Blow Out (7 page)

Lacy took a deep breath. She understood how important the question was. She'd been struggling with it since the semester began. She also understood that she didn't have a clue how to answer it herself. But that wasn't Peyton's fault. She smiled at him. “It's something I need to think about it. Thanks.”

“You're welcome. You're an excellent coach, by the way, Miss Sheridan. Thank
you
.” Peyton bowed.

Lacy laughed. “You're welcome, sir.”

“I'd better get home.”

As they walked together through the marble hallway to the front door, Peyton said, “You're really passionate about soccer, aren't you?”

“Yes. Completely.”

“Have you thought about coaching?”

Lacy snorted. “No way.”

“Why not? You're patient. You know the game. You work hard. You're good at explaining. You're competitive. Those seem like pretty good coaching qualities to me.”

Lacy shrugged. She really had never thought about it. “Somehow I can't imagine myself coaching a bunch of eight-year-olds.”

“It doesn't have to be little kids. Why not high school? Or college?”

“I don't know. It's just…”

They'd reached the door, and he stared at her, smiling.

“What?” Lacy asked. “Do I have dirt on my face or something?” She wiped her cheek.

He chuckled. “No.” He paused before adding, “Look, I know we're supposedly even, but I really feel like I owe you. Can I still take you to dinner sometime?”

“No, that's all right. You don't owe me anything.” She opened the door.

“Well. Okay. Thanks again.”

As he strode to his car, Lacy watched Peyton's back, his broad shoulders, his mussed hair. “Peyton,” she called.

He turned.

But she quickly changed her mind. The last thing Lacy needed was a relationship complicating her life.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just … remember to wear your seat belt.”

T

he morning sun streamed through Lacy's tall bedroom windows as she woke up the following Saturday. She wished she could go back to sleep. After four more days of practice, she hadn't gotten her head on as straight as Coach wanted. Nor was she any closer to answering Peyton's “fearless” question. Was she willing to reinjure her knee for the sake of playing soccer? She'd thought about it every time Raven ran toward her in drills.

Groaning sleepily, Lacy rolled from her back onto her side. Her eyes opened. A dress she hadn't seen before was draped over her easy chair. Her mother must have sneaked it in the night before, while Lacy was asleep. A matching hat rested on the seat cushion, and a pair of shoes lay on the floor.

“Oh, no,” Lacy muttered. “The luncheon.” She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to make a decision, right then, that morning—the Belle League or soccer. From what little she knew about the Belle League, it included the social elite of Fraser. They were dedicated to community service, gossip, and marrying off their youngest members to the most eligible Fraser bachelors.

Then there was soccer. Whether on a traveling club or high school team, it meant cutthroat competition. It also meant incredible stress. And, of course, the possibility of painful injury, surgery, and months of rehabilitation. Maybe again and again. Lacy cringed.

She threw her covers back. Any more sleep would have been impossible. On the way to the bathroom, she walked by her easy chair. She couldn't help but stop and admire the dress. As her mother had promised, it was fabulous—in a sophisticated way. A sheath of ivory linen with black trim. Sleeveless—no princess puffs. She could tell it would hug her soccer-fit body perfectly. She imagined going to dinner with Peyton in this dress.

Without the hat, of course.

She picked up the hat and turned it around in her hands. All dress hats seemed over-the-top to Lacy, but this one was as understated as the dress—simple linen, with its outer edge trimmed in black. The ivory shoes on the floor had thin ankle straps and short heels. Lacy was surprised her mother knew her this well. The entire outfit was feminine, but not overly so.

“Way to go, Mom,” she muttered.

Lacy had hoped to make her decision while she showered. But walking back to her bedroom, she was no closer to choosing. She stopped again at the easy chair and ran her hand over the dress's fabric. She read the label. A top designer. Lacy was accustomed to the best, the most expensive things. In many ways, this
was
her world. Would she really be comfortable with anything less? Why was she so focused on sports? What had soccer ever gotten her? Pain and anxiety, that's what.

Without thinking further, Lacy lifted the dress off the chair. She pulled down the zipper, stepped in, and wriggled into its snug form. After zipping herself up, she slipped her feet into the shoes. Finally, she set the hat onto her freshly dried hair. She stood before her full-length mirror.

There was a knock at her door. Her mother came in and stood next to Lacy. Without a word, she adjusted Lacy's hat. She rested her hands on Lacy's shoulders and stared at their reflection. They stood that way for several seconds, her mother neither smiling nor frowning.

Lacy wasn't sure what her mother saw in the mirror. But Lacy knew what
she
saw. The girl in the mirror wasn't her. She reached back and patted her mother's hand.

“Thank you for the beautiful dress. But I'm not going to the luncheon.”

Her mother sighed and rubbed Lacy's arms. She turned and left the room.

