Offside Page 3

  “Hey.” She chewed her lip, unsure how to ask about the game.

  “I’m glad you stopped by.” He pulled a notebook in front of him and opened it. “I got midterm grade reports this morning. You’re under a C average right now.”

  “I am?” She knew she wasn’t doing all of her schoolwork. But she didn’t realize she wasn’t passing.

  “You’ll be off the team if you don’t get your grades up. Academic probation.”

  “Really?”

  “This shouldn’t come as a surprise. I talk about academics at the start of every season.”

  Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise—but it still shocked her. Off the team? Faith’s legs wobbled. She could feel tears pushing behind her eyes.

  Coach Berg must have seen she was upset. He pointed to the empty chair next to his desk. “Have a seat.”

  Faith slumped onto the plastic chair.

  “Sometimes, staying eligible is just a matter of turning in missing assignments. Like you didn’t turn in your nutrition paper last week. I’ll extend your deadline to next Monday. If you get an A on that paper, it will raise your health grade to a B.”

  Faith nodded, staring at the floor.

  “Talk to your other teachers and find out what you’re missing. And study! I want you on the team and off the bench.”

  She met his eyes. “You do?”

  “Well, yeah, of course. You made a couple of mistakes yesterday, but that was mostly from lack of experience. We can work on that. You were fast and showed good instincts. I think midfield is your natural position. I notice it’s where you sit too.” He jutted his chin toward the classroom.

  Faith shook her head, confused.

  “Your desk against the wall? It’s at wide midfield.” His eyes twinkled. “That’s an unscientific observation, by the way.”

  She smiled.

  He folded his hands. “I remember you said you babysit. Who for?”

  “My sister and two brothers. My mother works nights. As a nurse.”

  “Young kids can be a handful.” He nodded thoughtfully. “So you don’t play club ball?”

  “No. We can’t afford it.”

  A student wandered in for sixth period.

  Faith stood and looped her backpack over her shoulder. “I guess I’d better go.”

  “Don’t worry, Faith,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll get a handle on it. See you at practice.”

  “Okay.”

  Faith, she said to herself in the hallway. He called me Faith.

  Maybe he did care about her as a person. She hadn’t felt that understood by anyone in a long time. Faith’s footsteps were just a little lighter as she walked to her locker.

  “R

  un closer to the touchline, Patel!”

  Coach Berg had given Faith about ten instructions in a row during scrimmage. It was hard to keep track of what she was and wasn’t supposed to do. She sprinted up the sideline and then moved into the empty space right of the goal.

  “Sheridan!” he yelled at the Copperhead’s left forward. “Pass already!”

  Lacy Sheridan kept the ball close as she scanned the field. Faith was the only offensive player open. She could tell Lacy wanted to get the ball to another striker, but they were all covered. Lacy sent up a cross to Faith. Faith ran to meet it. She had a clear view of the goal, but she hesitated.

  “Shoot, Patel!” Coach screamed. At the same moment, Nita Ortiz called out, “Faith!” The center forward was sprinting behind Nita. Faith tapped the ball toward her. Nita struck at the net, but Becca blocked it.

  Faith shook her head as she ran back down the field. She hadn’t made a goal since middle school. She had zero confidence that she could get the ball past the keeper.

  Keeping an eye on her zone, Faith moved in to help the defenders. Right behind her ear, she heard a kissing sound and “How’s it going, pet?”

  Faith shoved her elbow back into Caitlyn’s ribs.

  “Ow! Hey!”

  Before Caitlyn could retaliate, Faith’s side got the ball back, and she was running downfield on the attack. Faith was sick of the sneers she’d been getting from Caitlyn lately. But hitting her was stupid, and Faith regretted it. Fighting was a sure way to get kicked off the team. At least Coach hadn’t yelled at her—she guessed he hadn’t seen what happened.

  A few minutes later, Coach blew his whistle and scrimmage ended. “Remember,” he announced, “Coach Simmons is subbing in for me tomorrow night. Make me proud. And we’re having a Monday match next week, not a Wednesday one.”

