.

Sam Mewis turned around, face twisted in confusion until she caught sight of Abby, and her eyes lit up.

‘Abby!’

‘You know who this is?’ Jamie asked Abby, craning her neck to look up at Sam.

‘We met when I came to visit last winter.’ Abby explained, ‘We did a tour together.’

‘Are you here on scholarship?’ Sam asked, and Abby nodded, ‘I told you’d Snow would bring you in. What are you majoring in?’

‘Sociology. What about you?’

‘English.’

Abby winced and Jamie began to laugh,

‘Abby was just talking about how much she hates English.’

Sam put on the look of a wounded animal. ‘And I thought we were gonna get along so well. Don’t worry, Abby, I’ll get you to see the light soon enough.’

Abby rolled her eyes, ‘A lot of people have tried and failed.’

‘We’ll see. Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll see you at practise, okay?’

Abby and Jamie waved as Sam jogged off.

‘Dude, she’s huge.’ Jamie hissed, once she was out of earshot.

‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ Abby replied, puffing out her cheeks as they continued towards the science corner of the fair, ‘I’m gonna be playing with her.’

Their first practise was a couple of days later in the afternoon, and Abby got a strange thrill from pulling on her training jersey for the first time.

Jamie looked up as Abby walked out of the bathroom and whistled.

‘Oooh the number eight- I love it.’

‘Do I look okay?’ Abby asked, pulling her hair up in a ponytail and grabbing her boot-bag.

Jamie winked, ‘Always. Go get it girl!’

Abby timed her arrival to the field perfectly, turning up just as a huge flock of players did from the opposite direction. Coach Snow and his staff had already laid out the field, and Abby stared over at them in the huddle as she pulled her cleats on, wondering what they were talking about.

‘Hey.’ Sam greeted, dropping her stuff beside Abby’s and resting her hand on her shoulder. Abby squinted up at her under the glare of the sun.

‘Hey.’

‘Are you nervous?’

Abby had been a jittery ball for most of the day, but one glance at Sam who was chewing her lip and fumbling with her laces put her at ease.

‘I was.’ She answered honestly, ‘But I feel better now that we’re actually here.’

‘Okay ladies, bring it in!’ Coach Snow called, and they all jogged over to where the coaches were gathered in the centre circle.

‘Welcome to a new season at UCLA. We’ve got a lot to get through- about as much off-field stuff as on-field stuff, but we’ll be saving that for the team meeting tonight. Let’s just get into training, get some initial touches on the ball, do some fitness tests, and then we’ll focus on the other stuff. But I do have to introduce the newbies, so if you’re a freshman step forward.’

Abby and Sam stepped forward, along with around ten other girls. Coach Snow lined them up and asked them to say their names one by one and introduce themselves.

‘Hey!’ Sam smiled and waved, and Abby envied how instantly likeable she was. ‘I’m Sam Mewis, I come from Boston, I play centre-mid, I’m majoring in English and I love dogs.’

Abby, glad that she had a template to base her introduction on, went next.

‘Hey, I’m Abby Dahlkemper, I’m a Cali girl, I play centre-back, majoring in Sociology, and I love watching Buffy in my spare time.’

There were several murmurs of approval from the group, and relief spread like a drug through her veins. The rest of the line introduced themselves, but Abby hardly paid attention, instead scanning the group of players in front of her.

The forward she’d seen play the last season was still there, right in the front of the group. She looked serious, even a little intimidating, but as Abby watched she burst into laughter at something one of the girls said and her smile changed Abby’s initial assessment in a heartbeat.

They started with some fitness tests; shuttles, agility runs, reactions. Abby was grateful for all the work she put in during the summer, and she ranked towards the top end of the leaderboard for almost every single test.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, but Sam was insanely fit, long legs pounding against the dirt- she eased through, looking like she was on a light jog rather than competing in a college soccer fitness test.

The forward, who’s name Abby learned was Syd, topped all the tests they did by quite some margin.

‘Why is she so good?’ Abby asked Sam after the final test, panting heavily with her hands on her knees.

‘She’s Sydney Leroux.’ Sam gasped, ‘It’s not that surprising.’

‘I think I live under a rock because I have no idea who she is.’

Sam blinked at her slowly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

‘Sydney Leroux. The Sydney Leroux. Played for the Vancouver Whitecaps at fifteen.’

Abby scrunched her nose up in deep thought.

‘Nope, I’m drawing a blank.’

Sam sighed, ‘Well, all you have to know is that she’s very, very good.’

‘Do you know everything about everyone?’

‘Not really. Just the players I’ve played with or against.’

‘For the U17 National Team?’

Sam glanced over in surprise, ‘How did you know that? I don’t think I ever mentioned it.’

Abby cursed internally, ‘I think Coach Snow told me before our visit.’ She lied.

Sam accepted her explanation without question and grinned.

‘Hey, would you look at that? My reputation precedes me.’

Preseason rolled on, and Abby very quickly familiarised herself with college life. She was sure to keep things neat and organised- writing out every important meeting and practise and lecture in her planner, colour-coding different events and times. Life was busy, but she loved it. She found lectures engaging and enjoyed being free of math. Practises went smoothly; she had never struggled to keep healthy and in-shape, so sessions rarely burned her out completely.

Jamie was the perfect roommate- neat, respectful of boundaries, not around all the time but always up for a chat when time allowed. Abby was grateful to have a friend outside the team, a friend who she could talk to about stuff that wasn’t soccer. Jamie was always willing to lend an ear if Abby ever felt like she wanted to moan about practise, and Abby listened intently as Jamie babbled on about stupid people in her class mixing up Born’s Law and Bragg’s Law.

There was a balance to her life that she cherished- she could go out onto a soccer pitch for hours and play with the girls, and then she could go out for burgers with Jamie at a dirt-cheap joint just around the corner from their dorm.

She got to know her teammates a lot better too. Summer and Amelia were the seniors on the back line with her, and were so calm under pressure that Abby often wondered if they suffered any nerves at all. Katelyn, their goalkeeper, was tall and broad (though not as tall as Sam), and played like she’d been on the squad for years, with no qualms about roaring instructions out at the defensive line if she didn’t feel like they were pulling their weight.

Megan was a player Abby grew close to very quickly. She hailed from Illinois- where she’d played for one of the best high school teams in the country. She looked sweet and gentle- Abby got a very strong girl-next-door vibe from her, but on the pitch, she was as solid as a rock, unafraid to get physical if the challenge arose. Off the pitch, she was bubbly and excitable and interested in anything anyone had to say. She wasted no time at all getting to know Abby, asking after her home life and her family and her pets.

Caprice was almost a total opposite. Abby found out quickly that she was Hawaiian, and Caprice made sure she never forgot it. She was tiny and fast- whenever Abby thought she had her cornered in training Caprice always managed to somehow slither out of her grasp. She played with a fierce passion and intensity that carried off the pitch too- she loved to argue about everything and nothing, always eager to challenge everyone. Abby loved it though- the fight she showed. And for all Caprice’s eccentricities and strongly-worded opinions, she never complained; there was a toughness to her, the ability for her to get the bit between her teeth and grind out results.

Almost everyone endured Caprice’s rants with endearing smiles and replies of ‘Yes Caprice’, but one player who never put up with any of it was Sydney Leroux. Abby respected her immensely, but there was a frightening element to Syd that made Abby think twice before she opened her mouth to speak around her. Syd had no concerns about putting Caprice in her place if she thought she was overstepping a boundary, and Caprice spent hours glowering afterwards. Abby had been worried at first that tensions would reach a boiling point between the two at the worst possible moment, but she soon realised that there was a grudging mutual respect that lay beneath all their scowls.

And of course, there was Sam Mewis. Sam was someone Abby thought she had all figured out- until she didn’t. At face value, Sam was caring, funny, but perpetually a little confused. Abby was reminded very strongly of a golden retriever in the way she bounced around the field. They clicked almost instantly- it may have been because they’d met before they’d even arrived or just because they happened to be grouped together so much, Abby didn’t know, but she found it very easy to feel comfortable around Sam. She could say exactly what she thought, however bold, and Sam would just respond without batting an eyelid.

She hung out with Sam a lot. It took them a week of running into each other between lectures to work out that they had class in the same building. Sam took her out for coffee one morning, and that was it- they developed an almost daily routine of coffee grabbing.

On Fridays (which Sam had claimed as their cheat day), they chose a pastry each to try with their drinks, and spent the time arguing over their favourites.

Sam made Abby laugh; the kind of lungs-gasping, side-splitting laugh that made her limbs weak and tears form in her eyes.

She thought she had Sam nailed down to a tee, until they reached the end of the second week of preseason, and the last weekend of training before their opening game.

‘You know.’ Sam said, as they lay on their backs on the grass of the quad, picking at blades between her fingers, ‘I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo.’

Abby, who was lying on her back and had her eyes closed, hummed to show she was half listening.

‘Do you?’ Sam pressed, rolling onto her side to look at her. Abby opened one eye and squinted at her,

‘Uh… I guess.’

Sam grinned, and it was not a nice grin. ‘Then let’s get one!’

‘Where?’ Abby asked, apprehension rising.

‘Syd told me that she knew a place in town.’

Abby grunted, ‘If Syd said she knows a place, I wouldn’t go there if I were you.’

Sam pouted, ‘Please?’

Abby slid her tongue across her front teeth as she thought.

