PART TWO k – The Townhouse

  "So. I'm being banged silly, by The Hurricane. The guys in the math b are gonna have a field day with that one, when school starts. What's your nickname, little one."

  "I'm Light. Short for The Little Lightning. I got the fastest 100 yard dash in the team's history until they find something quicker one day. I ran track too in high school, but I was a sprinter, not a distance runner. I obviously also pyed soccer. You can see which one I'm better at. As fast as I am, I can't pce in our division running the 100 for the track team. This thing elbowing me every fifteen seconds? That's Right. Every girl has a strong foot and a weak foot. Her right foot is slightly more accurate than mine. But I'm almost as good with my weak foot as my strong foot."

  "You girls going to have a contest? You might as well finish letting me show you two off."

  "Right? How about to 20?"

  "If you don't feed my strong foot, I get it over."

  "Yeah, I know… I promise, I'll feed your strong side, and starve your tardfoot, okay? Christ, you could get that left foot cut off, and it wouldn't affect your game much, you know that?"

  "Blow it out your twat. What's the bet? I ain't kicking your ass for nothing."

  "We were pnning on watching a movie, girls. Winner picks the movie?"

  "Right, you on?"

  "I'm on. Let's do it."

  Right and Light raced back to their positions, each near their own practice goal in the yard. Right had a head start, and Light kept up fine, but at the st moment her jets turned on. She could do that sprinter's trick where their stride lengthened and it gave the impression they floated on air between footfalls. By the time they hit the center point of both goals to the one ball they left there, Light had passed her and edged her out by a step or two. I smiled and gnced over to see how he was enjoying the show.

  "Is it the legs? Or… you're actually impressed."

  "Both. They're both faster than anything I ever saw, but Light? Jesus H. Christ, honey…"

  "I know, right. Watch the scoring game. You never saw anything like this, unless you watch the girls soccer team for the Olympics, I swear. Especially Light."

  "Does she have a chance to…"

  "Believe it or not? Probably not. I bet by the time she's a senior, though, she gets invited to the Olympic tryouts. She might not make it, but, even getting picked to try out, as a remote possibility? Is an honor few girls will ever see. Just watch…"

  "Hey Hurry. These two at it again?"

  Another girl had come up behind us.

  "Hey Boot. Yeah. We were just showing them off to my friend here."

  "Friend, huh? I see your cheerleader, got promoted to first string, unless he stole your clothes. When's the wedding?"

  "When we graduate, unless something happens, Bootsie."

  "Best of luck, Hurry."

  "Thank you. You still…"

  "Yep."

  "This is a new record for you."

  "I try. What's the bet?"

  "Winner picks our movie."

  "Right. I pick Right."

  "Light gets her enough. Boot? This is…"

  "I know who he is. Everyone knows Toot. Plus? You never shut up, who could forget. I guess you finally stuck your number on him, after st night, eh?"

  "You know about that already? Christ."

  "First off, we live right next door. Second? You rattled the dishes about a dozen times. You guys were all either fucking elephants? Or someone got trimmed up. Plus? I got the video already. I'd like to congratute you? On some fine work there, girl. Top notch stuff."

  "Whats a Toot? Is that another nickname for a groupie?"

  I expined.

  "No. You, are Toot. You, are a tutor. In the math b. Any athlete gets sent for a tutor on our team? You, are recommended by name. Our coach already knows you by name. He calls you, the Schorship Saver. SS for short."

  "Thanks Toot."

  "For?"

  "You got my girlfriend through her math css. She kept her schorship. That makes up for asking my st girlfriend out, so it evens out. Don't worry, Hurry, that was before you had your first date. You can rest easy."

  "Bootsie? Man to man, I didn't know I was asking out your girl. My apologies."

  "No problem. No need to be a bitch about it. No way you'd have known about it anyways. She was one of the shy ones, wouldn't wear my number around."

  "Bootsie, be nice."

  "Aw, just yanking your chain, Toot."

  "Hey, man. Guys haze each other. Do your thing, dude."

  Boot started ughing.

  "You're all right, Toot. I ain't the first one of me you been around, am I?"