  As players left the field for the locker room, Caitlyn threw death stares at Faith from over Caitlyn’s shoulder.

  Normally, Faith would have headed straight home. But between her skirmish with Caitlyn and stress over playing midfield, she still had energy to burn. Taking a deep breath, she started jogging. Running also gave her time to review the afternoon’s practice. She’d felt a little more comfortable on the field, but not completely comfortable. The longer she played midfield, the less she seemed to understand the position. The strategy was completely different from defense. There were all sorts of patterns to memorize. Maybe the bench was the best place for her.

  Breathing hard, her legs giving out, Faith finally stopped running. She passed Coach Berg, who was gathering ball bags.

  “You know, there’s such a thing as too much exercise,” he said.

  Faith nodded and stopped. She pressed her hands on her hips. Talking to Coach Berg about her misgivings was something she never would have done a week ago. But after their chat in fifth period, she had a feeling he’d understand.

  “I’m not sure about playing midfield.”

  He handed her a bag filled with balls. “Giving up already?”

  She hadn’t thought about it as giving up. She slowly reached out and took the bag.

  He shrugged. “Okay. I’ll keep you on defense.” He headed toward the equipment shed.

  Confused, Faith stood there a moment.

  He looked over his shoulder. “That is what you want, right?”

  She started following him. “I don’t know.”

  They’d reached the shed. He unlocked the door and opened it. “Look,” he said, stepping inside. “It sounds like you’ve got a lot of responsibilities at home.”

  Faith followed him in.

  He threw the bags he was carrying into the corner and faced her. “Soccer shouldn’t add to your stress. If you’re going to worry about anything, it should be schoolwork. Academics always trump athletics.”

  She didn’t know what trump meant, but she understood what he was saying. “Do you think I should stop playing midfield?”

  “Based on your overall performance, no. I’ve already told you, I think you have potential. But it will take time and hard work to get good at it.”

  Faith took a deep breath, relieved he still thought she had potential. “What kinds of things should I work on?”

  “Well, first remember that you won’t be playing at all if you don’t get your grades up. Striking practice would help. If an opportunity to score is right in front of you, take it. Your dribbling could be a little better—you’re not used to going long distances with the ball. Practicing one-on-ones would help.” He reached out for the bag of balls she was still holding. “Is that enough?” He smiled.

  She smiled in return, meeting his eyes. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Their fingers touched as she handed the bag to him. He turned and threw the bag on top of the others. She couldn’t get over how nice he was being. He was concerned about her grades and her home life. He was giving her all kinds of advice. He didn’t need to be so kind. So why was he?

  One possible answer sent heat into Faith’s face. She scolded herself: What’s wrong with you? She was glad her skin was dark so Coach Berg wouldn’t see her red cheeks.

  “Okay,” he said, brushing his hands together. “Let’s get out of here. Time to go home.”

  As they stepped outside into the setting sun, Faith sa
w a flash of movement. A few yards away, someone was trotting away under the bleachers—a tall girl with light brown hair. A girl who looked a lot like Caitlyn.

  A

  fter dinner, Faith sat in front of her laptop at her desk. Feeling like she’d studied enough for her health quiz, she decided to focus on her nutrition paper. She had to compare five unhealthy snacks with five healthy alternatives. She’d already come up with the foods. Now she had to explain the differences. She’d just typed, “Potato chips are high in oil, calories, and salt,” when Vijay walked in and tugged on her sleeve.

  “Antim is sick.”

  “I know he’s sick,” Faith said. “He has a cold.” Antim had stayed home from kindergarten with Mom that day, which meant Mom had gotten even less sleep than usual. She’d gone to bed the second Faith walked through the door.

  “Come and see.” He tugged on her sleeve again.

  Faith sighed before clicking Save and following Vijay to his room. All Antim’s covers were thrown off. He squirmed on the bed and mumbled. She felt his forehead. It was way too hot.

