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(irl + social media)
The air was thick with anticipation. My cleats dug into the turf and a storm of emotions raged inside me. This was it, the first college lacrosse game of the season, and my heart was pounding a rhythm that matched the drumming of the spectators' feet on the metal bleachers.
My family flew to Iowa to watch and I could hear their distant cheers, especially the ones of my younger sister.
Kate and some of the team was here to watch as well. Kate was going to meet my family after the game.
As the game started, I felt a surge of energy. My legs propelled me forward, dodging and weaving through the sea of players. The shouts of my teammates were a distant echo, my name constantly being called out.
I caught the ball, cradling it in my stick's netting as if it were the most precious thing in the world. The goal loomed ahead. With a defender on my heels, I made a split-second decision. I feinted left, then spun right, leaving her stumbling in my path.
There it was, the perfect opening. I planted my feet and drew my stick back, the world narrowing to the eye of a needle. With all the force of my hopes and dreams, I sent the ball hurtling towards the net. It sliced through the air, a spinning orb of potential, and then impact.
The sound of the ball slamming into the back of the net was the sweetest music, a symphony of victory that played just for me. I threw my arms up, my teammates rushing to my side, a mosaic of joyous faces. We were a constellation of stars, and in that moment, I shone the brightest.
The game continued, a blur of motion and emotion, but that first goal was a promise of what was to come. And this was just the beginning.
The game's pace sped up. But then, in a second that I could never have prepared for, my world tilted. A misplaced step, a push from an opponent, and I was tumbling to the ground, the shock of impact shaking through me.
For a moment, everything stopped. The pain was a sharp, bright thing that threatened to overwhelm me. I lay there, the sky a dizzying blue above, and I could hear the concern in my teammates' voices, a chorus of worry that broke through the haze of my fall.
"Charlotte, are you okay? Did it hurt, or did it just scare you?" The question came from somewhere near, a voice tinged with urgency.
I took a deep breath, testing my limbs, and looking up to see Kate. She had ran down the bleachers and pushed through the coaches and referees to be right here, by my side, when I needed her the most.
"It just scared me," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. The truth was, it had hurt, but the fear of being sidelined, of letting my team down, letting my family down, letting Kate down was the greater ache.