  "Spent 4 years in the service, Bootsie. We had a few. No biggie. I was actually kind of best friends with a girl I worked around, that uh… you'd have probably liked to hang out with."

  "How'd that go."

  "The service? Or being around a chick that pulled better ass than I did. You're going to have to crify."

  Bootsie was giving a hearty ugh now, and I knew her. It was genuine.

  "Both."

  "What can I say. Once I got over the initial shock, and you gotta forgive me, I grew up in a small town, kind of a sheltered upbringing. Whatever. The one I knew? We used to have a few beers down at the local watering hole. We'd sit there, and rate the chicks coming through. Hey. She had a good eye. God help me? She usually had a cuter girl than I had. I didn't have my game down pat back then, you understand."

  Boot was threatening to go into stitches.

  "Hurry, we okay?"

  "We're good, Boot."

  "Toot? Your girl's gotta be the toughest straight girl I ever met. You're a lucky man."

  "Coming from an expert like you? Thanks. I take that as a serious compliment."

  She, and I use that term very loosely, giggled some more.

  "All right Hurry. I ain't looking to make you sore, I ain't gonna stand here and watch Light too much. You kids have fun."

  "Bye, Bootsie."

  He couldn't help a parting shot.

  "Bye, Boot. We ever have a beer at one of the team things? Boot 'n Toot, we sound like a goddamn country western act, eh?"

  "You're all right, Toot. Hurry? Let me know who won. And you guys if you hear loud music, just come over. You don't need invited we have a few people over. With you on my left, I know I got my fnk covered. Bye kids."

  We both said bye again.

  Two or more of our starting pyers were watching Light and Right go at it. These girls were serious assets, and it generated interest to see them taking their practice shots. Only a couple shots each in. Light had a 1 point advantage, but that could change quick this early in. He was watching with keen interest now. I also knew why. These two were not passing on the ground, and one timing their shots on their small and therefore harder to hit practice nets.

  They were unching their passes, and were kicking it out of the air, and hitting their marks. Their air passes were inching higher, and each was trying to show off more, seeing who could get more ooh's and ahh's out of the team spectators. They were both picking their shots at or above their head levels now. It was impressive to see them starting to leave the ground, and still kicking high enough to wrap their instep around the edge of the ball to deflect it into their little nets. Right finally blinked, metaphorically speaking. She tried a bicycle kick, where your first kick just set up a bigger, longer faster one, and she just missed the net, making for a dull cnk off of the metal frame.

  Pissed but keeping her cool, Light went for a big bicycle kick now as well. She had to take 2 or 3 running steps to get the speed to get up far enough to attempt it, and she managed to hit the very edge of the net. Seeing her appear to walk on air, still rising, really was something. Making contact was enough of a feat, let alone hitting the edge of the target. The first real appuse from the onlookers had her beaming and raising her fist for her audience. It got her blood moving to have an audience. Cheers or boos would each set her off, and she would ratchet her performance up. That st shot had been impressive even after she scored. The way she contorted and twisted in the air to come down on some sembnce of her spikes and not nding badly and getting the wind knocked out of her or worse was as impressive as the shot itself.

  Right got up with some vertical height off the ground, and headed the ball in. By hitting the tiny inside net, she scored extra and brought it close again. A good bit of these townhouses all in a row, were all our first string pyers. More were coming out to see it near the end. Light was up by one point, and didn't even have to go up for her st, high pass. She could just let it sail by, do nothing, and still win. Not a girl like her or Right, neither one.

  These were our prized stars, top recruiting picks that coaches move heaven and earth to get. These girls weren't just local news, they were repeat state pyers in Quad A leagues they hailed from in their own states. They had been standouts even there, and each were on opposing sides for the big national all-star year end series. For a Quad A high school, this takes a hometown star, puts them on the map for statewide attention, then on to national attention. The eastern all-star team would py the final series against the western all-star team, to determine the… basically the Quad A high school girls soccer super bowl, to put it into everyday terms easily understood.

  There's no real winner and loser by that point. All those girls, on both sides, win or lose… are recruited by every major college and university across the country. Big schools, with serious budgets, competing for these luminaries to agree to pick their school to get a free schorship. Any legal perk that can be offered, is on the table to nd one of these hope diamonds of the sport. The parents get their asses kissed and polished, in an effort to influence them to entice their sway over their daughters.