  “Oh, Antim.” She hated to wake her mom, but she had to.

  He had a temperature of 103. Faith helped her mom give him Tylenol, popsicles, and a lukewarm bath.

  Soon the brother’s dino clock reached nine thirty and Mom prepared to leave for work. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?” she asked.

  “I’ve done this before, remember?” Faith said, more grumpily than she should have.

  “Well. Call me if his fever rises. And make sure he drinks plenty of water.”

  “Okay. Bye, Mom.” Faith closed the door behind her.

  These were the times Faith hated most. She loved her brothers and sister, but not the responsibility of caring for them. As she walked back to Antim’s room, she imagined leaving home again and only being responsible for herself. Coach Berg had seemed to get it when he’d said kids were a handful. Had he also taken care of younger siblings? Was he the oldest in his family?

  Between checking on Antim and keeping Vijay from worrying too much, Faith didn’t get much done on her report. At this rate, she’d never improve her grades.

  By eleven thirty, Antim was sleeping quietly and his fever hadn’t risen any higher. She’d check on him again in a few hours. In the meantime, she decided it was safe to go to bed.

  But instead of sleeping, Faith lay on her back, completely awake. She’d started thinking about Coach Berg again and why he was being so nice to her. About what she’d wondered in the equipment shed: could he … like her? Not as her coach, but in a different way. A romantic way.

  Faith’s cheeks heated up again and she rolled onto her side, digging her fingernails into her palms. The idea was so embarrassing. It was stupid. He was her teacher. He was twenty years older. He was probably even married. Faith couldn’t remember—did he wear a ring?

  But he’d been smiling and looking at her with such warmth and kindness. She’d never seen him look at other players that way. And he’d defended her against Caitlyn. He did treat her differently. He talked to her like he understood her, like she was more than just a student or a soccer player. And he was going out of his way to train her for a new position.

  Turning onto her back again, Faith listened to Hamsa’s faint snoring across the room. Was it possible?

  No. Of course not. She tried to push the thought out of her head.

  But as Faith neared sleep, she recalled the faint scent of his cologne in the equipment shed earlier and the touch of his fingers when he took the ball bag. She sighed happily in spite of herself.

  . . .

  “Astha. Wake up.”

  Faith awoke to her mom’s gentle shaking. She bolted upright. “What? Is it Antim?”

  “No. He’s better. You slept through your alarm. I thought you might need the sleep.” Her mom stroked Faith’s cheek and left.

  Sun streamed through Faith’s window. She looked at her clock. School started in half an hour. So much for practicing soccer before class or trying to finish homework. She rushed through her shower and breakfast and ran out the door.

  Faith barely had time to open her locker before English class started. As she grabbed her textbook, a folded piece of paper fell onto the floor. She picked it up and carried it to class.

  Faith landed in her seat just as the bell rang. Mrs. Delsanto began lecturing about the Shakespearean sonnets they were supposed to have read last night. Faith lowered her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t get called on to answer a question. The piece of paper was still in her hand. She unfolded it.

  The classroom seemed to shrink as she focused on the page. It was a printed-out photo of her and Coach Berg in the equipment shed. It was the moment she’d handed him the mesh bag of balls. They were staring at each other, smiling, their fingers touching. Their faces were so close together, it looked like they were about to kiss.

  Faith heard a snicker and quickly folded the page, shoving it into her notebook.

  “Is that you?” Jeremy Nyquist whispered over her shoulder. “Who are you with?”

  “No one!” she hissed, grateful he hadn’t recognized Coach Berg. She wanted to cry. No, she wanted to die. Caitlyn must have taken the photo. That’s why Faith had seen her running under the bleachers the day before.

  Faith’s heart sank. Who else knew about this?

  Moving slowly so she didn’t attract Mrs. Delsanto’s attention, she pulled her backpack onto her lap. She turned on her phone inside the backpack, hoping to muffle the sound. There was a message waiting, from caitlove:

  Hey, pet! Enjoying your special treatment? <3 <3 <3

  “Faith!” Mrs. Delsanto glared at her. “No phones in class!”

