Page 10 of End Game

After toeing off my shoes—my grandmother would be horrified I’m wearing them inside at all, but roommates are what they are—I gingerly take a seat on the mattress beside her. She grabs the TV remote and crawls onto the bed. She waits for me to get settled before she curls up directly next to me, her head on my chest. I slip my arm around her, and I’m gratified when she sighs and snuggles closer, turning on her favorite movie we’ve seen a million times.

We’ve been friends for fourteen years. I’m not about to throw away the best thing that’s ever happened to me over a fling.

Because that’s all it would be. Diana dates, but she doesn’t go for relationships. She has enough on her plate between her double major and soccer. And now adding in this thing with her dad... I could never do that to her.

I pull her closer, until we’re a heartbeat away from each other, and as I open my mouth to say something, anything, she nuzzles into me and sighs, fast asleep. I kiss her forehead again, and then I close my eyes, too. If I can't have her in real life, maybe I can have her in my dreams.

Chapter 3

Diana

I wake up to the sun streaming in my window. Squinting against the glare, it takes me a minute to remember I’m in my new room at Newton. I’m not in my dorm room at USC. I’m not in my childhood bedroom. I’m getting a fresh start, a clean slate.

The house is quiet. Nobody else is up this early. For a minute, I debate rolling over and going back to sleep. No, it’s no use. I’m wide awake.

My phone has a message from Barrett. I didn’t hear him sneak out of bed, but I remember waking up at two o’clock in the morning to pee with him fast asleep beside me. It was so natural to come back from the bathroom to find him in my bed. I didn’t think twice about crawling in beside him.

He’s going for an early weightlifting session at eight—do I want to meet him for breakfast after?

I have practice at ten. The timing doesn’t quite work. I roll out of bed and get dressed in plain black shorts and a nondescript black t-shirt I can wear to practice. I don’t have any Newton gear yet.

The walk to the ASC is peaceful. I listen to music and chill, trying to get into the zone. I’m used to being on my own. I liked my teammates at USC, we got along great, but I doubt we’ll keep in touch except on social media. I haven’t heard from anyone all summer. It’s like they said goodbye at the end of the season and that was that.

Badging into the dining hall, I grab a tray and start to load my plate with coffee, oatmeal, fruit, and a poached egg. I pick a small table hidden away in the corner and tuck in. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m not here to make friends. All I want is to drink my coffee, eat my food, and slowly get ready for the day.

Nobody comes up to me. Nobody tries to talk to me. Everyone leaves me alone, which is exactly what I want, and at the same time, it feels incredibly isolating. I don’t know anyone here. I don’t know the social rules.

Finally, at nine-thirty, it’s time to head back to the house. There are three houses for the soccer team, and I was assigned to one at random. I don’t know what I’m in for. I’ve played on nearly a dozen teams over the last sixteen years. I’ve been the new girl before. There might be hazing. They might freeze me out. They might be nice to my face and talk shit about me behind my back. Or they might be perfectly lovely women. I’m far too cynical for that, though.

The group has added me to the team’s social media groups, so I’ve become “friends” with these women I’ve never met. There’s a group chat for the house, too, but I haven’t seen any messages in that thread in the past two days despite everyone moving in this weekend.

The girls are waiting in the living room when I get back. I’m not sure who is who. Johanna Chen is the team captain, and she’s the other Chinese-American girl, so she’s easy enough to figure out. The other four women are Rosie, Robin, Rachel, and Rebekah—all four are tanned from a summer spent practicing in the sun, with long hair pulled back into braids. Two are blonde, two are brunette. Aside from that, they’re interchangeable. They’re all wearing grey t-shirts with the Newton logo and navy blue soccer shorts.

“You’re late,” Johanna says when I close the door behind me.

It’s nine fifty. I could argue with her. It won’t make us friends. After a brief detour to grab my gear bag from my room, I zip my lips and follow the girls out of the house.

Coach Aimee Larsen is a no-nonsense woman with her hair pulled back in a severe braid. Frown lines crease her face. She’s skating on thin ice and we all know it. The team has had a losing record the last three seasons and, unless magic happens, her job is on the line.

We only have two weeks until our first game. Most programs would be practicing all summer. Maybe the girls practiced without me, I don’t know. My transfer was effective for the fall semester—I took a class over summer session back at USC, so even if I had wanted to, I wouldn’t have been allowed to come out here early. I have two weeks to learn all the plays, to learn the team and their playing style.

I’m grateful to Coach Larsen for agreeing to let me transfer. She recruited me hard when I was in high school. Newton was always my backup, my safety school. I never thought I’d have to end up here. She didn’t have to agree to let me transfer. She did anyway.

There are four new freshmen and one sophomore transfer, Lauren. Coach Larsen has us stand in a circle and introduce ourselves. I don’t know that I’d be able to pick out which one is which without name tags. There are so many people on the team, plus all the coaching staff and various team admins I have to remember. Everyone starts to blur together in their matching Newton apparel. The new girls and I are the only ones not wearing head to toe Newton gear.

We start with a few dynamic stretches to warm up before they set us to running laps. Three times around the field isn’t pretty for anyone. We split up by position. The eight defenders cluster around the defensive coordinator as he sets us on passing drills.

Emma and Ashton introduce themselves as the two full backs. Kristin, Jackie, and Louisa are center backs. Mischa, Terri, and Zoe are the wing backs. They’re marginally warmer than Johanna was. I don’t feel an overwhelming bond of sisterhood. Maybe it’s too much to expect for day one. Maybe it will never develop. I only have one year left. I can get through this.

After practice, the team hits the showers. By unspoken agreement, we head towards the ASC. Or rather, they do, and I follow them. I stick close to Emma, who gives me a small smile before returning to her conversation with her fellow sophomores. Johanna is chatting with Rachel and Rebecca. Robin is nodding in agreement.

There are more than thirty of us. We badge into the dining hall and grab trays. Following the other girls’ lead, I put food on a plate and scan it into the nutrition app. We push three tables together. I’m in the middle of the table with Jackie and Lauren, the other transfer student. It’s painfully awkward. I don’t know what to say, so I concentrate on stuffing my face.

A shadow falls over us. The girls fall silent. I look up to see Greg standing behind me, Wes and Amir flanking him.

“Hey, Dee,” Greg says. He shifts his tray and leans down, pressing his lips to my cheek again. “How was your first practice?”

“Good. Did you guys get a good lift in?”