Offside (7 page)

She felt frustrated, angry, and—when she could admit it—guilty. Her mom assured Faith it wasn't her fault Antim had a seizure. But what if it was? What if she'd paid more attention to him, made sure he drank enough water when she was babysitting? Faith wasn't cut out for nannying. She was desperate to leave home. She
had
to graduate and get a job, any kind of job, so she could be on her own.

 . . .

On Saturday, Faith finished her nutrition paper and made up a couple chem assignments too. Sunday night, she sat on her bed reading English homework. She leaned her head against the wall, thinking about apartments. They cost money—especially studios or one bedrooms. More than she'd ever make working at an entry-level job.

She shook her head and looked back at her textbook.
Focus
. While she didn't understand half of what Shakespeare wrote, some of his sonnets did strike her as pretty romantic.

Closing her eyes, Faith thought about Coach Berg … Alan. He was a bright spot in her life. The only person who treated her kindly, who seemed to appreciate what she was going through. She wondered what he was doing at that moment. Was it possible he was thinking of her?

Faith jumped up and rummaged through her backpack. She found the printout of Caitlyn's photo and returned with it to her bed. Carefully unfolding it, she studied the image: his fingers touching hers, his tender gaze, his warm smile.

He did like her. She was sure of it.

And she liked him. She had to stop fighting her feelings. So what if he was older, or her teacher?

It suddenly occurred to Faith that Caitlyn had done her a favor by taking the picture. And Faith didn't care who she sent it to. The image simply proved what Faith already knew—that she and Coach Alan Berg were in love.

 . . .

Stuffing her backpack with a change of clothes, Faith left the house Monday morning at six thirty. Alan had told her she needed to work on dribbling and striking to play midfield. She'd decided to practice until she dropped.

When she got to the nice neighborhood on her way to Fraser High, Faith slowed and stopped in front of one of her favorite houses. The white cottage had a picket fence surrounding a neatly mown lawn and yellow rosebushes. Early morning sun glinted off the two front windows framed with blue shutters. Faith wasn't sure why the old-fashioned house appealed to her. It just looked … cozy. She imagined cooking Alan breakfast before he headed off to work every morning. Maybe he'd pay her tuition to go to college.

Once at the track, Faith glanced at the equipment shed. Alan wasn't there. With so much to discuss, they needed time alone. Her cheeks warmed as it dawned on her that she and Alan hadn't yet kissed. Maybe it was time they did.

A

fter her morning practice, Faith showered and dressed in the jeans and shirt she'd brought with her. During lunch, she camped out in the restroom. Her mom had given her a makeup kit two Christmases ago. She'd hardly ever used it. But she'd thrown it in her backpack that morning, along with her best clothes.

Leaning over the restroom sink, she gingerly applied some mascara. She used lipstick instead of gloss. After brushing her hair, she tipped the perfume bottle she'd “borrowed” from her mom onto her wrists and neck. Stepping back, Faith hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. She nodded. It was exactly the effect she was going for.

Alan was standing outside the health classroom when Faith arrived, talking to Mr. Cho, one of the social studies teachers. Not wanting to awkwardly wait around, she headed inside to her desk and sat there, heart pounding. Grabbing her textbook and notebook out of her backpack, she listened as Alan and Mr. Cho laughed. The conversation moved briskly but quietly, as the men went back and forth in low voices, and Faith couldn't hear what they said. Finally, Mr. Cho slapped Alan on the back and left. Faith quickly removed the nutrition paper from her notebook. Taking a deep breath, she rose from her desk.

A student rushed into the classroom. “Hey, Coach! There's a fight down the hall!”

“Oh, great,” Alan grumbled. He rushed down the hallway.

Faith slumped back into her seat, tapping her fingers on her desk. Then she straightened up again.

“Alan,” she whispered, rehearsing the speech she'd been thinking about all morning. She reached out and touched her notebook as if she were touching his hand. “I know how you feel about me. I feel the same way. I'm ready to—”

Jacob Lane walked in, and Faith stopped talking. As he sat at his desk the next row over, he turned around and did a double take.

“Wow. I didn't recognize you. You look … nice.”

She lowered her eyes and smiled.

“Kind of heavy on the perfume, though. Sheesh.” He waved his hand in front of his nose.

Faith bit her lower lip and remembered her lipstick. She wiped her teeth with her finger.

Class started late. Alan seemed distracted as he took attendance. He didn't even look at her when he called her name. Splitting up the fight must have troubled him. He was a sensitive guy.

When the period ended, Faith stayed at her desk, waiting for the classroom to empty. But the same moment that Faith got to her feet, Sheila Baker stormed back into the classroom waving her quiz in front of his face.

“Why did I only get half credit on my essay answer?” Sheila raged.

Faith sat down again and wiped her damp palms on her thighs. After Alan explained why Sheila's lame essay was hardly worth half credit, the girl left.