C

oach Berg started Raven instead of Lacy in the conference match. Lacy
understood. She didn't even mind, really. Raven had been the braver player those last few weeks. She deserved to be left forward. And it didn't matter anyway. Whether on the sidelines or playing, a Copperheads game was where Lacy wanted to be.

When she'd looked at herself in the mirror this morning, Lacy had seen a girl in a beautiful dress—a girl she didn't know. Had her mother also seen that stranger? Lacy hoped so, but she doubted it.

“Pass!” Coach Berg yelled from the sidelines. It was close to the end of the first half, and the Copperheads were struggling. They were playing the Saint Joseph Badgers, one of the top teams in the conference. The score was 2–1, Badgers.

The whistle blew, and the referee indicated a foul. A Badger defender was slowly getting to her feet after Raven slid into her, trying to win the ball back. Raven drew a yellow card.

“Come on, McAlister!” Coach Berg grumbled.

Raven raised her hands in the air, acting oblivious.

In the stands, someone yelled hysterically, “Are you blind, ref? That was not a foul!”

Lacy looked over her shoulder from the bench. It was the man who'd scolded Raven at the scrimmage.

Like father, like daughter?
Lacy felt a moment of sympathy for Raven, but an angry dad in the stands didn't justify Raven's behavior.

The Badgers were awarded a free kick. Luckily, Alyssa caught the ball and kept their opponents from grabbing another goal. Five minutes later, the half ended with no change in the score. The Copperheads trotted to the sideline, breathing hard and grabbing water bottles.

Nita stood next to Lacy, shaking her head in disgust. “Not good,” Nita whispered. “They're tough. And we're not playing as a team.” Nita squeezed water from the bottle onto her head.

Coach Berg rubbed a hand across his buzzed head, which he did any time he got anxious. His cheeks glowed as everyone gathered around. “Defenders, you need to stick to those attackers like glue. You're giving them way too many views of the net. Work them to the side.” Coach Berg searched among the players. “Wong and Heisel. You need to shrink that gap between the two of you. And pass! If you're open, yell it out!” Coach looked at Raven. “McAlister, you're on the sideline. Sheridan, you're in at left forward.”

“What?” Raven shouted. All of her smarmy niceness was gone. The sidelines quieted as every Copperhead listened.

He replied evenly, “You're on your way to a red card, and we can't afford more kicks against us.”

“It's not my fault! I can't help it if that referee is an idiot!”

Coach Berg stepped up to Raven until he was right in her face. “Do you remember our first practice? I said behavior matters.”

Raven crossed her arms.

“Well, you'd better drill it into your brain.” He faced the team again. Lacy stepped away from the bench and got to work warming up. She tried to keep one ear on Coach Berg so she could hear the rest of his halftime notes.

Behind her, Lacy heard, “You're going to quit.”

Lacy twisted around. Raven sat on the ground behind her. Her eyes were narrowed to snakelike slits. The look sent goose bumps across Lacy's arms.

“What?” Lacy asked.

“You're going to tell Coach Berg you're giving up your spot on the roster. You're quitting the team today.”

“No, I'm not.”

She felt a sharp tug at her ponytail.

“Ow!” Lacy swatted Raven's hand away. “What is your problem?”

“I wish I'd tripped you harder the first day of the semester.”

“Raven … you need help.”

“Do you really want to look over your shoulder for the rest of the semester?” Raven hissed. “During every practice? Every time you walk down the hallway?”

Lacy didn't know what to do. Should she yell for Coach Berg? If she did, Raven would deny everything. Worse, Raven would twist it around and say that Lacy was accusing her.

Lacy was sick of worrying. Maybe choosing soccer was a mistake after all.

Then Lacy remembered looking at a stranger in the mirror that morning. She wasn't a mannequin in a Belle League dress. She wasn't even the little kid Carrie needed to protect. And she definitely wasn't a quitter.
This
was who she was: the Copperheads' left forward, about to enter the second half of a soccer match.

Lacy scrambled to her feet. So did Raven.

“No,” Lacy told her. “I am not quitting the team. If I have to watch for you the rest of the semester, I will.”

Raven opened her mouth to say something, but Lacy held up her hand. “You're a damaged person, Raven. Eventually, you're going to screw up and get caught. I suggest you stop before you make things even worse for yourself.”

Raven glanced past Lacy into the stands. Her face screwed up like she might cry. Then she growled, “I hope you mess your leg up so bad you never play again.” She shoved Lacy's shoulder before striding away.

Nita trotted over. “What was
that
about?”

Lacy had managed to be confident for a second, but suddenly her hands were trembling. “Nothing.
Everything
.”

She glanced at the clock. There were only five minutes left before the start of the second half.

“I really have to warm up,” Lacy said. “The last thing I need is for Raven's wish to come true.”

A

s Lacy trotted onto the field, she tried to shake Raven's last words:
mess up your leg… never play again
. They sounded like a curse.