Chapter Text
"Emma!," my nanny, Megan, calls up the stairs. "You're going to be late for the first day of clinic!"
"Yeah, okay!" I haphazardly throw my dark hair into a ponytail. I am really not in the mood to go to the soccer clinic. Aside from a ton of homework every night, I have an activity practically every day of the week-ballet, cello, equestrian, lacrosse, soccer, tennis-some nights I am not even able to get to bed until midnight.
"One of these days we're actually going to get you to a place on time," Megan shakes her head as I hurry down the stairs.
"Well....we could skip it? That way you won't have to worry about hurrying through traffic," I suggest.
"Not a chance," Megan gently pushes me in the direction of the front door. "God-only-knows how much money your parents paid for this clinic. And why wouldn't you go? Two of the world cup winners are holding it . Most kids would give their left kidney for an opportunity like this."
I give her a half-smile as I walk out the door and towards the circular driveway. I would give my left kidney for an afternoon of watching TV and playing on YouTube.
"After clinic I need to go to Julia's house to work on our history project. It's due on Friday and it counts for a quarter of our grade for the semester," I say as I hop into Megan's BMW a few feet away from the front door. It's actually my parents' but they let her use it when she's working.
"You're going to have to talk to your dad about that." Megan slides into the driver's seat.
My heart stops for a minute. "My dad is picking me up tonight?"
Megan throws me a curious look."Yeah. I have a class at GW and can't pick you up. Is that okay? I thought you would be thrilled to have some time with him since he's always working."
"Yeah, no, that's fine." I say quickly, my heart practically jumping into my throat.
"Okay." Megan smiles. "Get your seatbelt on."
As we weave through Northern Virginia traffic, I find myself starting to panic. My father never picks me up from anything. He's the president of a large defense contractor and is almost always travelling or in meetings. Something must be wrong.
"So, I read a little about this clinic you are going to." Megan says as she maneuvers the car over into the right lane. "Ashlyn Harris and Ali Krieger are quite impressive."
"Um, yeah," I say absently.
"Are any of the kids from your team going?"
"I think so." I take a small bite of my nail, a habit I have when I'm upset or nervous about something.
"I ran into Lindsay's mother and she said that she was coming."
I resist a groan. I go to the Potomac School with Lindsay and she is incredibly annoying-very talkative and always trying to one-up people.
"You will have a great time once you get there." Megan playfully pokes me in the ribs.
A few minutes later we pull up to the sports complex.
"Need me to come in with you?" Megan offers.
"No, it's fine." I shut the door and give her a wave. "Have fun in class and I'll see you tomorrow morning."
She blows me a kiss.
"Emma! Emma!" An unmistakable voice calls from behind.
"Hey Lindsay," I try to mask the irritation in my voice. Within seconds, she's by my side, curly red hair blowing in the breeze, her face flushed with excitement.
"Can you believe we're doing an eight week soccer clinic with Allie Krieger and Ashlyn Harris!," she gushes." Of course I've met them in person several times. My father has bought me front row tickets to a few of the national team games. And of course we have season tickets to Washington Spirit."
Of course.
"So......." She talks non-stop from the parking lot to the fields behind the soccer complex. It's not until we get to the registration table that she reverts her attention to someone else.
"I'm Lindsay Goldberg, David Goldberg's daughter." She tells the young kid checking people in, in her signature snotty, authoratative tone.
The young man, from what I can tell, is not impressed. /p>
"Emma Hall." I say to the young girl beside him. I'm promptly handed a water bottle, a t-shirt, and a soccer ball. "They are just getting started. You're in Ali Krieger's group."
"Yay!" Lindsay squeals. "We're in the same group.
Awesome.
She practically drags me to where a very pretty brunette is sitting in a circle with 15 or so kids.
"Hi! Welcome!" The brunette flashes us a brilliantly white smile. "I'm Ali Krieger! Have a seat, we are just getting started."
Lindsay quickly releases my hand so that she can squeeze into a spot next to Ali. She ends up practically in her lap. "I don't know if you remember me but I've been to sooooooo many of your games!! Lindsay Goldberg is the name,"
Lindsay says.
"Nice to have you!" Ali responds in a very genuine tone. I, on the other hand, resist a gag as I plop down beside a girl with stringy blond hair.
