“Come on guys!” Nick shouts. “We can do this!”
Our team drags their tired legs to the center of the field. We know we’ve probably got only one last shot before the ref whistles for the end of the game. Maria starts the action, exchanging a quick pass with Jane who knocks it back to me, reminiscent of our first play. Katie doesn’t look at me, her head down, a sign that she’s too tired to run for it. I switch up the play, kicking the ball into the air and over to our left midfield. Nick, with a perfectly controlled volley, one-times the ball to Maria. She exchanges a rapid succession of passes with Jane as they skillfully carve their way up the left wing of the field. The majority of the red team is rushing toward them along the sideline, trying to box them into the corner. Our entire team is now rushing the penalty box; even our goalie is making a mad run for it. Maria slips the ball between her defender’s legs and fires a cross with her left foot. I can immediately tell the pass has too much weight on it; Katie is the closest but her nicotine-stained lungs are shot.
I’m barely past midfield, but I can’t just stand here and watch Katie blow our chance. I dig my cleats into the ground and furiously drive every muscle in my body. Suddenly, there’s a strong zapping sensation in my hands, like a bolt of electricity. Then, in what feels like only a second, I’m in the corner, just a few feet away from Katie as she stops the ball from going out of the sidelines. When she turns, she’s startled by my sudden appearance, clumsily kicking the ball toward the goal. It flies wide and bounces off the low wall behind the goal. It lands back into the field and sputters into a slow, dramatic roll.
The referee sounds the whistle, and the game is over.
We lost.
Katie puts her hands on her head. “Harper, where did you come from? I was all alone out here! You scared the shit out of me and made me screw that up!”
“Harper, how did you do that?” I hear Nick, out of breath jogging up behind us. “It looked like you just ran fifty meters at a crazy speed!”
I bend over and take a breath. “I didn’t want to lose!”
He laughs at my response, though I wasn’t kidding.
Carson’s team is mostly jumping in a circle, but a few of their players are looking at me. The small crowd behind them is also staring.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water.” I wipe away the sweat dripping down my face. It’s been more than a week since my last workout and my stomach isn’t pleased about it. Vomit begins to bubble up my throat.
I rush toward the bathroom drinking fountain and try not to pay attention to the gawking little kids. Why is everyone staring at me? Never seen a girl run that fast before?
I duck my head and hurry on. Not looking at where I’m going, I bump into someone hard.
“I’m so … Brett?!” I nearly fall over.
“Harper,” he says with a mirrored, awestruck expression.
I tense up and consider running for it, but he’s just standing there. That’s when I notice his brown hair is oily, and his t-shirt is covered in sweat stains. He’s never come to one of my soccer games before. Does that mean Mom’s here too? I whirl around but I don’t see her.
My stomach gurgles loudly, I dive for the water fountain a few feet away. I take three large gulps and splash some of the water on my face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning back to him. “Come here on a little mission from Mom?”
“No,” he says defensively. “I, I didn’t know you were playing here. Why aren’t you at home? You’re grounded.” He says it with so much less conviction than I would have expected from him. He glances at all the people leaving, as if one of them might jump out and attack him.
“Mom said I could play tonight,” I lie, guessing it might buy me another hour of freedom before she comes at me with a vengeance so severe that this might be what gets me locked in the closet until I’m eighteen. “What are you doing here?” I ask again.
“One of my friends was playing for Carson. Asked me to come along.” Brett nods to indicate the tall, muscular figure looming a few yards behind him.
I hadn’t even noticed his friend, standing there as stiff as a statue, quietly observing me.
“That’s Max,” Brett says. “We met at work a few weeks ago.”
I reach out my hand. “Hi Max, I’m Harper, Brett’s sister, unfortunately.”
“Nice,” Brett growls.
Max glances at my extended fingers. He looks at Brett, who nods, and then back at me. He gives a firm handshake. At least Brett’s friend has some spine.
“Nice to meet you,” he replies very formally.
We all stand there for an odd second, letting the noise of flushing toilets fill the silence. Then the sound of giggling girls wafts up from the field. Moments later, Katie butts up against me, joking with Maria and Jane beside her.
Katie is about to say something when her blue eyes zero in on Max. She bites her bottom lip. “Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” she says, twisting the end of her blonde ponytail around her finger. “You Brett’s friend?”
Max turns his head quickly in her direction. “Yes,” he says in the same serious tone as before.
Brett breaks in, “Well, we better get going. See you at home, Harper.” He and Max walk off to the emptying parking lot. I’m surprised that he didn’t call Mom to check on me.
“And I thought Brett was hot!” Katie says, fanning herself with her hand. “That Max is fire!”
“Gross. Remind me never to let you near my brother again,” I say.
“You can’t keep true love apart forever …” Katie claps her hands together.
“Anyway …” I respond. That’s the last thing Brett —or I—deserve.
Jane holds her water bottle to her face. Her once tight ponytail now has stray hairs hanging from her temples. “I’ve never seen you run like that before, Harper. Damn. Maybe you should run track and field. If you can keep that pace up, there’s no way you wouldn’t get a scholarship.”
“I told her that!” Maria shouts.
“Really?” I say, “It was that noticeable?”
“Dude. You were running so fast I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me,” Jane says, sweeping up her ponytail.
“I hear Berkeley has a great track team,” Maria says with a smirk.
“Well I’m starving,” Katie says. “Who wants cheap Chinese food to forget about this stupid game?” She wraps her sweatshirt around her neck and searches in her soccer bag. “Where are those stupid keys?”
I decide to go. I’ll take all the fresh air I can get before I face Mom’s wrath.

We park our cars in front of a Chinese restaurant nestled into a row of other small shops. Inside, the walls are covered with Chinese food photos faded by the sun. At the center of each table are bottles of soy sauce and faux flowers in tiny vases.
We sit down. A waitress greets us with menus and chopsticks. Katie waves the menus away. “We’ll take four number twelves, please.”
The waitress nods and leaves us for the kitchen, hidden behind a metal swinging door.
In the corner of the restaurant a muted TV flashes in the large mirrors on the opposing wall.