O

ur fifth game of the season comes three days after my whiffed pass to Eva against Cardinal Creek. I spend each day in between trying to convince myself she didn’t intentionally sabotage me.

Yes, she’s been mean to me ever since last fall.

Yes, she wants me off the team.

Yes, she said, “Whoop!” when she wasn’t actually open.

Until now, she’s never tried to sabotage me during a game. Because doing that is as bad for her as it is for me. Worse, it’s bad for the team.

So maybe, I think, she just got the code wrong. Maybe she mixed up “Whoop!” and “Hey-o!”

Right.

At least, she finally spoke to me during a game.

And she kept talking to me during the next couple practices too. Then again, Coach made her. He kept shouting things like, “I can’t hear you, Riley!” and “Speak up, Williams!” I think the only reason he isn’t going to bench us is because Fraser still managed to beat Cardinal Creek.

Whatever his reasons, I know Eva well enough to know she’ll do just about anything to stay on the field. So will I.

 . . .

In any case, the only thing worse than Eva not talking to me might be Eva talking too much.

We’re playing Ironwood today. Over the roar of their fans, I can hear Eva yelling at me again for no reason. She’s spent the whole game barking orders and reminders at me. She tells me to watch the ball and to pay attention even though I’m already doing both of those things. A couple times, as I’m about to clear the ball by booting it up the field, she shouts, “I’m not open, Addie,” as if I need to be reminded not to pass the ball to a guarded player. Another time, she simply tells me to “Pass it!” just as I’m doing exactly that. Toward the end of the game, an Ironwood player tries to lob the ball into the penalty area. I camp under the pass, ready to spring into the air with my superhero calves and head the ball safely away from our end of the field. Just as I’m about to launch, Eva says, “Get it, Addie!”

Her comments might seem harmless, but they’re super annoying. Especially the way she says them—like I need to be reminded how to play soccer. Like soccer isn’t my life and isn’t as natural to me as breathing or blinking. They’re the kind of comments neither of us would have dreamed of making during the summer.

Back then, we talked in code. Back then, we trusted each other completely.