Mom’s hand drops, as if she’s not sure if she’s heard me correctly. “What did you say?” She dares me to speak again.
“I’ll go upstairs, after we have a family meeting about something.”
Brett sighs.
Mom lifts an eyebrow. “Is this a joke? You’re in no place for negotiations.”
“I just want to make sure that you’re not going to lay a hand on Olivia again, like you promised this whole family.”
Mom’s face drops and her hard expression softens. For an instant she looks like a little girl, puckering her lips at me and then Brett with big, shimmering eyes. “I, I didn’t mean to,” she sniffles. “I told Olivia I was sorry after.” Her voice gets small and pathetic as tears start to roll down her cheeks.
I step closer to her. I’m nearly as tall as she is now. “If you touch her again —”
“Harper!” Brett says, putting himself between us.
“Why are you defending her? She choked our little sister! Don’t you care?!”
“I won’t do it again!” Mom says behind him, dropping to her knees, pleading to Olivia. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it. I just get so angry sometimes, baby.”
Olivia starts tearing up too. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“No! It’s not okay!” I yell, Brett blocking me. “Don’t apologize! Your apologies are pointless, Mom! Just stop doing it then you won’t have anything to apologize for!”
Mom crawls over to Olivia and wraps her arms around her, sobbing into her t-shirt.
“Move, Brett!” I shove him out of the way and pull Olivia from Mom’s grasp. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs and talk. You don’t need this fake bullshit.”
As I shut Olivia’s bedroom door, Mom is still blubbering downstairs, Brett repeating over and over again that it will be okay.
On Wednesday, game day, Mom and Brett are out again when a loud knocking erupts at my front door. I consider acting like nobody’s home until I hear Katie’s voice shout, “Harper! Open up!”
I rush downstairs. “Katie! You can’t be here! I’m serving a life sentence now,” I say, straightening up my pajamas, which I’ve been wearing since yesterday. I quickly run my fingers through my messy short hair, which is sticking up all over the place.
I open the door.
“Yeah, Maria told me, dude … but you see … that means you can’t get into any more trouble …” She twirls her car keys. “We’ve got no shot at beating Carson without you. Get dressed.”
“Katie, I —”
“Dude! You’re already grounded till like forever right? Or at least until you’re eighteen. So who cares? Your mom is a jerk anyway.”
“You should go,” Olivia says. She pops up behind me, holding a bowl of oatmeal, giving me a smile.
“Thank you!” Katie gives her a high five.
I consider this. It’s August and I wouldn’t be eighteen until February, but I’ve been grounded for much longer than that, and for much less. “Are you sure they’ll even let me play? I’ve missed the last two practices. They’ve kicked people off the team for that.”
“Don’t worry, dude! Maria, Jane, and I have been telling them that you got a really nasty flu — which actually kind of freaked them out because they thought it might have been the Syndrome — but we told them it was more a vomiting thing. So yeah. Act like you’re getting over a bug if they ask.”
I turn to Olivia. “You want to come too?”
She shakes her head. “Maybe the next one. I was going to finish watching my show. Sorry, but I’m exhausted from last night.”
I give her a hug. “I’ll see you after the game.”
“Kick ass,” she says with a smirk.
Katie pulls her silver VW Bug up to Hilltop Park. Gravel crunches under our feet as we leave the parking lot. The old stadium lights glare on circling swarms of flying insects, and the sides of the field are scattered with people in lawn chairs and on picnic blankets. Small children are chasing each other around with miniature soccer balls on the field, and the evening air smells like sagebrush.
“You going to kill it today?” Katie asks enthusiastically.
“I guess,” I respond, already starting to regret this decision, wishing I was safely at home.
“What’s your deal, Harper? You’ve been distant lately.”
I shrug. “Just got a lot going on.”
She makes an odd face at me and lets it go. We reach the rest of our team in yellow uniforms.
“Hey! How you feeling?” asks Nick, a co-ed on our team. His messy red hair is already damp with sweat.
“Much better. That was a rough week. Dehydration can really get to ya after that many nights on the toilet.”
“Um. Glad you’re feeling better,” he says awkwardly. “We’ve missed your speed! You’re the only one who convinces us to run laps.” He quickly looks for someone else to talk to. “Oh! Hey, John! You bring those extra shin guards?”
“Maybe that was a tad too much detail,” Katie whispers.
“Alright, people!” Nick shouts, gathering everyone together. “The game starts in twenty minutes. Let’s do two warm-up laps and then get into the stretching circle!”
Maria and Jane jog over. Maria studies me, undoubtedly searching for signs of instability.
We start to jog. My eyes keep drifting back into the darkness, over and over again, as if I’m looking for something.
The whistle finally blows and the game starts. Jane intercepts a pass and knocks the ball back to me. She sprints forward, pulling red uniforms with her. I pass a through-ball to the right wing of the field, where one of the red Carson midfielders left a hole to follow Jane. With a deft first touch, Katie advances the ball down the sideline. I cut inside, running toward the penalty area, where Jane is waiting for Katie’s cross. She’s got too many red shirts on her, though. Katie’s seen it and she launches her cross slightly backward. I start sprinting faster, and for the first time in a week, I feel it again: a pure joy that only comes with the love of the game. With the joy, comes the hunger. I become angry at the thought of anyone reaching that ball before me.
I hear footsteps and heavy panting from behind me, but I’ll get there first. The goalie gets into his stance as I pull back my right leg to shoot. His face drops when I let the ball pass between my feet. Jane, now free of defenders, sticks out her foot and sends the ball into the net.
“Fantastic fake out!” Katie yells as she runs toward us to celebrate. “Keep that up and we’ll be eating pizza tonight!”
The remaining first half of the game is mostly a battle for possession. Carson makes a few good plays but our defense holds firm.
The equalizing play comes in the second half, when Nick screws up by attempting to slide tackle a red shirt that manages to get past his center-back position. Nick must be super tired to make a move that dumb. Our wing-back moves to cover, but thanks to Nick, he’s momentarily outnumbered. The Carson strikers make it look painfully easy as they get around him with a skillful one-two pass. I groan as I watch the ball skim past our goalie’s fingertips and into the net. Then they punch in a free kick with just two minutes to go.