The Space Between Us

Chapter 19 ~ Sweat

---River's POV---

I was happy to have a full home stadium to play for; the fans always gave me a boost to play my best. While the team and I warmed up, I glanced over the benches and saw some fan signs with my name on them. One even had my picture.

I couldn't find Holly, though. She said she would be here tonight, so she was seated up there somewhere. For some reason, it made me a bit nervous.

I led the team back into the soccer building right before the game was about to begin. As captain, I gave a short pep talk, and then we listened to Coach explain some key things to remember from the other team.

Soon enough, we were jogging onto the pitch and getting into positions. I put my hair into a low, messy man bun. As a striker, I was up top, ready to score a goal. I had to do it for the team.

And... part of me wanted to impress a certain someone who was here.

The game started with a whistle from the referee, and a great cheer rose from the packed stadium. I surged forward, using the energy from the crowd to propel myself during those beginning moments when every player had endless energy to spend.

We got control of the ball fairly early, but I already knew this was going to be a battle. The other team had a strong defense. When I didn't have the ball, I was studying their defensive players, trying to find patterns and pockets where I could potentially strike.

About fifteen minutes into the game, I had my chance. I got the ball and found a pocket, and I sprinted like a madman toward the corner near the goal. I went around one defensive player with a simple fake, and I could hear the crowd react with a distant roar somewhere behind me.

I crossed the ball in toward the goal, and a teammate got it, but he got stuck and couldn't find an opening to score. I swung behind him, he passed it to me, and I delivered a powerful kick. It sailed over the goalie's outstretched arms, nestling into the corner of the net.

Goal!

"YEAH RIVER!" said Benji, rushing over and practically jumping on top of me in celebration. Several other teammates did the same, all with big smiles on their faces.

The other team came back stronger after our goal, fired up and wanting a goal of their own. The worst part of being a striker was being so far away from my own team's goal. I wasn't close enough to help, and I watched as the other team scored.

In the moment of my team's sad retreat as we reset in the middle, I glanced to the stands and saw someone I wished that I didn't.

My dad.

My brain went into overdrive. What was he doing here? What was his motive for being here?

I heard the ref's whistle from somewhere in the back of my mind, but it wasn't until I saw a player rush past me that I snapped out of my thoughts.

At least, I thought I had. When I got the ball and moved toward the other team's goal, I made a mistake in my pass, and it went right to the other team instead of my own. I could feel the disappointment and anger in my dad's eyes, even from here.

I got the ball and tried to make a run a couple of other times, but the other team was getting scared of me. Their players, twice, tripped me instead of letting me take the ball down the field. The second time I went down, the player who made me fall was actually sent off with a red card, much to our fans' delight. I got up on unsteady feet, my shoulder aching.

Thankfully, the referee called for half-time, and we exited the field.

Coach wasn't happy with us in the locker room.

"I was expecting more from you!" he shouted. He glared straight at me. "Especially from some of you."

I looked away.

He continued: "If you can't win this game, you are sorry excuses for a soccer team. Now, get out there and PULL THIS OFF."

I used the anger and frustration I felt to add energy to my step. I knew Coach wouldn't take me out of the game, since I was the best chance that we had to score, so I had to make every moment count. I had to score again.

The game was tied at 1-1 until we only had ten minutes left in the game. I was tired, I was dirty from being pushed down quite a few times as the other players targeted me, and I was sore.

Somehow, I found the drive to continue, as I always did. I thought of my practicing, how everything was leading to this game, how hard I had prepared. And I thought of Holly. I had to make it good for her first game of knowing me, right?

I got the ball and had a breakaway moment. It was me against the other team's goalie.

I'd practiced this so many times that I could've closed my eyes and the ball would've still gone in perfectly.

Like it did.

The game ended with a final score of 2-1 to us, and the cheers from the crowd were enormous. I was smiling, my team was hitting me on the back and hugging me, and Coach nodded his approval. I could hear some girls calling my name from the stands, reaching their hands down to get a high-five as I passed to get to the locker rooms.

I was on a high that I could only get after participating in a winning game. Nothing else on Earth compared to this feeling. The locker room was buzzing as my teammates talked about moments in the game.

When Coach was done talking to us and everyone was calmer and starting to talk about post-game plans, I took the chance to leave.

Coach stopped me as I was about to exit.

"River... good game today."

"Thank you, Coach," I said, but I was suspicious that there was more.

I was right.

"I said good game, not great game," Coach said. "I expect more from you than two goals. You had some sloppy passes up top, so I'd like you to fix those. You have a lot to work on, but start there."

"Yes, Coach."

I finally left the building in slightly lower spirits than before.

Many students had gone already. I made my way to the student-athlete parking lot.

My heavy duffel bag slung around my shoulder, my hair wet from sweat, my shoulder aching from the falls... but I was happy. I was getting to go home, shower, relax...

The smile wiped off my face when I got to my car and saw who was standing beside it.