They were alone.

Faith jumped up. Her nutrition assignment clutched in her fist, her heart beating in her chest, she trotted to Alan's desk.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly.

“Hey, Patel,” he said, standing and shuffling papers. “Coach Simmons said you made a nice defensive play Friday. Finish your assignment?”

She handed him the report, her hand trembling. “I … I know how you—”

“Yeah, I wanted it today. Great.” He set the assignment on a pile of other papers. “See you at tonight's game. Four thirty.” He crossed the front of the classroom, heading for the door.

“…Yeah,” she answered, then wandered back to her desk and picked up her backpack. She rolled her shoulders. This wasn't the end of the world. There would be other opportunities to talk. A classroom wasn't very romantic, anyway.

“Hey.” Alan was leaning through the doorway, his hand on the doorframe.

He'd come back!

“Um … I'm not sure, but I may have a favor to ask you after tonight's game.” He grinned sheepishly. “I just want you to know it's okay if you say no.”

“I … I won't say no.”

“Well, no need to answer yet.” He slapped the doorframe. “Okay. Later.”

F

aith ran home after school, her feet barely touching the sidewalk. She flew through the apartment door and hugged her mom. “I love you.”

Her mom patted Faith's arm. “I love you too.” She pushed Faith away and held her by the shoulders. “Are you on drugs?”

“No! I'm just happy.”

Her mom slowly smiled. “That's nice. I'm going to my room.”

“Mom,” Faith called. “Do you mind if I do stuff on Saturday sometimes when you're off work? Like, go out with friends?”

“Of course not. I wish you would.”

“Thanks. Have a good nap.” Alan was the
friend
Faith planned to do stuff with. But that afternoon wasn't the time to tell Mom about him.

Antim wandered into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Faith's legs.

“Hey, Ant Man!” She lifted him up and squeezed him in a bear hug.

“Ow,” he whined. “Too tight.”

 . . .

Faith got to the field as early as she could. She'd been daydreaming about Alan's favor. Did he want to know if she'd go to dinner with him? Maybe take a trip somewhere? Each scenario she thought of included kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

Players were already gathering on the field, but she didn't see Alan. The door of the equipment shed was open. She trotted over and peeked inside. He was stepping in between deflated balls and cans of sideline paint, pulling at the goal net.

Her heart flipping, Faith stood behind him. “Hi.”

Alan jumped and turned. “Jeez, Patel. You scared me.” He took a breath. “I'm glad you're here.”

Faith tilted her chin up, signaling it was all right if he kissed her now.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She lowered her chin. “Yes.”

“So, that favor? I was hoping I could find
someone
, but no one's available, so I'm afraid it's a worst-case scenario.”

“What?”

“I don't have anyone to watch my boys after the game tonight. And I have to get to the hospital.”

Boys? Hospital? Faith gaped at him.

“Sorry. I'm a little frazzled. Here, take a look.” Alan pulled out his cell phone and pressed a couple of buttons. He held the screen under Faith's nose. In the photo, a dazed but happy-looking woman in a hospital gown held a red-faced infant. “That's little Angelica, just born Friday. And my wife, Jennifer. They're coming home tomorrow.”

Then he clicked to a photo of two boys aping for the camera. Faith guessed they were about eight and six. “The older one is David, and the little guy is Jeff,” Alan said. “They're great kids, but they think hospital hallways are ice rinks.”

Faith looked up. Alan was beaming. Finally, she understood. “You want me to babysit?”

He slid the phone into his pocket. “Just for a couple of hours. With pay, of course. I thought of you because you said you had siblings you take care of. And I know you're responsible. But remember, you can say no.”

She hesitated. “I… I can't. I have to babysit my brothers and sister. My mom works nights.”

Alan hit his forehead. “Oh, that's right! You told me, and I completely forgot.” His sheepish grin was back. “I told you, I'm frazzled.”

Faith shrugged.

“That's okay, don't worry about it,” he said. “I'll go to plan B.”

Faith lowered her head and turned to leave.

“Hey, Patel,” he said.

Faith stopped without turning.

“If there's an opportunity to use you at midfield tonight, I will.”

She nodded but didn't look back.

F

aith lumbered to the Copperheads sideline. She should have stretched, jogged, or juggled a soccer ball,
something
to get ready for the match. But why bother? Alan. Coach Berg. Her soccer coach and health teacher—that was all he was.

And he had
three kids
.

She sat on the bench and buried her head in her hands. She started to cry, too devastated to feel ashamed about doing it in public.

The bench bounced as someone sat next to her. “You okay?”

Faith recognized Caitlyn's voice. Without looking up, Faith shook her head. “I just heard Coach has a new baby. Crap.” She sat up and wiped her nose with the hem of her jersey. The field was a blur. “He wanted me to watch his sons after the match.”