‘Only if I get to choose your tattoo.’

Sam stared at her, ‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’

Sam sat back on her heels and Abby could see her mulling the decision over in her head.

‘Only if I get to choose your tattoo.’ She answered finally, and Abby shrugged.

‘Deal.’

Sam honked outside Abby’s dorm window at four o’clock that afternoon, and Abby scrambled to gather her stuff.

‘Where are you going?’ Jamie asked, not looking up from her laptop.

‘To get a tattoo.’

‘What?’ Jamie’s eyes flicked up from the screen.

‘Sam told me I could pick what she got as long as she got to pick mine.’

Jamie’s face split into a cheeky smile, ‘Are you gonna make her get something terrible?’

Abby winked back at her as she walked towards the door, ‘Oh absolutely.’

Abby had envisioned Syd’s tattoo parlour to be a grotty little place down some dark alley, but in all actuality, it was stationed on a high street with plants lining the windowsill, walls dressed in a lovely shade of yellow. Sam had called ahead for an appointment, so they were shown right through to a room at the back, where a tattooist named Tim waited for them.

‘Okay ladies.’ He said, offering out a hand for them to shake, ‘Who’s going first?’

‘I will.’ Sam volunteered, taking a seat on the chair beside the tools.

‘Do you have a design in mind?’ Tim asked, cleaning off the needle with a wipe.

Sam looked over at Abby, ‘She’s choosing mine for me.’

Abby could feel the smugness she was radiating from her face. ‘I want her to get a peace sign.’

Tim raised his eyebrows, but Sam shrugged, ‘That’s kinda tacky, but okay.’

WithSam’s approval, Tim turned around and opened a drawer, rifling through sheets of tattoo designs until he pulled out one of a peace sign.

‘Oh that’s perfect.’ Abby chuckled, and Sam rolled her eyes.

‘Where do you want it?’ Tim asked, and Sam pointed to her wrist.

‘Bold.’ Abby said, slightly surprised as Sam rested her arm on a desk where Tim could work on.

‘Go big or go home, right?’

They both watched as Tim carefully copied out the peace sign onto her wrist, arm steady as he pressed down.

‘See,’ Sam said to Abby, once Tim had finished and cleaned up her arm, ‘It doesn’t look so bad.’

‘People will see it and think you’re a stoner.’ Abby pointed out, arms crossed.

Sam waggled her eyebrows, ‘I think it makes me look kinda cool.’

Abby laughed, ‘Sure, okay, if you wanna think like that.’

Tim wrapped Sam’s wrist up, and Sam rose out of the chair, giving her fingers an experimental flex.

‘Thank you,’ she told him earnestly, ‘It looks awesome.’

Abby took Sam’s place in the chair, looking up at her expectantly, ‘Come on then. What should I get?’

Sam’s face morphed slowly into a look that Abby had never seen before. It was delight- pure, evil delight.

‘I want you to get a tattoo of my name.’ she said, and Abby inhaled sharply.

‘What?’

‘Yes,’ Sam mused, looking like she was savouring the moment, ‘A nice sprawly ‘Samantha’. I don’t care where you get it.’

Abby was gaping like a fish. ‘You wouldn’t.’ She said, as if she was seeing Sam for the first time.

Tim was watching their interaction with great interest.

‘Where do you want the tattoo?’ he asked, and Abby couldn’t help but feel trapped as she looked between their two expectant faces.

‘On my hip.’ She finally managed, ‘Well out of sight.’

Sam crossed her arms, ‘That’s fine by me.’

Tim knelt down next to Abby and turned a knob under the chair until she was lying horizontally. Abby pulled down one side of her shorts until her hip was exposed, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this.’ She hissed at Sam, as Tim’s needle came into contact with her skin. Sam shot her an angelic smile.

To Tim’s credit, the tattoo was well-done; even and consistent, but Abby could scarcely believe that she’d got the word ‘Samantha’ etched onto her body for the rest of eternity. She looked at in in horror, fingers tracing the letters.

They paid at the desk and headed back to Sam’s car, Sam still laughing at the look on Abby’s face that didn’t fade.

‘Why your name?’ Abby asked, as they drove back towards campus.

Sam looked over at her as they stopped in front of some traffic lights.

‘I like the idea of having my name on your body.’

Abby, who’d taken a swig of her coffee, nearly spat her iced latte out onto Sam’s upholstery.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s kinda cool, don’t you think? You could be like, ninety, and you would still have a reminder of me on your skin.’

‘It’s not cool.’ Abby retorted, skin a shade of beetroot red, ‘It’s embarrassing. What if I have sex with someone- oh god.’

Sam cackled as the light turned to green, ‘What, you mean like someone pulls off your pants and they just see the word ‘Samantha’ on your hip? If I saw that I’d be highly suspicious.’

Abby aimed at punch at Sam’s arm, ‘Well you’ll never have sex with me, so that’ll never be a problem.’

Sam scoffed, ‘You wish you could get a piece of this rockin’ bod.’

‘No, thanks. I’d rather not be crushed during intercourse.’

Sam’s laughter rang out through the car, echoing off the doors and windows.

So maybe Sam wasn’t the angelic specimen that Abby had her pinned down to be. But if anything, Abby liked her even more for it.

Technically, their season opener was away, but Abby wasn’t sure if she could count driving twenty minutes down the road to play against Northridge as an away game.

In all honesty, Abby wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d felt good in training- pushed by her teammates yet also not completely out of her depth, but she still wasn’t sure how much Coach Snow intended to use her.

Her questions were soon answered as Coach Snow called her over as they waited to board the team bus.

‘I’m starting you today.’ He told her, and Abby’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Thank you, Coach.’ She replied, ‘I won’t let you down.’

‘I want you to get minutes. Don’t panic, just go out there and play your game. Got it?’

Abby nodded, and jogged up the steps onto the bus. Sam tugged on her arm as she walked past her down the aisle, pulling her into the seat next to her.

‘What was that about?’ Sam asked, squinting towards the front of the bus to get a look at Coach Snow.

‘He told me I was starting today.’ Abby told her, unable to hold back her grin. Sam’s face lit up,

‘Seriously? Dude, you deserve it, you’ve been awesome in training.’

Abby glowed with the praise, ‘What about you? Has he said anything to you?’

‘He told me he was starting me yesterday.’ Sam replied, pulling a banana from her back and peeling back the skin. Abby rolled her eyes,

‘Oh, duh. I don’t know why I asked, Miss number-one-recruit-in-the-nation.’

‘Only you would try to bully me with that.’ Sam pouted, offering Abby a bite of her banana.

Contrary to their first few weeks of training, the locker room was quiet and focused before the game. Abby knotted her laces and then unknotted and knotted them again nervously. Next to her, Sam pulled out a book without any explanation, flicked forward to a marked page, and started reading in silence. Syd sat perfectly still in her chair, hands folded across her chest and eyes closed, earbuds jammed in her ear and iPod resting on her lap.

‘Okay ladies,’ Coach Snow said, entering the locker room flanked by his assistant coaches, ‘This is it. Gameday number one. We have a long season ahead of us, but this is the first step on our road to the Championship. Let’s focus on this game, go out and do what we’ve gone over in training, and get the win.’

Abby’s ears thumped with her own heartbeat and the sound of cleats against the polished floors as they walked out of the locker room and into the tunnel, lining up next to the Northridge players who were dressed in white. The sound of a marching band faded in and out from the stands, and nerves suddenly squeezed at Abby’s heart.

Sam’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, ‘Are you ready?’

Abby exhaled, a slight shake in her breathing, ‘Yeah.’

The crowd roared as they stepped out onto the field, and Abby was blinded by the stadium lights as they lined up for the anthem. There were a thousand or so people in the crowd, some waving posters that screamed slogans like ‘Go Matadors!’.

Abby had never played in front of so many people.

‘Here we go girls!’ Syd called from the centre circle as they jogged into position. Abby stretched out, shooting her defensive partner Luce a quick smile.

‘Keeper!’ The ref called, and Chante raised her hand to acknowledge she was ready.

Syd stood over the ball, eyes locked on the ref as he raised the whistle to his lips.

And then they were off, Syd sending the ball back to Sam, and Abby bombed forward.

They established a foothold in the game almost instantly, and Abby’s nerves were a long-forgotten memory by the fifth minute of play. She’d known the team was good, but it was so ridiculously easy to pick out a pass when she received the ball, so easy to slide into position as the defence shifted from side to side. She knew instinctively that they’d have the game won by half-time.

The ball came to Abby at around the thirty minute mark, and there was Caprice, dropping deep and asking for the ball. Abby laid it off and watched as Caprice darted around her player, dropping the shoulder to beat the next. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby noticed Syd striding from the centre-circle towards the box.

‘Look at Syd!’ she called after Caprice, but Caprice had already seen the run and slid a ball into the space between the on-rushing Syd and the defender.

Syd made it there first, because there was no way she wouldn’t. She took one deft touch out of her feet and unleashed a bullet of a shot from her right foot. The Northridge keeper dived, but Syd was already turning away coolly in celebration.

Abby actually squealed in delight, arms shooting into the air in celebration. Syd ran straight into the open-arms of an over-excited Sam, who hoisted Syd high into the air. The bench were on their feet, huge smiles on their faces and clapping wildly. Coach Snow urged them back towards the half-way line.

‘I want another one!’ He called.

