The Transference

C30

I've been sitting for almost thirty minutes, doing nothing other than warming the bench while the other girls jog around the open field. I know the headmaster said the paper gave us and chose us houses based on our talents, so each House is complete but with the Red House girls, I see a complete squad of eleven players not including the other five substitute. The students participating in the game will be cheering, which brings me to the question I've asking the supervisor, who is somehow the coach. I mean, she said the girl game is just for fun but I don't think they'll be making all this effort just for fun.

"Why am I here?" I direct the question at Miranda, who is standing not very far from the bench, watching the girls jog around the field. She's looks dressed for the job in her white and black Adidas tracksuits. What I find funny is the yellow whistle hanging around her neck. If I haven't seen her coaching the cheer team, I would be convinced she's the girl's coach.

"To train like I told you in the last seven times you've asked," she replies without looking at me.

Yeah, she really has been telling me.

I get up and go to stand in front of her, and that's when I notice the sunshade hanging on her nose as she shield her eyes from the sun.

Taking a deep breath before voicing out one of my many complains. "To train you said, but all I've been doing is sitting around doing nothing. I have other things I'm supposed to be doing right now but since you forced me here, I can't do them. I'm the only one sitting, everyone else is on the field." Pointing my hand to the field to improve my argument.

Miranda sighs and removes her hand from her trousers to lift the sunshade off her eyes, and pushes it backwards into her hair. I see the look on her face and it's not the one a coach is supposed to have at eight in the morning on Saturday when she hasn't done anything. It's exhaustion but I have a feeling it has more to do with me than the others.

"Make up your mind, Cami. You told me you can't play and I asked you to be here to support your teammates, and now you're telling you're tired of seating? What exactly do you want me to do? And don't say go back to your room because you know I can't let you do that."

I groan and place my hands on my hips.

It was worth a try.

"Okay. Fine! You're right and I've made up my mind. The girl's game don't mean anything, so I'll play"–shrugging–"I kick some ball around. How hard can it be?"

She sighs and her eyes closes briefly like she doesn't know what to do with me anymore. "You realize soccer is more than just kicking ball around?"

I shrug. "Can't be that hard. I've watched some matches and I have a favorites players," I tell her and bring my hand out to begin my list, "David Beckham, Mohammed Salah, Diego Maradona, Erling Haland, Angel Di–"

She holds her hands out to stop me. "You know names of some great footballers, I get it but Cami–"

"Thank you. I know you won't let me down," I tell her with a smile.

She frowns and shakes her head. "That's supposed to be my line and even if I'm going to say it, I won't put it like that. It will be along the line of don't make me regret it."

My mouth drop open as I give a fake hurt expression. "Where is the trust?"

She shakes her head and chuckles. "Go gear up," she says and brings the whistle to her mouth and blow.

The girls stop jogging and scatter around the field, some dropping on the ground, others barely holding themselves up as they try to catch their breath. I should be thankful she didn't ask me to join them because I don't think I can survive the run. How laps did they do? I mean, some of this girls are cheerleaders and now they are soccer players. Talk of a fucking plot twist.