Gimme Everything You Got - Iva-Marie Palmer Page 0,94

Kevin standing there with his team and when I got up from the water fountain was hovering over me. “Susan,” she asked with concern in her voice. “Is all that exertion affecting your menses?”

“. . . Are you asking about my period?” The only time Mrs. Ketchum had ever been concerned about my well-being was when she hoped aloud that I’d eaten before coming over as her way of letting me know the pantry was off-limits. “My menses are fine.”

“Oh,” she said, loudly. “I was worried they might be . . . stunted by all that exercise. You wouldn’t want to ruin your chances for children one day.” She said this at the same time her darling Kevin licked a garbage can.

“My monthly is fine, too,” Tina chimed in.

“I get my period like clockwork,” added Dawn.

“Aunt Flow loves her visits,” Joanie piped up.

“Actually, hasn’t she been visiting us all at the same time every month?” Wendy said, smiling at Mrs. Ketchum, who was now looking at us all like we were a coven of witches, and not the pretty kind who did spells by twitching their cute noses.

It was like our own version of “I am Spartacus.”

“I wish mine came like clockwork, but the Quinn women have always had issues,” Marie said. “Since soccer, though, my cramps are way better. And my moods. You should try it!”

Mrs. Ketchum’s features pinched into a disgusted expression as she hurried back to her precious Kevin. I’d probably lost that babysitting job, but I didn’t care.

Two days before the game, at the end of our last scrimmage, Bobby blew his whistle.

“You look great, and I’ve never seen—or been on—a team that has worked this hard. But we have a problem.”

Several groans and “whats?” burbled up from our huddle.

“You all like each other too much,” he said.

“What?” Franchesa said. “Isn’t that the point?”

Bobby nodded. “I’m glad you’re all getting along,” he said. “But think about the guys you’ll be playing. They don’t like you. I see it going one of two ways. They might come out with kid gloves and treat you like they have to go easy on you.”

“Because we’re girls?” Dawn Murphy said, using her shirt to rub sweat from her face.

“For better or worse, yeah,” Bobby said. “But I think it’s going to go the other way. I think you’ve upset them, and I think they’re going to be angry. They’re going to make this game hurt. Split up. Same teams you just had. And this time, I’m going to be on defense.”

We did; my side had the ball.

“If someone throws an elbow,” Bobby said, lining up with the other team, “you have to dodge, or take the blow somewhere it will hurt less. If one of these guys tries to tangle your feet up, you’re going to hit the dirt, and you have to roll to make sure you don’t sustain an injury. I’ve seen you all take knocks in practice, and I’ve seen Marie and our defenders dish it out. But St. Mark’s is going to be relentless. Let’s play!”

Bobby blew the whistle. I passed the ball to Tina, who kicked it to Dana in the open field. She had Franchesa on her and kicked it back to me. I started for the goal, keeping Tina and Dana in my peripherals. As my feet pounded the crunchy turf, I heard an unfamiliar cadence next to me. Marie’s steps were lighter, and Joanie’s run sounded like a ticking clock. Bobby’s footfalls were rhythmic, like a heartbeat. My own sped up as I could hear him breathing behind me. I picked up my pace. Bobby would appreciate me challenging him.

I was dribbling toward Wendy and the goal when he closed in on me, his leg cutting over mine for the ball. I charged forward hoping to flick the ball left to Tina. I lowered my chin as Bobby began to pivot, his elbow flying back, hard—right into my eye.

My back hit the dry grass with a thump, and I made a sound that was like a gulp in reverse. Bobby was on the ground next to me in an instant.

He pushed the rope of my ponytail out of my eye and gasped. “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” he said.

I couldn’t speak, with the wind still knocked out of me, but I moved my head a millimeter in each direction, as if to say, “Don’t worry about it.” But I was worried about it. I couldn’t talk, and my voice and breath felt