They went into the half comfortably in control of the game, but one glance at Coach Snow told Abby that he wasn’t wholly satisfied.

‘We need to create more.’ He told them, as they all sat around sipping from their bottles, ‘More passes forward, more crosses, more shots on goal. Defenders, this starts with you. I want you to be aggressive in this second half. Drive forward, see what passes you can pick out. I’m not asking you to completely lose your heads, but be the catalysts for the attack, draw in defenders. Got it?’

As they jogged back out onto the field for the second half, Abby felt like she’s been playing in the light-blue jersey for years.

She took Coach Snow’s advice to heart too- not shying away from pushing forward with the ball with her feet. It helped that Sam seemed to know exactly what she was going to do before she did it, moving into space to create a passing lane or moving out of space for Abby to run into. After a while, Abby almost stopped thinking entirely, just following whatever her gut instructed her to do.

They won a corner in the seventy-third minute, and Sam bounded into the box, watching Chelsea line up to take the kick like a hawk. Sam dodged past her marker and ran backpost, but Chelsea whipped it in near post- ball swinging in so much the keeper was forced to punch it away off the post, and right into the path of Rosie White.

The crowd was silenced for the second time that game, and Abby was the first to wrap her arms around Rosie’s shoulders.

Exhaustion was the overwhelming feeling Abby felt at the final whistle- she was burnt out from the nerves and the adrenaline, and despite the win she was eager to get back on the bus, go back to campus and drop into bed. Coach Snow seemed to get this, and he gave them a short speech on the field about their approach in the second half that Abby didn’t really listen to, before sending them on their way to the locker room.

Abby welcomed the feeling of hot water on her skin, washing the grime and dirt from her knees and her elbows down the drain. She closed her eyes, feeling the water trickle down her neck.

‘That was a pretty good first game.’ Someone said from her right, and Abby opened her eyes to see Sam leaning over the wall that divided the cubicles, hair wrapped in a towel.

‘Yeah,’ Abby said, reaching for her towel, Sam’s eyes burning into her back, ‘We had a nice thing going in the second half. You read the game really well.’

‘I’ve always wanted a forward playing centre back. I think we’re gonna get along just fine, Miss Dahlkemper.’

‘Like we didn’t before? Did all those coffees mean nothing to you?’

‘I think it’s why we click on the pitch. The coffee connection.’

Abby snickered, ‘Or maybe it’s our tattoos.’

Sam’s eyes widened as she towelled off, reaching for her bra inside the locker.

‘Dude, that could actually be it. Maybe we have some blood connection or something.’

She turned around, and for half a second, Abby could’ve sworn she was Kristie. She blinked a few times, the image of Kristie Mewis’ bun lighting up the computer screen in front of her jumping into her head.

‘Does your sister play this weekend?’ she blurted, before she could stop herself.

Sam frowned, ‘Uh, yeah, I think so. Why?’

‘Oh, I was just wondering. You said she played for Boston College?’

‘Yeah, she’s in her junior season.’

‘Where does she play? Centre-mid?’

Sam’s brow furrowed even more, ‘She does, actually. What’s all this interest in Kristie all of a sudden?’

Abby needed an excuse, fast. ‘My coach made us watch her tape a lot in high school. Said she was the next big thing or whatever.’

Sam beamed, ‘She is. She’s really good. She’ll be going into the league for sure.’

‘What was it like, growing up with a sister who played too?’

Sam started to speak about them pushing one another as she pulled her sweats on, and Abby bit her lip slightly. A wave of paranoia struck her.

Does Sam know that I’m into Kristie?

Abby was suddenly blown away by the force of the realisation. I’m into Kristie. Oh god, I’ve got the hots for Kristie Mewis.

It felt wrong for her to be asking Sam for details. Like she was using her somehow to fuel this fantasy she had in her head about a girl who didn’t even know she existed.

But the thing was, now that she’d asked, Abby was hooked. She wanted to know more, she wanted to know what music Kristie listened to, she wanted to know what shows she watched, what her favourite food was, her favourite colour- everything.

She liked Sam, she genuinely did. She wasn’t just friends with her because she was Kristie’s sister, but Abby’s heart always began to race whenever Sam said her name, or talked about her childhood.

Abby was a mess, and she hated it.

‘Wait, let me get this straight,’ Jamie said, wiping a hysterical tear away from her eyes and sliding down weakly in her chair, ‘You watched this one game of this girl, started crushing on her, and then two years later you wind up on the same college team as her sister?’

Abby coloured slightly and she took a long sip of her water, ‘It sounds bad when you put it like that.’

‘It’s not necessarily bad,’ Jamie replied, ‘It’s just funny. And crazy.’

Abby folded her hands on top of each other on the table, playing with the rings on her fingers.

‘I don’t really know what to do.’

She felt Jamie’s eyes watching her as she leaned forward to take a bite of her salad.

‘It sounds like you really like this Kristie girl.’

Abby groaned, ‘That’s just it. I’ve never met her- I just think she’s cute and she’s really good at soccer and that’s all.’

‘But you still like her.’ Jamie pointed out, twirling her pasta with her fork, ‘You saw her play in one game a couple of years ago and you’re still thinking about her now.’

‘I know. It’s weird. The whole thing is weird.’

‘Why don’t you just tell Sam about it?’

Abby nearly dropped her fork, ‘Are you kidding me? Sam’s her sister. She might think that I’m just friends with her because of Kristie.’

‘I don’t think Sam would see it like that.’ Jamie said doubtfully, but Abby shook her head.

‘I can’t tell her. It’s fine. It’ll probably fade soon anyway.’

Jamie inhaled another mouthful of pasta and chewed thoughtfully.

‘You know, I didn’t think you were into girls.’

Abby glanced up, brow creasing slightly, ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No, not at all. It’s my fault really. I shouldn’t have assumed.’

‘What made you think I wasn’t?’

‘I don’t know. You just seem so… like the token valley girl I guess.’

Abby shrugged, ‘I’ve never really thought about it too much.’

Jamie smirked, ‘You’re still a huge disaster though.’

‘I think I would be even if I wasn’t into my teammate’s sister.’ Abby replied dryly.

‘You’re making it out to be a lot worse than it is. You aren’t overstepping any boundaries here, it’s just a weird coincidence. I’d say go for it.’

‘Dude, I don’t even know Kristie. I can’t really shoot my shot here.’

‘Maybe she’ll come to one of the games.’ Jamie raised her eyebrows, ‘To watch Sam or something. You never know.’

‘Oh, so when she does I’ll be sure to let her know.’ Abby scoffed, words burning with sarcasm, ‘“Oh hey, you must be Sam’s sister- by the way, I have a major crush on you.”’

Jamie’s eyes twinkled, ‘Oh, so it’s major?’

Abby huffed and went back to her salad.

They flew to Knoxville to play games against Tennessee and Florida, and Abby roomed with Sam.

They stayed in a dorm in a student residence hall, with a shower that only sprayed warm water for five minutes and a faulty light switch, and Abby loved every second of it.

She used to hate travelling away for games- it was the lack of familiarity that really put her off, made her feel uncomfortable. Hanging around with Sam had quickly become a staple of her day to day life, and rooming with her was oddly comforting. It helped that Sam seemed to stay unapologetically herself wherever she went; talking Abby’s ear off about a family holiday she’d gone on in Tennessee, causing a momentary panic when she’d claimed that she couldn’t find her cleats and offering Abby some of her strawberry flavoured toothpaste as they stood in front of the sink to brush their teeth at night.

Abby felt like she was carrying a little bit of college life around with her, and she let the sounds of Sam’s slow, long breaths lull her to sleep on the first night.

They scraped past Tennessee, just about edging them out two to one (Abby was first to admit that it wasn’t their finest performance), but she took the win and they prepared to play Florida to close out the preseason.

Coach Snow spent the Saturday in between the games emphasising just how good the Gators were. Abby thought she heard the phrase ‘ranked number eight’ at least a hundred times in their team meeting on the eve of the game alone. Tennessee had been good, he’d insisted, or at least a lot better than Northridge were, but Florida was a different challenge altogether. He spoke so much about Florida’s alternating strikers that Abby’s head started to swim.

She wondered if there was ever going to be a game that she wasn’t nervous for as she stared at the ceiling in bed that night. She envied Sam’s ability to sleep everywhere; on the bus, on the plane, on the sofa. She turned around so she was facing her, and she thought about how Sam looked so young when she slept, wisps of her hair framing her face.

The Gators were good. The Gators were really good. They only played with one striker, which Abby had hoped would make things easier, but the girl shifted between her and Luce, and they struggled to keep up with her speed all game.

Abby felt lucky in the sense that the real battle was in the midfield. Sam seemed like she was on the war path; storming down the field to close down opponents, hip checking them if they ever tried wrestling the ball from her.

She had a good connection with Sam on the field. It was a quiet one- Sam would gesture where she wanted the ball and Abby would put it there- but Abby was always caught off guard by the stoniness of Sam’s expression whenever she caught her eye. The only place she never saw Sam smile was on the field during a game, and it was almost unnerving.

The Gators were good, but Abby knew they were better. Ten minutes from the half, Sam won the ball back in their own half and bulldozed through a couple of players before squaring the ball to Kylie. Kylie took one touch, looked up, and slipped the ball between the centre halves for Ally to run onto.

Ally sent the ball flying past the keeper’s fingertips, and Abby heard Sam let out a load roar.