  Light's team won, but only by it coming down to the wire for the final game in the series. What national coverage is even devoted to girls college soccer? Interviews, takes pictures, and writes about these top picks before, during, and after an event this big. Right's team had tied it up with a couple minutes left in the final series, game numbers tied. Light had bolted out of nowhere, streaking up through the crowd, ahead of anything resembling backup when the ball got cleared nearly goal to goal, and was on it after the second bounce from its nding. On one of her infamous dead runs, she had nicked it with her knee without slowing, sending it down and had gotten her shot off before it left the corner sideline.

  When you're on that bad of an angle, its the exact por opposite of shooting straight at the goal. The wider your angle, the skinnier your net is. She was at that point when you're watching the repy, shooting at perhaps a target down to… two balls wide, maybe three at best. The goalie had to make a snap decision, if this was going to be a ground pass shot, or a little up on a rising angle. The goalie chose ground and dove face first with hands out, trying to cut the angle off. Her shot rose on a slight angle and the goalie managed to scrape fingertips off and that was it.

  She didn't even get a chance to realize her shot had gone in, coming up and hitting the far corner top, and ricocheting in off the far side post. She never remembered her winning goal in the game of her life at that point in her young career, because she was in a bad spot. That te in a tight game, adrenaline is running high. This streak of greased lightning that was able to actually pace a ball cleared from end to end, and get on it, was moving fast. Too fast as it turned out. The fullback, a big one, was coming with everything she had to try to get to her. The shot was no sooner off her spikes when she got leveled. With her feet off the ground at the moment she took her impact, blind to the incoming freight train? She went flying. She did a catty-wumpus 360 airborne and nded with her face and shoulder on a big water jug, and careened off to take out a garbage can.

  Poor thing never remembered anything, going back many minutes from the impact. She didn't remember the ball being cleared, her blurred streak pacing it and catching it, her amazing knee control that set her shot up on the move, none of it. It was just something she had to read about, and watch repys to see what had happened. Our coach accurately figured out that her academics were not a driving force in her choice, she was no standout academic student. For her, four years of college would likely be the high point of her life, and nothing else would ever come close.

  To her, the Coach kept pointing out how top rated our school and team was. How much coverage was possible in our sport, by attending here. What her chances were, pretty good, at getting a title. To her parents, he emphasized things parents like to hear. How closely he watches over his pyers, how safe the campus is, how safe the town is. And, how much help she would receive, to aid her in her quest for a college degree, artfully navigating the minefield of basically telling parents she would "get" a degree of some kind. Whatever it was, at least she would have one, and that it would cost them nothing. You can't come right out and say, hey look, your daughter isn't the sharpest knife in any drawer looking at her grades, but I'll see she gets a paper with her name on it in something, okay? But you can't emphasize the high academic standards for a ckluster student, either. He tap danced on this tticework of eggshells and pulled it off.

  Another thing he emphasized to Little Lightning, was her safety on the field, under his careful ministrations. She would be paired with other girls almost as fast as she was; she would have support when she was that far behind enemy lines, people would be there to block and provide interference for her. She had gotten hurt essentially, for just being too goddamn fast for anyone else to have the slightest chance of getting up there anywhere near her.

  The coach's hard work and good luck paid off, and he nded his Lightning and got her to sign firm commitment papers. Showing both the parents and the star daughter the luxury townhouses, and how nice they were, was not a thing that hurt his cause. He had done his research and knew what kind of zip code they came from. The parents were not poor, but not really well off, low middle css but solid blue colr concerned parents. The only weird thing the coach reted to me? He had been courting Right, and heavily. Little Lightning, just kind of showed up one day, interested. When he recognized who she was, he naturally fell all over himself. When he was all smiles reporting his recruiting success? He joked casually, that stars were on sale this year. He got two for the price of one. Buy one, get one.

  The coach had every pyer dressed like… I don't even know what. The pyers were all but posed on their porches and stoops. Barbecues, pying board games, cssical music coming out of one townhouse… oh god, it was like living in a commercial that day. Soft drinks only, pyers dressed like they were attending a church social to meet their team mates for a BBQ. A girl dressed up like… a parent's wet dream out of the te 50s ran up and giggled and was excited to meet her, she had seen her big game and couldn't wait to meet her. The parents were given a tour of a "randomly" chosen townhouse to see the health food stocked, and no doubt the ck of alcohol.

