Page 3 of Hits Different

I freeze. Everything flashes white. Something short circuits in my head.

Parker Di Rossi. I never thought I’d hear that name again.

I haven’t seen him in years, although technically, I’m on his turf. This ishiscollege we’re playing at, after all. Not that Parker was ever really into soccer, or anything resembling team-based activities. You have to enjoy being around people to want to be part of a team.

Something twangs in my ear.Is he here to see me?

I shake my head sharply. Damn it.

He can still throw me off balance without even trying.

Freddie stares at me searchingly. I’m spared having to answer by Coach, who claps his hands together, bringing us in to huddle. Nervous energy crackles in the air. We’re so close to getting what we’ve worked for. What we deserve.

“If you want to go home without a trophy, then carry on playing like you’ve already lost”, Coach’s eyes flare. “If you want to let each other down. But if you want to win, if you want to bring home more than just each other, then let’s see it”. His eyes land on me, and every muscle in my body tightens. “Something fucking glorious”.

“Win on THREE”, yells Reuben, and we all howl in unison.

I force the image of Parker Di Rossi from my mind as we clatter out. I’ve got a game to win. The last thing I need is my focus being pulled by the only guy to ever break my heart.

Forty minutes later, we’re still tied and I’m starting to panic. Five minutes left, and my stomach is in knots.The fans are frustrated. Even the mascot looks anxious, and he’s a giant dancing wolf.

But that’s not why I’ve got a funny feeling that I can’t shake. It’s the way that my attention lifts to the stands every time the whistle blows. The snatch of faces that I scan hopefully. The familiar pang of longing, buried deep in my gut.

Parker’s here. Parker’s here. Parker’s here.

To punch me in the face, probably. And I guess I couldn’t blame him. Not after what happened. I opened up when I should have just kept my mouth shut.

One of the Bear’s forwards comes flying towards me, but I outpace him easily, pulling the ball back and firing it to Reuben in midfield. He takes it, launches it towards goal, where it hits the crossbar. Volchok screams at his defenders, even shoving one, for letting us get that close to scoring.

A collective groan goes up, and I clap, encouraging us to keep going.

Everyone will say, a thought flashes painfully through my mind,that you’re all hype. All smoke and no fire. That you don’t really deserve to be here.

Three minutes left.

You’re going to be found out, Brandon. It was only ever a matter of time.

Two minutes.

Parker will see you lose.

No matter what we try, we can’t break through their midfield formation. On the sidelines, Coach is pacing in exasperation. His words ring through to me.

Something fucking glorious.

Alright. Here goes nothing.I catch Freddie’s attention. ‘Freshman Playoffs’ I mouth. His eyes widen as he realises what I’m going to do. He shakes his head in warning.

I charge forward, muscling my way past their midfielders. I hear Freddie shouting my name, but I shoot past him too, taking the ball with me. From the centre, Reuben’s yelling at me to follow the game plan, but I don’t stop.

I just need to find the space, the same space Volchok leaves open every time he - and bang—it’s right there. My legs are burning, I've never run this fast. The crowd are on their feet. Defenders scatter in my wake as Freddie distracts them by heading to the corner.

It’s me and Volchok, with his last defender sweeping in to intercept. Volchok’s the best goalkeeper in the league. He’s used to strikers aiming for the furthest corners of the net, just out of his grasp. The very last place on earth he expects me to aim the ball is directly at him.

So that’s exactly what I do. As hard as I possibly can.

His mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. There’s barely ten feet between us and it hits him square in the shin, rebounding right at me. I’m hoping to God the ref doesn’t call a foul because this is my last chance. The ball ricochets towards me and I curve it over Volchok’s head and into the back of the net.

The crowd explodes, but that’s when I realise my mistake.

---