There was a nervous excitement as they jogged back out for the second half. It was an odd feeling, for them to be outplaying the eight ranked team in the country with a roster consisting of ten freshmen, and Abby wondered if it was all a dream and that it would all come crashing down in the second half.

To some extent it did. Florida sent on their second striker- a lanky brunette- and suddenly they were knocking on the door with every play. Abby was careful not to let the smaller striker get more than two steps in front of her, holding her arm out against her back whenever the striker was fed the ball so she could feel her every twist and turn.

Somehow, they managed to keep the Gators shooting from inside the area, and Abby could almost taste their frustration as another ball flew safely into Katelyn’s gloved hands.

They’d hardly had a single chance since the restart- and Abby wasn’t certain that they’d get many more- but Sarah, who’d come on for Sam, went streaming across the pitch to chase down a defender on the ball. Somehow- Abby didn’t quite see how- the ball came loose, and the next thing she knew, the ball rolled right into the path of Syd, who wasted no time blasting it into the goal, net rippling.

That was the moment where Abby knew they were going to win.

When the final whistle blew, Sam came galloping across the pitch and lifted Abby a foot off the ground like they’d won the national championship.

‘You, my friend, are a brick wall.’ She said seriously, placing Abby back down on her feet.

Abby’s smile was so wide that her cheeks began to hurt, ‘It was a team effort. Those midfielders had nothing on you.’

Sam pulled one of her sleeves back and flexed her bicep, ‘They didn’t get the memo that I’d been in the gym all offseason.’

Syd was awarded the player of the tournament, and Abby swore it was the first time that she’d seen Syd smile since they touched down in Knoxville.

‘Hey, hey, that’s not all!’ Coach Snow called, trying to make himself heard over all the whoops and cheers, ‘We’ve got three more who made the tournament team, and amazingly, they’re all freshmen. Abby, Sam, Ally, congrats. You guys have been huge for us.’

Sam wrapped one arm around Abby’s shoulders and hollered so loudly in her ear that Abby thought she’d gone deaf.

‘Look as us go!’ she grinned, as they walked back into the locker room, and Abby wondered what she’d done to warrant Sam Mewis falling right into her path.

They flew home, and Sammy called the flight attendant back five times to ask for more packets of nuts until Abby begged her not to.

By the time their next game against Pepperdine rolled around, Abby was sick of playing away. Their home opener was set for the next week against Rutgers, and she wished that they could just get the job done in Malibu with minimal fuss and then just get straight back on the bus.

Syd insisted that Pepperdine were no walkover, despite the fact that they were ranked twenty places above them- a fact that Coach Snow confirmed when he talked with great concern about Pepperdine’s freshman forward, some girl called Lynn Williams.

Five days before the game, Sam pulled Abby aside at the end of training.

‘I was thinking,’ she said, helping toss the balls in the bag as Abby tied up her laces, ‘That Malibu is pretty nice this time of year.’

‘I’m glad that you’ve come to that realisation, Sam.’ Abby raised her eyebrows, tossing her cleats into her bag. Sam scowled,

‘What I’m trying to ask is if you wanted to head down to Malibu the day before. I’ve checked your schedule and neither of us have class on Thursday, so I figured we could hit the beach.’

Abby blinked, ‘Actually that does sound kinda nice.’

Sam smirked, ‘Told you. I’ve asked Megan and Caprice if they wanna come, and they said yes, so we could all just pile into my car after lunch and drive down.’

‘Maybe you do have good ideas sometimes.’ Abby admitted, as they headed back across the road towards campus.

‘Yeah, well, I haven’t been to the beach yet so it’s probably about time.’

‘When’s the last time you went to one? Are there even any good beaches in Boston?’

Sam looked mildly offended, ‘Yeah, there are good beaches in Boston, I’ll have you know. I spent my summers there as a kid. Kristie liked to surf, so we kinda went there a lot.’

‘Your sister’s a surfer girl?’ Abby asked casually, picking at her cuticles.

‘A bad one. But she tried, she really did. She had lessons for three years straight.’

‘That’s a shame. If I’d known her I could’ve taught her.’

Sam snorted, ‘You teaching Kristie? That would be a sight.’

Abby couldn’t help but feel a little wounded, ‘You wouldn’t want that?’

‘What? No, that’s not what I meant.’ Sam looked startled, ‘It’s just… you and Kristie would get on well. She’d like you.’

Abby’s heart was beating so hard it felt like it was straining to get out of her chest.

‘What makes you think that?’

Sam shrugged, slowing as they reached the turnoff for her dorm, ‘I don’t know, actually. Just a feeling.’

Abby swallowed deeply and said a quick goodbye, turning on a heel to speed down the street.

In her head, she made a quick mental note.

Kristie liked to surf.

Abby went into the Pepperdine game sporting a glowing tan, and Sam went in with the worst sunburn Abby had ever seen.

‘Oh my god, is it that bad?’ Sam groaned, pinching at her red cheeks in the mirror on her locker. Abby glanced over and winced,

‘Yeah, it’s not great.’

She’d tanned nicely at the beach, but she hadn’t felt quite right since- a little under the weather, her stomach’s contents not sitting quite right inside.

Sam slapped a wet towel onto her face and sat back down in her chair with a huff, resting her head against the locker with a bang.

A lightbulb suddenly went off in Abby’s head.

‘Hey,’ she said, turning to root around in her soccer bag, ignoring the growl of pain from her abdomen, ‘I think I might have- here it is.’

Sam peeked out from under the towel, ‘What?’

Abby was holding a small bottle of something aloft, triumphant look on her face.

‘What is that?’ Sam asked, squinting to make out the label.

Abby grinned, ‘Aloe vera. I always carried it around in my bag for games in high school because people used to get burned all the time. I guess I just forgot to take it out.’

Sam stared at it doubtfully, ‘Does it work?’

Abby shrugged, ‘It doesn’t get rid of the burn, but it does reduce the redness and it’s got a nice cooling effect. Here-’ She squirted some on her palm and dipped one thumb in, getting out of her chair to stand in front of Sam and nudging her knees apart to take her face in her hands. She carefully brushed aloe vera across Sam’s cheeks, careful not to press too hard against the burn. She felt Sam sigh softly- an exhale of breath against her palm- and she smiled, tilting Sam’s cheek slightly to the left so she could apply some on the other cheek.

‘There.’ She said, stepping away from Sam and rubbing the excess aloe vera over her arms, ‘Is that better?’

There was a relaxed smile on Sam’s face, ‘Yeah.’

Coach Snow banged on a locker to get their attention, and Abby went back to her seat, a weird sensation sloshing around in her stomach. She felt a little unsteady on her feet and the room swam in front of her eyes, forcing her to quickly grab onto the back of the chair to stay upright.

Coach Snow talked for ten long minutes about the Pepperdine line-up, but she struggled to comprehend a single sentence. She closed her eyes for a moment, swaying slightly in her seat and took long gulps of water- doing all she could to refocus. When all her teammates rose to their feet around her, Abby found her footing unsteadily, blinking away the black spots that melted into her field of vision.

‘Abby?’ Sam’s voice sounded far away, ‘Are you okay? You look super pale.’

‘I’m fine.’ Abby replied, waving her away and staggering slightly towards the door. She made it halfway down the tunnel before Sam got to her, one of her hands gripping her bicep and the other slipping around her waist.

‘You’re not okay.’

Abby gave her shoulder a feeble shove, ‘Let go of me.’

Sam sighed and stepped away and Abby continued her wobbly advance forward, the odd feeling in her chest fading as she stepped out into the sun. ‘Look, I’m fine.’ She said, once she’d completely regained control of her limbs. Sam gave her a suspicious once over.

‘If you look like that during the game, I’ll tell Coach.’ She warned, but Abby waved her away and jogged into position.

She’d not been lying exactly when she’d said she felt fine. She’d lost her dizziness and for the most part the sickness in her gut had dissipated, but she still didn’t feel quite right.

And it showed. Whatever Coach Snow had said when he warned them about Lynn Williams, he had been right, because she was the fastest striker Abby had ever come up against- not just in physical speed, but also quickness of thinking. Abby trailed after her across the pitch like a wounded dog, launching herself pitifully into tackles several seconds too late. Luce was careful to sweep up the mess Abby left behind, but Abby knew it was only a matter of time.

Two-thirds of the way through the half, the Pepperdine centre back glanced up to look for a pass, and Abby sensed Lynn shift onto the balls of her feet in front of her, preparing to move forwards for the ball. It was the first time Abby had actually managed to keep track of Lynn’s movements and she darted forward, keeping pace with Lynn as she dropped deeper to receive.

The pass came sliding quickly along the floor, and Abby’s adrenaline spiked, propelling her forward past Lynn and into the line of the ball. She reached out with her foot- calves straining to try to poke the ball off course- but she was half a second too late. The ball rolled past her, and Abby’s stomach dropped as she realised Lynn was clean through on goal.

Abby turned around just in time to see the ball in the back of the net and Lynn wheeling away with a cute smile on her face. A numbness spread from her fingers and toes across her whole body, consuming her whole.

‘Hey.’ Sam had jogged over, a cautious look in her eye, ‘Chin up, okay? Let’s just make it to the half.’

Abby nodded dumbly, shuffling back into her position next to Luce, not daring to glance over to read the look on her face.