  He nded her. It was the equivalent of a pro football coach nding the top draft pick. He got his picture in a college coach's national journal, and an article on how to pull these things off. He also got the double whammy of nding the other side's biggest star, Right. There was only one fw in his pn, which was otherwise perfect.

  Over half the team was jealous of her before they ever met her. The safety and luxury of the townhouse apartments only recently acquired for starting pyers? Meant that no matter what, he was committed to her starting as a freshman, and pying every game. She had to start from day one, to get the townhouse digs, as committed in writing to the parents. Jealousy and its twin sister Resentment were running things. Pyers that had worked up to start, were pissed. The other half of the team was ambivalent, with only a few pyers excited to get such a gem.

  Right was in pretty much the same boat, and also not terribly excited to be on the same team as her rival that had snatched her super bowl victory out of her grasp with minutes to go in the final game. "Little Lightning" got the lions share of what coverage was devoted to girls soccer's biggest series of the year. Her dramatic win and also her cringe inducing flight and crash nding, as well as the dramatic coverage of her seeing what she would never remember, was pyed up as bittersweet victory defeat tear jerking emotional coverage. She was just cute enough the cameras all picked her to focus on too.

  Right got the same shits as Light received from half the team. Almost the entire rest of the team could care less either way, and only a tiny sliver of pyers, like me, were excited to have this on our side. Starting my second year, the Coach discovered the problems. These problems were the kinds of problems a male coach of a girls team could not see to. Locker rooms and showers, off field hostility, downtown situations off campus.

  When I went to him with the list of problems, he was beside himself. He ended up asking me, would I shadow her. Would I live with her, practice with her, hold her hand in the locker room, and off the record… be her personal bodyguard and confidant. Right was in the same boat, and in the end me and the coach got her to understand that her and Light were both in the same pickle. Would she do a 180 on her rivalry with Light, and join up with her, and live with me too, so I could get them through this? Fear beat out rivalry by a slim nose on a photo finish. As quiet as I normally had been known to be around all the other girls, despite my size and strength… it was a shock when I started body smming tall strong girls who were starting uppercssmen.

  When I finally had no choice but to corner a co captain alone, and put a real job on her, that was about the end of the shit. Honestly the co captain should not only know better, she was supposed to be preventing exactly this sort of shit.

  We had almost made it to the finals my first year. This year? These two standouts were going to tip things in our favor. I even arranged for a couple of sympathetic football pyers, to carry her books for her. So as to have some muscle seeing her to and from csses, just in case. Expining the situation, and letting them know if there was a cat-fight developing, they were to grab the other girl and haul her off, and protect Light. Right got the same treatment as well.

  Just seeing these two pitch in and make friends, and team up to see what they could do together in practice was a real wow. Scrimmages were even more inspiring. With the first preseason games coming up, me and the coach and both girls thought we were over the worst. No such luck. Out of nowhere, Light was sullen, withdrawn, and refusing to practice or anything. I finally dragged the problem out of her, after a weekend long marathon of cajoling.

  An older girl, had been intimidating her gently, and went from "protecting" the poor new girl, to smoothly putting romantic moves on her. In the locker room, and now in the shower. This was going on right under my nose, literally. Me and the coach were frantic. Safety? If the parents got wind of this shit, our goose was cooked. The publicity alone would doom our program for years to come. No parents of a sweet girl soccer pyer would ever let them come here, no matter what. By the time the story got around, it would sound like older girls were raping the newcomers in the shower, like some sort of B-grade women's prison action story.

  I had thought the other big girl, was actually protecting her. I didn't realize she was trying some smooth version of "prison protection". A girl that had since graduated had thought she was going to try simir with me. Yet another had mistaken my size and strength for something it wasn't. Both had unfortunate slip and falls in the shower, that resulted in broken noses and split lips, and a shower room full of girls that had somehow, all had their backs to us.

  I handled that battle royale, right in front of the entire team watching.

