Darius the Great Deserves Better - Adib Khorram Page 0,22
So, thanks, Chip.”
I tried to squeeze his hand back, but since our arms were crossed, I did the wrong one and accidentally squeezed James’s hand instead.
I don’t think he noticed, though, or he just thought I was telling him it was his turn, because he told us how Coach Bentley had taken time to work on his back heel kick with him.
By the time we made it all the way around the circle, my jaw was clenching up from the chill. Thankfully Coach Bentley said, “Count off and let’s go.”
We divided up into Ones and Twos—me and the other Twos wearing bright blue vests to help tell us all apart—and took the field. Christian, our captain and goalie, led us through some warm-up drills until Coach blew her whistle again.
“Okay,” Christian said. “Bring it in.” He was a Black guy, a senior, with light brown skin and the most amazing cheekbones I had ever encountered. He always had a friendly smile, but it was the kind of smile that was more a shield than an invitation.
Not that I blamed him: People always think of Portland as this super liberal place, and it is, but it’s also super white.
As bad as it was being The Once and Future Target, I knew—I knew—that Christian had experienced worse.
Sometimes I wanted to talk to him about it. To let him know I had his back, the way Gabe and Jaden had mine.
But I didn’t know how to say that out loud.
“Gabe likes to play it aggressive,” Christian said, glancing across the field at the Ones. “Let’s be smart. We’ve got the better defenders. Keep it cool and look for your opening.”
We all nodded.
“Darius?”
“Yeah?”
“Cover me.”
“Okay.”
At least Christian knew I had his back on the field.
Maybe that was enough for now.
“One two three,” he said.
“Chargers!”
* * *
For Coach Bentley, scrimmages were a skill-building tool. They were supposed to be fun and educational.
But for Gabe and Christian, who’d been playing together since middle school, they were a contest of wills, a battle of celestial forces that could only end when one or the other was utterly annihilated.
As soon as the whistle blew, our teams clashed, galaxies colliding with Gabe’s and Christian’s egos as the supermassive black holes at their centers. I stayed back, Christian’s last line of defense, as Gabe broke past our midfielders, passing the ball back and forth with Chip, feinting to Zack and then surging forward.
Gabe tried to get between me and Bruno—one of our center backs—but Bruno stole the ball and passed it to Jaden.
The scrimmage went back and forth. Christian called out plays and encouragement and the occasional groan whenever we narrowly missed scoring on the Ones. He let in one goal from Gabe, but stopped way more than that.
We had better luck, though, with two goals on their goalie Diego. He was a sophomore who’d just moved up from JV, and everyone thought he was going to replace Christian as goalie next year.
Not as captain, though: Diego was the least inspiring speaker I’d ever met. Even when he said something nice, like during Circle, he always managed to sound like he was complaining.
I actually thought maybe Chip would make captain next year. Everyone liked him, and he was a great motivator.
Especially when he was trying to get past you to score: When Gabe passed him the ball, and I was the only one between him and Christian, I was extremely motivated to stop him.
He tried to get around me, but I stayed with him. Bruno had Gabe covered, so Chip couldn’t pass the ball back.
Chip grinned at me, faked left and then took off right, but I knew what he was going to do. I slipped in and hooked the ball away from him.
That was a mistake, though, because I hooked it right as he was going for a kick.
His eyes widened for a microsecond, like he knew what he was about to do to me.
And then his knee got me. Right between the legs.
I dropped to the grass, like every muscle in my body had reverted to a semi-gelatinous state.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe.
I was certain my testicles had just experienced a catastrophic hull breach.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry are you okay?” Chip knelt next to me, his hands fluttering from my back to my shoulder to my neck, like he thought he should be doing something but didn’t know what.