They went into the half a goal down, and Abby felt like she wanted to start digging her own grave. She made a beeline for the tunnel as soon as the ref blew her whistle, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the ground in front of her. She made it several paces off the field before she was intercepted, Coach Snow’s familiar tennis sneakers striding into view.

‘Come with me.’ He said, in a voice Abby could not read. He guided her away from the tunnel and back towards the recently vacated bench, calling back to one of the staff to tell the rest of the team that he’d be with them soon.

Abby dropped onto the bench, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her palms, desperately trying to swallow a sob.

‘Hey,’ Coach Snow said, and he sounded gentle. Abby felt him kneel down in front of her and he reached out to pry her hands away from her face.

When Abby looked up at him, he looked more worried than anything.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, ‘Is there anything you want to talk to me about?’

Abby wiped the snot from her nose with the bottom of her jersey, startled slightly.

‘I’m just not feeling too good, Coach. A little bit dizzy.’

Coach Snow’s face softened in relief, ‘Okay, that’s fine. Do you want to come off for the second half?’

Abby considered it for half a second, before dipping her head in agreement. Coach Snow rose to his feet and gave her a pat on the back.

‘Drink plenty of water, maybe eat some food.’

He disappeared back into the tunnel, and Abby was left on the bench.

Slowly, she got her breath back- the short, shallow breaths from her lungs slowly expanding into slower, deeper ones. After about five minutes she managed to walk over to grab her water bottle from the crate, making sure not to drink too quickly.

She heard the chatter of her teammates echo out of the tunnel, and her chest squeezed tightly. She perched herself on one end of the bench where none of her teammates sat, and began to peel a banana as slowly as possible.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam redirect her route from the tunnel so she was jogging past her, stopping momentarily to squeeze her shoulder.

‘Don’t worry, we’ve got this. Get some rest.’

Abby didn’t reply, but her eyes were glued to Sam’s retreating form as she took her place back in centre midfield.

As Sam had promised, Pepperdine didn’t get another shot on goal for the rest of the half. Abby’s banana soon lay in a long-forgotten heap on the bench beside her as she kept her eyes glued to the game.

They launched wave after wave of attack, driving the Pepperdine defence back so far that the centre backs were almost aligned with the goal posts, and yet the ball ended up floating harmlessly over the net or into the safe hands of the keeper every single time.

Abby’s hope started to slip away with around five minutes left to play. She fidgeted awkwardly on the bench, suddenly horribly self-aware that it was all her fault.

But there was something in the air- an instinctive feeling in her gut that somehow it could all be rescued. She could tell Sam believed it too, from the way she urged players forward like she was a seasoned senior rather than a freshman.

With two minutes to go, the Pepperdine right-back decided it was time to make for the corner flag, checking over her shoulder for the pressure.

‘Zakiya, go!’ Coach Snow urged from the sideline, and Zakiya did as he asked- sprinting up the wing towards the ball.

For reasons Abby never quite worked out, the Pepperdine defender moved- shifting the ball away from the corner flag and back towards goal, glancing up to check if her keeper could receive a pass. That was when Zakiya pounced- barging her off the ball and whipping a ball into the box with absolutely no hesitation.

Ally Courtnall went barrelling into the box, teeth gritted with exertion, and thumped the ball into the net.

In moments, the bench was on its feet- Abby leaping up with them with a yell, relief pouring into every crevice of her heart. Ally launched herself into Zakiya’s open arms and the rest of the players followed suit, dragging the group down into the turf.

‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ Coach Snow roared, urging them back to the halfway line. ‘We go again!’

Abby chewed nervously at her fingernails for the final few minutes, before collapsing into her seat when the final whistle blew, allowing the stress to drain away. It wasn’t a win- the result they’d truly deserved- but it wasn’t a loss either, and she felt a lot less guilty than she had for most of the game.

Sam locked eyes with her as she finished shaking hands, half-smile growing on her face as she approached.

‘See? I told you we got this.’

‘We didn’t win.’ Abby told her, doubt clutching at her throat like a noose.

Sam lifted one shoulder lightly, looking remarkably relaxed about it all,

‘Hey, Kristie always says it’s better to feel like you wanted to come away with more than to feel like you’ve come away with nothing.’

Abby cocked one eyebrow, ‘Kristie seems very wise.’

Sam snorted a little as they headed down the tunnel,

‘She wishes.’

Abby followed her wordlessly into the locker room, taking another minor mental note:

Kristie is kinda smart.

The way the time passed made Abby’s head spin.

Days felt long- hours dragged on in class, essays ate into her evenings, training pulled her out of bed early in the mornings. Once she finished one thing, there were always three more things to do.

And yet the games started to flash by- moments and goals and teams blending into one another until she could hardly remember what week of the season it was or what the colours were of the other team’s jerseys.

She desperately held on to the moments in training, the moments where Sam did something silly and they all laughed, the moments where Caprice lunged into a challenge far too aggressively for a mere scrimmage, the moments of pure Syd-magic in games where defenders would come undone over her footwork- but they slipped away, replaced every week by a new batch.

Part of the reason for Abby’s goldfish memory was that they won every week. It was almost mechanical, the way they jogged out on the field every weekend and churned out victories. Coach Snow never made it about the opposing side- not mentally at least. Everything was about them, and she allowed herself to become so self-absorbed that the only way she could identify her marker was by their cleats.

Stanford were different, because they were Stanford.

It was the first time that Abby got the feeling that Coach Snow was more worried about how the other team would play rather than how they would play. Team meetings suddenly revolved around how to shut down their attack than how to break down their defence.

Abby was terrified. Terrified to the extent that the mere thought of having to play away in front of the Cardinal crowd was enough to keep her up late into the night, shivering in her sheets as Jamie lay passed out in the bed across.

She loved rooming with Jamie, but she almost wished that they were travelling across the country for the game and staying in some dingy motel just so she could hear Sam’s familiar snores.

They travelled upstate to face Stanford, and Abby’s knee bounced up and down the whole way. Sam, who had passed out on the seat next to her almost as soon as they sat down, looked enviably peaceful.

Abby gave her a gentle shove on the shoulder as they pulled into the stadium drive and Sam’s eyes slowly blinked open, brows furrowing as she oriented herself once more.

‘I don’t know how you sleep like that.’ Abby told her, reaching under her seat to grab her stuff.

‘Like what?’

‘So easily when we’re on the way to games.’

‘Oh, I can sleep anywhere.’ Sam proclaimed, twisting her cap round on her head so it shaded her face as they stepped down off the bus. ‘We used to drive down to Philly to see some family friends every year and I used to sleep the whole way.’

‘You sound like a really boring road trip buddy.’

‘For sure. Kristie used to complain about how the car was always so quiet.’

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

‘You would think so. Kristie loves to talk though so it was probably hell for her.’

Again, Abby stored the little tidbit of knowledge away in her brain. She’d built up a pretty good image of Kristie from what Sam said about her. In some ways, she sounded exactly like Sam, but in others they were almost opposites.

The months had blended from September into October and then into early November, but Abby had hardly noticed- the only difference between the games had been a chill that had started to sweep across the pitch in the second half every now and then to remind them that winter was approaching. She’d taken to wearing an extra layer during warm ups just in case- a habit that Sam routinely scoffed at.

‘Dude, it’s like sixty degrees.’ She said, picking at Abby’s sweater as they walked out for warm ups.

Abby hugged at her sweater defensively, ‘Just because you’re used to the cold doesn’t mean you get to laugh at us who aren’t.’

Sam pursed her lips, ‘Hanson is cold but it’s not that cold. You’re just being a baby.’

‘How does it being cold equate to me being a baby?’ Abby protested, tugging her sweater sleeves over her hands and passing Sam the ball.

‘Only kids complain about the cold.’

‘Good thing I have this sweater then, so I won’t be complaining.’

Sam nudged the ball in front of her with the outside of her foot and sent the pass rolling back.

‘On the topic of cold weather- I was wondering if you wanted to come to Boston for Thanksgiving?’

‘What?’ Abby was so distracted that the ball rolled under her foot.

‘I get if you wanna be home for the holidays or whatever, but I just wondered if you’d wanted to spend it with me.’ Sam called as Abby chased the loose ball down, ‘It’s just an offer.’

‘I’ll have to ask my mom.’ Abby replied, dribbling back to her previous spot, ‘I’d planned to go home.’

‘Yeah, of course. I don’t want you to feel like you have to come or anything, it’s just that Kristie always has friends over and-’

‘-I’d like to come.’ Abby blurted, interrupting her. Sam blinked, then a slow smile slowly spread across her face.

‘You mean that?’

‘Yeah. I’d still have to check with my folks but I think they’d let me.’

Abby wasn’t sure, but there seemed to an extra spring in Sam’s step as they regrouped for the jog,

‘I really hope you come.’ She whispered, as they rounded the first corner of the pitch.

Abby cheeks hurt a little as tried to keep her grin from expanding,

‘Me too.’

They lost to Stanford.

They let in four in the first half and Abby gave the ball away in the six- a momentary lapse of concentration that ended up being the final nail in the coffin.

And she felt so tired after the game. Tired of letting it slip when it mattered most, tired of being the weak link in the defensive line, tired of feeling like she didn’t deserve to be there.

Because she’d never felt good enough. She’d not been able to play that defence-splitting ball from inside her own half like Luce could, she’d not been able to drive up the pitch and make things happen like Megan could, she’d not been able to keep her head whenever the opposition striker came to close her down.