  Little Lightning and Right on either wing, were an absolute sensation in our preseason games, we didn't lose a one. That was a first for all of us. For the first time in her life, Lightning had someone that could keep up with her, and she had someone up with her when she streaked up field and darted in a blur to get those spectacur behind enemy lines shots on goal out of nowhere. Not many can cover her, nor her rival turned ally. Right got the same thing, the first experience with someone keeping up with her, protecting her as well. Light's double foot abilities allowed her to switch positions and create huge mismatches, both their speed's allowed for man to man coverage thrown out the window, it was a serious monkey wrench tossed into zone defense teams, it became hell on earth trying to stop these zippy little highly skilled ball handlers and shooters.

  When we started winning as many real season games in a row as preseason games, the writing was on the wall. Already on the map as a solid program for years, that year was our coming out party. Everyone knew who these new girls were in our league and division. The enemy's only choice was to py hard, and start pying dirty. These girls were targeted for "roster adjustments". Which is where a pyer like me comes in, and a few others. I had to quit pying solid, clean ball and start being the bad guy. I rotated up and started leveling girls. I did to them, what had been done to poor Lightning. There's a two step rule. You have two steps after the pyer with ball control shoots, during which you can still run into them, because you are legally going for the ball. After two steps, you are hunting the pyer, and you are legally obligated to slide, dive, or otherwise avoid incidental contact.

  I abused the ever loving shit out of the two step rule, and turned into "The Hurricane". A big, strong, fast moving girl with just enough ball handling and skill to py up front in patches to give me access to taking out the intimidating fullbacks, and to level the other team's versions of Light and Right. I basically was forced to turn into the bad guy pro wrestler, in girls soccer terms. I sent girls flying over their own team mate's benches, and when their hometown booed me? I stood and waved, like I was enjoying appuse.

  This drew all the heat onto me. I sent the stars out of the game, or got legal hits and checks on them enough times, that they were looking over their shoulders instead of watching the ball. They were gun shy and rattled. The second half of these games saw me get battered, but I had to stay in and take it. Because if I wasn't there drawing the punishment, it all got directed at the two newest stars. Who could now spend the entire second half running rings around tired out back fielders, rattled and gun shy front lines, also tired, as well as low skilled goons that they zipped around like they weren't even there. Little Lightning can turn on a dime and spin and go off like a shot, and if you try to keep up with it, you fall on your ass and look like a drunken fool.

  Normally your biggest star is your starting center. That changed, she now had to support the wings instead of the other way around. It was more important to switch back and forth with Lightning, than to try to carry the ball up and dump off for shots like normal. I'm pretty sure this was where the already issue-den "number three" went over the tipping point. She continued to do her job, and was as good as ever on the field, and even in practice. Off the field? Constant acting out and buried resentment.

  Hell's bells, I was willing to py the bad guy, and take a beating every game or every other game, to do my part to get these extra wins. She had to py her best and adapt to the younger girls being the new stars, and she fell back into a support role. She got added to my "den mother" townhouse, so I could try to keep an eye on her, and keep her out of trouble, and prolong her serviceable life as long as I could for the coach.

  The life of a college athlete seemed enviable, but its an illusion. Its a shitload of hard work, hours, sweat pain blood and torture. All for no pay, while the school rakes in gazillions at a major school like this. Yeah, we get a free education and housing and in our case, food and luxury accommodations for starting pyers. Its even harder for a girl like me, taking a serious degree course, and all that work on top of it. You add in my den-mothering and my extra on field abuse? Its excruciating in every way. Physically, emotionally, and even sexually. Finding my boyfriend somewhat saved me. I don't have to choose between one niter-s and nothing any more. If I get exactly what I want in bed and in my retionship, I feel so spoiled its not even funny. If the guy doesn't live with me? There's no other way. My schedule is hell during the season.

