Page 37 of The Keeper
“Will you shut up a second?” He stops talking and just looks at me. “I really like your idea about Wharton and James and the intersecting presentations. Lets talk to Markson about it.”
His smile comes out full force.
“Really?” I nod. “Sweet. Okay. Yeah, I’ll start putting together a proposal after the game tomorrow and I’ll send it your way so you can incorporate your thoughts.”
“Sounds good.” I smile back at him.
He reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. “This is going to be great, RJ. Really.”
I nod again with a smile, then turn to jog over to where my teammates are meeting as a group.
Its time for a little fun.
* * * * *
After we divide into co-ed teams, we get started. Playing soccer with the guys is one of my favorite parts of playing soccer in general. It reminds me of playing football in high school. The camaraderie is just different. More relaxed and playful. A little more rough and tumble.
Jeremy used to brag about me to the guys on his team when I was a freshman. How I wasn’t fragile and could take anything that came my way. That mentality has stayed with the guys’ team over the years, becausedamndo they come at me full force.
It’s thrilling though. To take the risk of charging out from the goal and be able to grab a ball when it is just inches away from your opponent’s feet. The rush of meeting another player’s eyes as you both power towards the same object, both so sure that you’ll be the first to make it, is like nothing else. However, there’s also the risk of getting a foot to the face, a cleat in the hand or other body part, the ball kicked into your nose.
Which is how I find myself flat on my back, clutching my side, attempting to recover from having the wind knocked out of me.
“Holy shit, RJ! I’m so sorry!”
I can hear Will’s voice, but my eyes are clamped shut as I hold my hand against my abdomen. I hear someone drop to the ground next to me.
“Are you okay?”
I want to respond but I’m taking large gasps, trying to bring in enough air.
“Is this the only place it hurts?”
Tender hands take hold of mine and remove them from my side, touching lightly over my clothes. I grunt in pain when the wounded area is poked a little to hard.
“Don’t touch that spot again,” I say, finally opening my eyes and finding Thomas on his knees next to me. I try to hike up onto my elbows to see, but pain radiates through me and I remain flat on the ground.
“Such a tough one,” Thomas jokes, smiling as he pushes my sweaty hair out of my face. “You know, you can acknowledge the pain and no one will judge you for it.” I give him a playful roll of my eyes.
“Rachel, you okay?” I look quickly away from Thomas towards Mack, who is now standing next to us but slightly behind me. I’m unsure how long he has been standing there. His mouth is in a thin line again, but I don’t think it’s out of concern for me. When I find his eyes, I realize they are trained on Thomas’ hands, which are resting on my stomach and my thigh.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thomas was just…”
“Well if you’re fine, get up and we’ll keep going. Please don’t waste time laying around on the ground. This isn’t the pros, and I don’t accept dramatic, overinflated pretend injuries.”
His tone is clipped, a clear demonstration that Mack doesn’t know how to accept our circumstances without blowing everything out of proportion. He turns quickly and walks back to the sidelines.
“What a prick,” Thomas mumbles as he and Will help me to stand. “Maybe you should have Erin stand in for you for the rest of the game. You know, so you’re all good for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. We don’t have much time left anyway.”
As I turn to head towards the sidelines, I hear Thomas call out after me.
“You’re a total badass, by the way!” When I turn to look at him, he and Will are still standing there looking at me. “The last guy to take a cleat in the rib from Will was carried off the field.” I shoot him a huge smile. “Total. Bad. Ass.”
I smile and turn to jog over to the sidelines, but slow to a walk after I feel the stab of pain that shoots through me.
Janice Grange, our athletic trainer, comes over to where I’m seated after a few minutes and lays me back on the bench to get a better look at the damage. When she pulls my shirt up slightly, I can see that there are dark grooves above my ribs where Will’s cleat connected with me. Several of the indentations are bleeding from deep scratches.