She’d won awards. She’d heard through the grapevine that she was in the running to make the PAC-12 team of the year and that she was being eyed up by the U20’s. She’d played well in almost every game that year. Almost.

She was nowhere to be seen when the stakes were high, and she knew that was when it really counted. When the scouts really sat up and watched and took notes in those little black booklets of theirs.

Coach Snow started her, week in, week out, no matter what the result was. He’d called her into his office after the Pepperdine game and asked her once again if there was anything he could do for her.

Abby had said no, because there wasn’t.

When the ref finally put the whistle to her lips and put Abby out of her misery, her mind went blank. She shook the Stanford player’s hands, barely acknowledging the pitiful yet slightly smug smiles on their faces, and wondered how soon she could go home.

People at her high school games had always expressed their surprise whenever she told them she wanted to be a pro-soccer player, and she felt that maybe they were a little bit justified.

The bus, normally loud and boisterous after games, felt like a church. Heads were kept down, voices were hushed, lights were dimmed. Abby made it to her seat long before Sam did and she curled up against the window, closing her eyes and praying that the evening traffic had cleared up.

She heard Sam take the seat next to her a few minutes later but she kept her eyes firmly shut, and Sam didn’t say a word for the whole journey.

Abby had been first on the bus and she was also first off it, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to get away, to get some fresh air. It felt good for her to be back on home turf- like the feeling of falling into bed after a long vacation away. She wondered briefly if Jamie was still awake, and if she wanted to go get a burger.

‘Abby!’ came Sam’s call from behind her, and her heart lifted, almost like she’d been waiting for her to break the silence. Sam half walked, half jogged along the pavement to catch up to her, and she dropped her bag onto the curb and pulled Abby in as tightly as possible. That was when the tears came- with her face pressed into the fabric of Sam’s t-shirt, on the corner of an LA street.

‘Hey,’ Sam said, and Abby tried to stop herself from shaking so much.

Sam just stood there, one hand around Abby’s waist, one pressing down comfortingly on her shoulder, and let her ride the wave out.

‘There we go.’ She muttered, as Abby’s breathing evened out. ‘Take it easy.’

Abby stepped away, suddenly embarrassed, and winced at the sight of the damp patch on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam put her hands on Abby’s shoulders and caught her eye.

‘I hope you like pigs in blankets,’ she said seriously, ‘Because my mom makes a lot of them at Thanksgiving.’

Abby laughed wetly, rubbing at her eyes with the palms of her hands, ‘I do. I like them a lot.’

Sam picked up her bag and tucked Abby’s arm in hers, steering her down the pavement.

‘Good. Let’s go get a shake- In-N-Out doesn’t close till midnight.’

Abby tried not to think about Kristie. She spent the week before Thanksgiving asking all her teammates about their plans, tiptoeing around talking about talking about her visit to Boston.

In retrospect, it had been a stupid idea. A really really stupid idea.

Her mom had been fine with it- encouraged her, even, to go and experience Thanksgiving somewhere else for a change. As long as she was home for Christmas.

Sam talked about it non-stop. She showed Abby pictures of her family, pointed out the ones worth talking to, the ones worth avoiding, the weird ones.

Abby avoided looking at Kristie entirely.

Packing for the trip made Abby the most stressed she’d been in a long time- she asked Sam countless times about what she should wear and whether she should bring gifts. Sam was almost no help, waving her away with a laugh and telling her to wear what she was comfortable in and bring gifts if she felt like it.

Abby ended up over packing- Jamie spent the best part of an hour kneeling on her suitcase as Abby tried to zip it shut. The sun had dipped deep below the horizon when Jamie finally told her, without much patience, to leave some clothes behind.

She dreamt of Kristie that night.

‘Hey,’ Abby said, squinting at the view from the window, ‘I think I can see Boston.’

Suddenly she was pressed back into her seat as Sam leaned across to get a look out the window. Her eyes softened at the sight.

‘It must feel good to be back.’ Abby said, once Sam had retreated out of her space.

‘Yeah. I didn’t miss it really during the semester but now we’re nearly home I’m really looking forward to it.’

‘I bet your family missed you lots too.’ Abby replied, taking a sip of diet coke from her plastic cup.

Sam chuckled, ‘They missed me enough to send me an email almost every day.’

Abby’s eyes widened, ‘Geez. I’m lucky if I got one every week.’

Their flight was packed; full of folks returning home for the holiday. Every time the toddler behind them wailed, Abby counted her blessings that they had the mid-morning flight rather than an evening one.

Sitting next to Sam on a flight was an experience Abby had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, Sam’s shoulder was at the perfect height for her to lean against during her numerous attempts to nap, but on the other, Sam nearly knocked over her coffee twice as she reached down to grab her water bottle from the seat pocket in front of her.

Once they had landed and the seatbelt sign was finally turned off, Sam hauled herself to her feet with a groan, stretching out completely.

‘Can you grab the stuff from the overhead bin?’ Abby asked while she unclipped her seatbelt, eyes glued on the little sliver of Sam’s midriff that had been exposed as she stood on her tiptoes and reached upwards with her arms.

Sam passed down her backpack and slid back into the seat next to her as they waited for the doors to open and for the long line stretching down the aisle to thin.

There was something odd about stepping into Sam’s family home that Abby couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was exactly the kind of house she’d envisioned Sam living in- a large driveway and garage, picket fence lining the front yard, firewood piled up on the porch.

Maybe it was because she’d only known the LA version of Sam. The version of Sam who bulldozed everyone in games with a smile on her face. The version of Sam who slathered herself in sunscreen whenever she went outside and still got sunburned. The version of Sam who got absolutely wasted at frat parties and who turned up to training a day later without even the barest hint of a hangover. The kind of Sam who drove around in cars in tank tops and shorts.

A different Sam to the one in the pictures up on the walls. Baby Sam, with her fringe, hands clasped behind her summer dress. Middle school Sam, with a gap tooth and her Harry Potter t-shirts. High school Sam, in her oversized jersey, wild halo of hair sticking out.

Abby felt a little jolt as she watched Sam pull off her boots on the doormat. Sam had wanted her to come home with her for Thanksgiving. Sam had wanted her to meet her family.

It felt like Sam wanted them to be closer than just college friends and teammates.

There was a stab of guilt there, too. She’d been so wrapped up in thinking about Kristie and then thinking about not thinking about Kristie that she’d not really thought about what it meant to Sam.

‘Welcome to Casa Mewis.’ Sam said with a laugh, kicking her shoes off on the mat and steering Abby into the house. ‘Sorry, it’s kinda messy.’

Abby looked down at the neatly dusted floor and raised an eyebrow.

‘This is messy?’

Sam grabbed Abby’s suitcase from outside the door and nodded in the direction of the stairs, urging Abby along. They stepped onto the landing at the top and Sam forged ahead, pushing her way into one of the rooms.

Sam’s bedroom looked like it had been preserved as part of a museum. Old posters of players and movie stars lined the wall next to her bed, slightly faded, but still stuck on firmly. Sam’s medals and trophies lined the shelves of a cabinet, taking on the dull metallic hue of ageing metal. The bed was evenly made, without a crease to be seen- until Sam collapsed onto her bedsheets and let out a deep dramatic sigh.

‘How often do your folks clean this room?’ Abby laughed, running her finger along the top of the chest of drawers and feeling the smooth wood underneath the tip rather than a layer of dust.

Sam grinned, ‘Way too often. They always say they want it ready if I ever come home suddenly and need it.’

Abby’s mouth quirked upwards in a smile. ‘That’s cute.’

‘It’s kinda creepy. They must look through my stuff all the time.’

‘Anything worth hiding?’

Sam winked at her, ‘I packed properly for college, don’t worry.’

Abby snorted, ‘So where am I sleeping?’

‘On here.’ Sam replied, patting the bed. She looked almost nervous. ‘Sorry, we don’t have a ton of space so I’ll have to sleep on the floor, if that’s okay?’

Abby’s heart ached for a second, words of assurance rushing to the back of her throat. She’d not had a ton of space growing up either.

‘Of course,’ she replied quickly, ‘Are you sure you don’t want the bed?’

Sam waved her away, ‘You’re the guest. I like sleeping on a mat anyway. Oh and by the way, my mom said she’s emptied one of the drawers for you to put some stuff in, over there-’

The room felt like it was Abby’s as much as it was Sam’s.

‘Hey Aunt Jackie!’ Sam greeted, plastering a huge grin on her face and giving the little silver-haired lady at the door a huge hug, ‘Go on through to the living room, Mom and Dad are waiting.’

Abby watched as the smile dropped to resemble something of a tired frown as soon as Aunt Jackie disappeared down the hallway.

‘I always forget about this part.’ Sam said to her, twisting her head around slightly to look back, ‘Who knew meeting people would be so exhausting?’

‘Don’t you wanna be a pro soccer player?’ Abby replied, leaning against the stair railings. Sam scoffed,

‘A few fans are nothing compared to Aunt Jackie when she’s had a few drinks in her. Thank god Kristie’s bringing a girl back so she’ll be the one being asked all the questions.’

Abby’s mind whirred, ‘Kristie’s bringing a girl back? Like her girlfriend?’

Sam turned around completely to face her, eyebrows raised. ‘Yeah, her girlfriend. Is that a problem with you?’

‘No,’ Abby spluttered, realising how it’d sounded, ‘No way, not at all. I was just surprised.’