Ali runs through the day's agenda before group warm-up. Lindsay, not surprisingly, hangs unto her every word with her mouth agape. After warm-up, the group transitions into drills-with Lindsay volunteering herself as the squad leader.
The hours surprisingly go by quickly. Before I know it,we are scrimmaging against Ashlyn Harris' group. I play center forward, probably my best position, and score twice off the other team.
"Hey! It's 'Emma' right?," Ali approaches me as I'm gathering up my things to leave.
"Um...yeah." I stammer, almost dropping the cleats in my hand. Even though I reluctantly came to clinic today, Ali has me admitedly a tad starstruck.
"You did great today." She says. "Do you do any developmental programs around here?"
"No, I usually just play club soccer," I shake my head. "But..."
"I play in a developmental program!" Lindsay appears out of nowhere. "I do it year round. It's amazing! The coaches think that I will be good enough to get called up to the National Team in a few years."
"Wow!" Ali flashes her a brilliant smile.
Lindsay, naturally, doesn't stop at this. After politely listening to her stories, I finally excuse myself. I grab my bag and head towards the parking lot. It doesn't take me long to spot my dad, who is leaning up against his Mercedes with his arms crossed. Even from a distance, I can tell that he's angry.
"Hi dad!" I say cheerfully as I approach the car.
"You're late." He spats. "Clinic ended at 6:30 and you're coming out at 6:35. Do you really think that I have all fucking night to wait around for you?"
My face goes a faint shade of pink. "I'm sorry, dad. Ali Krieger, she plays for the National Team and Washington Spirit, was talking to me and.."
"I don't give a damn who she is. You come out immediately after practice, do you hear me?! "He booms. Fortunately, the parking lot is practically empty, and no one can hear him.
"Okay, dad." Instead of getting into the car, however, I decide to bite the bullet and tell him that I need him to drop me off at Julia's. I know it's going to infuriate him but I would rather be yelled at in a parking lot then in a confined car.
"Um, dad." I say." I need to be dropped off at Julia's to work on a project. It shouldn't be any trouble really, she just lives down the street from us. It's on our way home. And her parents can drop me back off tonight."
His face tightens. "This is the goddamn problem. You are never prepared for anything and are always doing things at the last minute. Now you expect me to drop you off. You are the most irresponsible, stupid kid I've ever met."
"But,dad,the project is due on Friday and it's only Monday. And we worked on most of it already. We just have to finish some things up."
"Don't you ever fucking talk back to me again!" He gets so close to that his words vibrate my chest. "Get in the fucking car, right now!"
I quickly hurry to the passenger side, tears threatening to spill down my face. Years of practice, however, has taught me to keep them at bay.
"It's enough that I had to pick you up when I have a very important meeting to go to at 8 o'clock tonight. Don't you see how much I do for you and you appreciate none of it ." He continues to fume.
"I'm sorry, dad." I swallow the large lump in my throat that always forms when he starts in on me.
"It's always you. You're always causing trouble. Your sister never did this." He screams.
Jane, my older sister, has never done anything wrong in his eyes. But then again, she's perfect in just about every way.
"What? You got nothing to say to me?," He roughly grabs my arm.
"No...but ," I fumble. A hot tear rolls down my face and I quickly brush it away with my free hand.
"You stupid, ungrateful...." He begins to say but a knock on my window stops him. Startled, I look up to see Ali Krieger smiling back at me with my soccer cleats in her hand.
"You left these!" She mouths.
I look over at my dad, who has suddenly let go of my arm, opting instead to plaster a fake smile on his handsome, distinguished face. I slowly roll down the window.
"Thank..thank you so much," I manage to say as I fervently blink back a new wave of tears.
"Sure, no problem!," she smiles as she hands me my cleats. "So, I will see you in clinic tomorrow?"
"You sure will!" Dad pipes in happily. "She adores soccer!"
"Yes." I nod, swallowing hard, the lump feeling like it's gotten twenty times larger than before.
Ali looks at me with a mix of curiosity and worry. "Well, have a good night!," she finally says.
"You too!" Dad gives her a wave as I roll up my window.
As she walks away I only have one thought going through my mind, "How much of it had she heard?"