  Faith turned it off and dropped her backpack on the floor. Had Olivia seen the picture too? Addie?

  The entire team?

  A

  s she sat through English, all Faith could think about was confronting Caitlyn. But they didn’t have any classes together. The only time Faith might get her alone would be before or after the game that night. But first, Faith had to get through the rest of this horrible day.

  As she walked out of English class, it crossed her mind to skip school altogether. But her mom was home. Faith could fake being sick, but that was hard to pull off with a nurse for a mom.

  Faith slunk late into every class, right after the bell rang. Keeping her head down, she listened for the snickers and taunts that would tell her if the photo had gone viral at school. To her relief, no one treated her any differently. In other words, they didn’t notice her at all.

  At lunch, Faith sat at her favorite spot under some trees on the far side of campus. Pulling her backpack onto her lap, she pulled out a PowerBar from the stash she always kept. She also took out the photo. She’d considered tearing it up at least fifty times since her English class. It would be a disaster if it got into anyone else’s hands. Both she and Coach Berg would be in huge trouble if school administrators thought something was really going on. He might even lose his job.

  She unfolded the sheet of paper.

  The image gave her a humiliated, sick feeling. But it also sent a tingle straight to her toes. While she’d been trying to convince herself that Coach Berg’s behavior was just teacherly interest, Caitlyn’s photo told a different story. Coach looked down at her tenderly, his eyes sparkling. She could still feel their fingers touching. Maybe he’d chosen to touch her. Just as he’d chosen to hand her the bag in the first place.

  Faith shook her head. She didn’t know what to believe. As she gently folded the page and returned it to her backpack, she wondered again if Coach had seen it. If he had, what did he think? How would he react when he saw her in class today? Faith’s emotions ranged from disgust to jittery anticipation. Since fifth period was right after lunch, she didn’t have long to wait.

  In the restroom, Faith brushed her hair and applied colored lip gloss, something she didn’t normally do. She shook her head as she stared at her reflection. What was she doing? Trying to i
mpress him? She wiped her mouth clean again and strode into health class just as the bell rang.

  Coach Berg’s eyes briefly met Faith’s when he took attendance, but that was it. She took a deep breath. If he’d seen the photo, he would have given her a more meaningful look, she was sure of it. And, as in her morning classes, she didn’t notice students peering at her or whispering behind her back.

  Clearly, Caitlyn hadn’t shared the photo with anyone else. Again, Faith wondered what Caitlyn was up to. Was there something she wanted? Would she use the photo as blackmail? Was she waiting for some perfect moment to ruin Faith’s life?

  Worrying about Caitlyn soon gave way to thinking about Coach Berg. Faith couldn’t help it. Striding back and forth in front of the class, he was so tall and confident. He was the handsome tiger she’d pictured the other day. Try as she might, Faith couldn’t look away. She blushed and sighed. She’d never noticed how attractive he was.

  As class drew to a close, Faith knew her thoughts were raging out of control. She knew it was wrong, but she started imagining being with him—with Alan. His first name was Alan, wasn’t it? She silently laughed at the idea of calling him anything but Coach Berg.

  Alan Berg. She wrote his name in her notebook. Then she wrote it again and again.

  Alan Berg

  Alan Berg

  Alan Berg

  The bell rang. Faith quickly closed her notebook so no one would see what she’d written. She drew in a breath, suddenly aware how crazy it would look.

  What was wrong with her? How could she think about Coach Berg this way? She was crazy!

  Faith pressed her forehead against her hands and closed her eyes. Her noisy, chattering classmates spiraled around her, sending her stomach twirling. She thought she might cry or throw up. Or both.

  “Patel?”

  She raised her eyes.

  Coach Berg sat at his desk. Everyone else had left.

  “You look a little green around the gills,” he said. “You okay?”

  She lowered her hands and nodded.

  “Good. Can we expect you at tonight’s match? I want Coach Simmons to have a full crew.”