Sam softened slightly, ‘Me too, at first. She’s sweet though. They’ve been together a couple of months- Uncle Roger! How’s Tommy?’

Abby excused herself, slipping down the hallway towards the dimly lit bathroom under the stairs. She lowered herself shakily onto the toilet, thumbs brushing anxiously at the inside of her knees.

It was a mistake coming here.

She hadn’t been thinking. Sam was her friend- she couldn’t just throw a spanner in the works for the sake of some dumb teenage crush.

Abby’s face dropped into her hands. Get it together. This doesn’t have to be weird.

She couldn’t afford to make it weird. She couldn’t risk Sam finding out.

Abby jumped a little at the sound of the door latch shaking as someone outside tried to push the door open.

‘One minute!’ she called, shuffling over to the sink to wash her hands under the running water.

‘Abby!’ Sam called, as Abby skirted around a group of dads in intense discussion by the door, ‘Over here.’

Sam was standing behind the couch with a short, dark-haired girl, and another blonde who looked a little like Sam.

Kristie.

Abby swallowed and let her feet carry her forwards.

Sam’s arm came round excitedly around her shoulders.

‘Abby, this is Kristie, my sister.’

She was tall, taller than she’d appeared to be, but almost everything else about her was exactly how Abby had pictured her to be. She looked like a pro soccer player- tanned, straight blonde hair, smooth skin. She hit Abby with a glittering smile, and Abby almost melted on the spot.

‘Nice to meet you, Abby.’ She said, but her voice didn’t seem right. Abby had been expecting the slow drawl of a Californian, but Kristie sounded… exactly like Sam.

‘Nice to meet you too.’ Abby replied, warding off the nerves that ate into her words.

‘Hey, I’m Maddie.’ The girl by Kristie’s side said, extending a hand across for Abby to shake. Abby’s fingers went numb as she grasped her hand.

‘How was the drive?’ Sam asked brightly, and Abby took a few moments to collect herself.

It was okay. She was okay. This was normal.

‘Hey,’ Sam asked her, when they were halfway through Thanksgiving dinner, ‘Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet.’

Abby wanted to tell her that her nerves had been shot since she helped Kristie refill her punch, but instead she just gave her head a tiny nod.

‘Yeah I’m good. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess. I’ve never had Thanksgiving with more than eight people.’

Sam’s hand made its way to her back. ‘If it gets too much, just let me know, we can go outside.’

Abby shot her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks.’

‘Samantha!’ The shrill call silenced the rest of the talk down the table, and heads turned to face the speaker. Sam put on a quick grimace that only Abby saw, before smoothly putting on her smile.

‘Yes, Aunt Jackie?’

Aunt Jackie, who was seated further along on the opposite side of the table, put down her wine glass and narrowed her eyes. Her cheeks were a little pink from the warmth and the alcohol.

‘Another year and still no boy in the house!’

Chuckles of laughter skittled down the table.

‘No, Aunt Jackie.’ Sam replied earnestly, resting her elbows on the table, ‘No boys yet.’

Aunt Jackie sniffed, ‘Kristen, what about you?’

Kristie, who was sat opposite Abby and Sam, carefully placed down her fork.

‘I’ve been with Maggie for six months now, Jackie. I told you that.’

There was a huff, ‘I’ve always been waiting for the day when one of you two will finally bring a man home for Thanksgiving, but you both seem hell bent on avoiding it.’

Kristie’s eyes flashed a little, and Abby chewed at her lip.

‘Maybe next year.’ Sam said, eyes flicking between her Aunt and Kristie.

Aunt Jackie hummed, eyes moving along from Sam and locking onto Abby’s.

‘Amy? What about you?’

‘Uh-’ Abby stuttered, unsure how to reply, ‘I’m not sure-’

‘It’s okay.’ Kristie butted in, shooting her a look that made Abby’s stomach churn, ‘You don’t have to answer that.’

The entire table had stopped their conversations at that point, and Abby could tell they were watching with bated breath.

‘It’s alright, Kristen,’ Aunt Jackie said, taking another unsteady swig of her wine, ‘Once you’re done with that girl I’m sure Amy will be happy to-’

Kristie’s chair grated a little bit as she rose out of her seat, balling the napkin on her lap into her fists.

‘Jackie, that’s enough.’ Sam’s mom called, looking down sternly from the head of the table, ‘Abby, I’m so sorry-’

Abby felt the heat of her stomach acid bite at the back of her throat.

‘Excuse me.’ She muttered, sliding quickly out of her seat.

She managed to make it a full five feet to the porch balcony outside before she leaned over and spewed the contents of her stomach onto the Mewis’ bushes.

Suddenly Sam’s fingers were digging gently into her neck.

‘That’s it,’ she said, voice like a distant echo, ‘Get it all out.’

Abby’s stomach lurched again, and she coughed up a fresh wave.

‘Sorry about your bushes.’ She choked out, straightening up.

Sam’s fingers were on her waist, keeping her upright.

‘Don’t worry about it.’ She said quietly, ‘Do you still need to hurl?’

Abby shook her head, so Sam guided her back into the warmth of the house, leading her up the stairs and back into her bedroom.

‘Take this.’ Sam instructed, handing her the bin beside her bed. Abby wrapped her arms around the cool metal and perched herself on the edge of her bed, watching Sam shut the door behind them and flick on the light.

For a moment, neither of them said a word.

‘I’m so sorry about that.’ Sam said, finally, her voice low and a little pained.

‘It’s fine.’ Abby wiped away a dangling thread of saliva from her mouth, ‘It didn’t bother me.’

She wondered if she was going to get into the habit of lying to Sam.

‘Still.’ Sam murmured, rummaging through the cupboards, ‘She should never have said it. I’m really sorry.’

She looked stricken, and Abby felt awful.

‘It’s not your fault, seriously. If anyone should be apologising, it’s me. I think I just ruined your Mom’s gardening plans.’

Sam turned around with a blanket in her arms, and she draped it around Abby’s shoulders.

‘To be honest, it’ll probably be good for the plants.’

Abby laughed. It was a real laugh.

‘Who knew Thanksgiving could be so crazy?’

There was another pause.

‘Thank you.’ Sam said, eyes fixed on the fingers folded on her lap, ‘For coming with me. I know you probably wanted to be at home with your parents.’

‘Sam?’ Abby said, shuffling over on the bed. ‘I’m having a lot of fun.’

The dimple in Sam’s cheek gave away the smile. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Get on the touchline, ladies!’ Coach Snow called, tucking his hands into his pockets. Abby queued up behind the line of warm-up cones, rolling her shoulders back and clicking her neck to get rid of the nerves. San Diego were playing keep-ball in their half of the pitch and she watched them, entranced. Watching other teams warm up always made her nervous. It ignited that flicker of doubt in the back of her mind- and once it caught hold, it was almost impossible to think about anything else.

There was suddenly a rough shove in her back and Abby stumbled forwards, picking up the pace quickly to catch up with the other line, who had set out seconds before.

‘Pay attention, doofus.’ Megan breathed from behind her. Abby glanced back and Megan placed both hands either side of her eyes like horse blinders. Abby nodded. Yes. Focus.Got it.

Drake Stadium was beautiful under the lights. Even in the winter, Abby could see a thin strip of orange on the horizon, the barest sliver of light beaming across the sky. The crowd was a healthy one, even for a fourth-round match, and the noise gave Abby goosebumps as she jogged back into the locker rooms for the team talk.

It didn’t feel like a crucial knock-out game. Coach Snow spent five minutes outside their locker room speaking amiably to the San Diego coach. Syd was stretched out in her chair, feet propped up on another chair, head tilted back, eyes closed. Caprice yawned and readjusted her prewrap.

Abby wondered sometimes if she was the only one who felt any nerves at all. Sam was always impassive pre-game- sat perfectly still in her chair, facing dead ahead. The look in her eye made Abby squirm.

When it came to soccer, Sam was perfectly serious.

‘Alright,’ said Snow, finally pushing his way into the locker room, ‘Not too much to say tonight. You all know what to do at this point. The whole season has been preparation leading up to a game like this- if you’re uncertain in any way, maybe you shouldn’t be in this program.’

Abby gulped.

‘Bring it in!’ came the call, and they all shuffled forward to the middle of the room, a sea of hands stretching out to meet in the centre.

‘What time is it?’ Syd asked.

‘Game time!’ they all roared in reply, Abby’s voice joining in fractions of a second too late.

The sounds of their cleats against the concrete stirred the crowd into a frenzy, shouts of ‘Go Bruins!’ echoing wildly across the field even as San Diego lined up for kick off.

Abby bounced lightly on her toes, shooting a brief glance at Megan, who was lined up alongside her. The sharp nod she got in return was the last thing she saw before the whistle trilled.

The San Diego striker sent the ball all the way back to the centre-back, before turning and barrelling down the field towards them.

‘I got her-’ Megan called, shifting over to pick her up, ‘You push onto the ten.’

Abby caught up to the number ten, who had shifted on to her side to follow the movement of the ball.

She hated marking tens.

The ball had made its way back to the big San Diego centre back, who tipped her head upwards to scan the field, before launching the ball down towards their third. Abby watched the ball drop at the winger’s feet perfectly and began to track back a little, getting ready to cover for Megan.

‘Abby, Abby, stay!’ came a roar from the sideline, so Abby stayed.