  So few of us will ever go on to turn pro, and for us female stars? Its even less of a possibility. We don't get the exposure of the men's football and the men's basketball, soccer isn't a big thing in America. Practically no "pro" to graduate into. For me and mine? Its the Olympic team or bust. Little Lightning and Right, might luck into a sponsorship for some soccer products, some high school speaking tours, but that's maybe and not a career. Neither one has an academic career nor the ability to pursue one like me, so even less to look forward to. Four years of being the big star, then off into obscurity you go. Both fell into the sports star trap of quickies and the temporary fun and excitement it brings, saddled with the prototypical female traits now rampant in our society. Hyper promiscuity encouraged, "real" quality men frowned upon, bad boy chasing bullshit a given, and the newest blow to women's lives… you can put off marriage and a quality home life until whenever you feel like it. You can't. Its an ad campaign. It's as "real" as a beer commercial. Here, drink this cheap beer? Gorgeous women will flock to you and kick their legs in the air! The best men will flock to be at your side! Yeah, right.

  I'm pying the chess game for the long strategy. Solid degrees, using my sports stardom to aid, influence, and cajole my academic career further. God help me, it brought me a man that likes what I like, feels how I feel, and our goals and desires mesh perfect. I couldn't have been any luckier, I couldn't have worked harder, and all circumstances couldn't have coalesced any better.

  My heart's in my mouth now. There's Little Lightning, risking a broken neck or a destroyed shoulder, for nothing more than a few cps from onlookers. Its all she knows. Be the star, enjoy it, always go for it at any cost. Right is like me. Her former rival, now her closest friend and confidant, is worried she won't come down like a cat this time from another of these spectacur and gut wrenching shots. Each needs the other, their fates are intertwined now. Neither one is as effective without the other speedster to keep up with them, for those precious seconds until us mere mortals can get there, up in the thick of it, up near the big girls, the fullbacks. Goons out hunting them. If one takes an injury and is out for any length of time? The other will soon follow without their mate able to be there.

  Right bitches and fights, but it fades into a hug and a genuine concern for her safety, relief she's okay, and then runs around with her. Next time? Light will do it for Right when she wins the little game for the half dozen onlookers.

  The best they can look forward to after school is nding "girl-boss" jobs, with their lightweight degrees, and I pray one or both nd something soccer reted. Some assistant of some kind to some team, working for a sports equipment sales company, anything. They can then hold onto some shred of the meteor ride they are on now, another couple years until it burns out. Pray you nd on Terra Firma, girls

  "Oh, thank god. Her feet caught."

  My boyfriend doesn't know how close a call Light just had. He sees it as little different than any of her airborne acrobatics she put through herself in her little demonstration. I know best, or I should say worst. My limited tumbling and gymnastics, let me know she was "this close" to breaking her neck or a hip or a shoulder or a spine; she pulled it off like a cat twisting for its feet and made it. This time. Again.

  "That's dangerous. She can break her neck or spine. Don't you… boys throwing each other around fighting have to be careful?"

  "Oh. Yeah. We practice on mats."

  "You see any mats out here?"

  "I see what you mean. Tell her to be more cautious."

  "She won't. She's addicted to the cpping, the cheering. Big game? A few of us saying woo hoo? She'll go for it, every time. Its all she knows. Her… private life, we'll call it? Too simir."

  "Its another reason, you won't see me fighting like in that video. I just work out now, help show a few new guys the basics."

  "You have something else in your life. Your academic prowess. Its as important and even more important. She doesn't have that something else. When the four years are over? That's probably all she gets."

  "Question?"

  "Shoot."

  "What was the slight tension?"

  "Poor Lightning almost broke her neck…?"

  "No. I hate to sound like some… comic book character with special empath powers, or like I'm trying to imitate some sage monk, but… I picked up a slight tension. With little Bootsie."

  "I thought I had the psych major. You read minds now?"

  "I was a fighter, dear. I know something's coming, before it happens. After a string of situations? You notice, there was always something in the air, you feel it… before anything happened. Once you notice it? You realize, you feel it once in a while. Something doesn't go down every time you feel it? But every time something does go down, that feeling always came before. That feeling? Its the clouds before a storm. The storm doesn't always hit, but, with no clouds, no storm can hit."

  "Hmm. Your… mentor you miss. That's him talking, isn't it?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, mister crystal ball. What do you empath sense it is?"

  "I couldn't say. I felt it… it stabbed at me, when you said be nice to me. Then, I felt it when she said she didn't want to watch Lightning."

  "Wow. You really do have a crystal ball."