She watched as the winger cut in past Amelia, leaving her twisting in the dirt.

She watched as the ball was slid into the San Diego striker.

She watched Megan lunge almost clumsily with her left foot, stretching out to poke the ball away.

She watched the striker get there first, dragging the ball away from her studs.

She watched the striker tug her leg back, like a snake ready to strike.

She watched the ball fly into the net.

Abby had never heard a crowd be silenced so fast. The San Diego bench were up on their feet, scarcely believing their luck. Coach Snow aimed a hefty kick at an unfortunately placed water bottle. Katelyn picked the ball out of the net, hoofing it back towards where Syd was waiting at the halfway line, before jogging over to help Megan up off the floor. Megan had gone as white as a sheet.

Abby felt a strange sense of calm. She jogged back into position, letting the tension flow out of her body with each step.

She wasn’t sure if it could get any worse than conceding two minutes into a knockout game against an unranked opponent.

Unsurprisingly, the ball never ended up back in their third for the rest of the half. Abby was resigned to watching Courtney and Rosie launch cross after cross after cross into the San Diego box, Syd dragging herself to the dirt every time in attempts to latch onto one. Sam was a whirlwind, sweeping up any loose balls and sending them catapulting back out to the wingers, or taking pot-shots at goal.

Nothing worked. The San Diego defence stood firm, the keeper always quick off her line. When the halftime whistle went, Rosie’s head was stooped so low that Abby was almost worried it would go crashing into the turf.

There was a long moment of silence in the locker room as they all guzzled from their bottles. Abby watched Sam’s knee bounce up and down, and her jaw tightened.

‘Get those heads up!’ barked Coach Snow, knocking loudly on the whiteboard. Twenty or so glum faces looked up.

‘We’ve got forty-five minutes left to turn this around. We’re playing well, we have nearly all of the ball- the only problem is we can’t score.’

‘That’s a pretty big problem.’ Muttered Syd, teeth grinding against the head of her water bottle.

‘Agreed.’ Said Coach Snow, nodding along. ‘They know how we play, and they’re holding us back nicely. So what do we do?’

There was silence once more. Rosie shifted slightly in her seat.

‘We surprise them.’ Said Sam, leaning back in her chair. Coach Snow pointed at her with the whiteboard marker.

‘Bingo. We mix it up. Wingers, swap wings. Caprice, maybe you drop back occasionally, Sam, maybe you make those runs in behind. We have to catch them off guard, got it?’

The response he got made the lockers shake.

There was ten minutes left on the clock, and Abby wasn’t sure how much closer they could get. The ball had come off every post, been cleared off the line, whistled nanometres past the post, been tipped over the bar- but the ball would not go into the goal.

Abby knew they were all beginning to wonder if it was just one of those nights.

The crowd egged them on. Caprice sent in corner after corner after corner. The San Diego defence were pushed so deep into their third that they were stationed along the six yard box.

Abby felt like crying already.

Amelia jogged up to take a throw, and Caprice trapped it neatly under her foot. Unimpressed, the San Diego player marking her gave her a nudge and Caprice toppled over, hands coming up to appeal for the foul even as she was falling. The crowd jeered and booed as the offending midfielder jogged off nonchalantly back to the defence, leaving Caprice to pick herself up from the turf.

‘Up!’ Coach Snow roared, making huge sweeping motions with his arms, ‘Get up!’

Abby left Megan manning the backline and joined the crowd of bodies pressed up against each other on the top of the box. Caprice stamped on the dirt, twisting the ball until it rested firmly, glancing up for a target as she stepped back. The crowd calmed down, a nervous hush descending.

Caprice overhit it. Abby could tell almost as soon as it left her foot, and she knew the San Diego defence could tell too- the girl on her arm relaxing the grip on her waist ever so slightly.

She broke free, pelting towards the back post as the ball first arched over the head of Courtney, then Syd, then Sam. Abby got to it right on the baseline, trapping it with the outside of her foot to keep it in play.

She had no time to glance up- she could hear the opposing right back almost breathing down her neck- so she just looped it back into the writhing mass of bodies, and prayed.

Jenna’s head rose to meet it, forehead almost crunching against the ball, directing it down low into the ground, towards the corner of the goal.

It bounced over a defender’s outstretched leg and finally, finally, trickled over the goal line.

The roar of the stadium was more from relief than joy.

They went again. They pushed more and more and more. Megan was left as the last defender, pacing back and forward along the halfway line. The San Diego striker had dropped right to the top of the box.

The final whistle went, but play resumed for overtime just minutes later. The ball spent twenty excruciating minutes pinballing about in the final third.

Abby fell to her hands and knees as the ref blew her whistle to signify the end of the second overtime.

Penalties.

She hated penalties.

‘Who’s taking?’ Coach Snow asked, as they gathered round him once more. Hands shot into the air. Sam’s hand rose highest.

Abby hated everything about penalties, even if she wasn’t taking. She hated the feeling of nervous hands squeezing her waist on the halfway line. She hated the tension. She hated watching her teammates take the long, lonely path to the penalty spot. They always felt so far away- so beyond help.

Chelsea went first. She sauntered up, chomping at her gum, and sent the ball wide of the post. Abby tipped her head back and stared at the sky. There was no hint of orange left.

But Katelyn saved the next- diving to her right to palm the shot away. The roar from Abby’s mouth sounded inhuman.

The keepers traded another set of saves- and then it was Sam’s turn. She broke free of the line, covering the distance quickly with her long strides. Abby stared at her back, the number twenty-two winking at her under the lights.

Sam put the ball down, took two steps back, and launched the ball into the top right. The net bulged and the crowd erupted, hoots raining down from the stans. Sam turned on her heel- eyes latching onto Abby’s for just a second, and she flashed her the barest hint of a smile.

San Diego equalised- only for Charney to put them right back in front. Katelyn jumped up and down on her line, waving to try to put the San Diego striker off. The shot flew well wide.

Caprice was last to take- Abby released the grip on her shoulder to let her go and listened to the screams of encouragement that followed her towards goal. Abby’s eyes closed as Caprice put the ball down, and she let her head fall.

The shrieks of delight from the San Diego players and the tightening of Zakiya’s hand on her waist told Abby what she needed to know about the kick. When she looked up again, Caprice was staggering back to the line, face buried in her shirt.

San Diego equalised. Chelsea missed. San Diego’s tiny number ten skipped up to the mark, and Abby’s heart dropped.

The ball hadn’t even hit the back of the net before Abby’s face was in her hands, numbness already spreading around her body.

Next to her, she heard a thud as Sam dropped to her knees.

Abby was a last-in, first-out kind of girl on game days- but that night she took her time, taking long sips from the bottle and slowly peeling off her shin pads while the rest of her teammates hit the showers.

The night hadn’t been particularly cold but her fingers were numb from shock, and she cursed as she struggled to tug down her socks.

Caprice had been inconsolable. Syd had been stony-faced. Megan had nearly swallowed a fingernail in her effort to stop herself from crying.

Abby had just stood still and listened. She’d just felt tired.

And she hadn’t dared look at Sam.

Abby glanced over at Sam’s station next to her. It remained untouched- a preserved moment from Coach Snow’s halftime team talk.

God, that felt like decades ago.

She’d not seen Sam come in, and her towel was still hanging on its hook. Her duffel bag full of clothes was stuffed under the chair. Abby struggled to her feet, padding over to the door of the locker room. The tunnel was empty- vacated long ago by coaches and fans alike.

By chance, Abby happened to glance down the tunnel at the pitch. Sam’s figure was illuminated on the centre circle. She was sat facing away from Abby, legs stretching out in front of her, leaning back on the palms of her hands. She was staring at the sky.

Abby walked onto the pitch, not even flinching as the damp grass wet the soles of her socks. She approached Sam wordlessly, knees creaking as she settled cross-legged opposite her.

For the first time, Sam didn’t acknowledge her.

‘It’s almost Christmas.’ Abby said eventually, absentmindedly picking at the blades of grass.

Sam slowly dragged her eyes down from the heavens to meet hers. They were a solemn blue.

‘It’ll be nice for you to be home again. With your Mom.’

‘Yeah. We make mince pies together every year.’

‘I’m more of a cookie person.’

Abby wrinkled her nose. ‘No way.’

Sam tilted her head slightly, ‘What’s your favourite Christmas movie?’

Abby narrowed her eyes, trying to read Sam’s face. ‘Home Alone, no question.’

Sam scoffed, falling onto her back to stare at the sky again. She didn’t reply.

It took Abby a few minutes to see the tears glistening on her cheeks.

‘Hey.’ She said, rapping Sam’s knee with her knuckle. ‘I worked out why I vomited all over your porch at Thanksgiving.’

‘Yeah?’ came Sam’s reply, voice thick.

Abby swallowed.

‘It’s because I am really, really, really into your sister.’

Sam scrambled forwards, eyes bugging out.

‘What?’

‘Yup.’

‘How-’

‘I saw her play.’ Abby continued, looking anywhere but Sam’s face, ‘I saw you both play, in that U17 World Cup final. And I guess I just started crushing, and then I came here, and I met you, and I felt like I was losing my mind, and I’m sorry for not telling you before but-’

Sam started to laugh. She laughed so hard that she shook, clutching at her stomach and rolling around on the grass. Abby watched her, open mouthed. Then she started to chuckle too, even though she felt her cheeks burning from embarrassment.

There was always next year.