Page 10

Maeve is panting heavily when Coach Hoffman finally blows her whistle to signal the end of the training drills.

‘Take five,’ Coach instructs. ‘Kevin, collate this data with the players’ ongoing record, please.’

Maeve wipes the sweat from her brow. If there’s one thing intense exercise is good for, it’s helping to distract her from everything whirling around in her mind.

Now she’s stopped, she can’t help noticing Kira nearby, taking long gulps from her water bottle.

The two of them had been neck and neck in the drills.

She had tried to just concentrate on herself, but it’s hard when every sense in her body seems to be magnetically pulled to Kira.

As if feeling Maeve staring at her, Kira looks over at her too, their eyes meeting as they both breathe heavily.

Maeve turns away before Kira can see how tomato red she’s going again.

Maybe it’s natural, Maeve tries to convince herself, to be obsessed with her new teammate, her last team’s MVP.

Perhaps this overwhelming sensation, of being set alight every time she is anywhere near Kira, is just a warning, signalling she should be wary.

She is her rival after all – and that’s not just Maeve being defensive, even Kira herself said this morning that she would fight Maeve for the captaincy, and with her history with Coach Hoffman, she’s well-placed to get it.

Maeve is determined to keep her head in the game of these drills, especially after that intense speech from Coach and Jacob Astor about how they’re expecting a lot of moves in and out of the team. She needs to remain as Captain of the Tigresses.

Adriana has run up to her, her eyes wide and hair wild, like she has news. But Maeve knows it’s just going to be her asking her about what happened with Kira earlier, and she can’t be distracted like that right now.

‘Maeve! Maeve!’

‘Not now, Addy,’ Maeve hisses, feeling terrified that nearby Kira will overhear Adriana grill her for gossip. ‘We need to concentrate.’

‘No, Maeve, you don’t understand.’ Adriana’s voice is high-pitched. ‘I need to talk to you. Urgently.’

‘After training,’ snaps Maeve, her muscles tense. ‘Can you please try to be professional?’

Maeve is so tense from Coach’s announcements, and the gruelling training, that it comes out way harsher than Maeve intends, and she regrets it immediately.

Adriana blinks, almost tearful, like Maeve’s slapped her.

‘Addy, I’m sorry–’ Maeve starts, but Adriana just shakes her head rapidly and then Coach is blowing the whistle to begin again.

Maeve feels a ball of guilt and worry in her stomach, but then Coach is speaking.

‘Okay players, I want to see you all in a friendly. Eleven v eleven.’

Even the word ‘friendly’ doesn’t sound quite right in Coach Hoffman’s mouth. Maeve stands up rigidly. Exercises and drills are never going to fully show a player in action. This is the real test. She needs to put all distractions from Kira and Adriana out of her mind.

‘I want to see how you’ll perform in a game,’ says Coach. ‘But just because it’s a “friendly”, doesn’t mean I want to see players being passive on this pitch. You’re Tigresses! Live up to your name and show me how fierce you are.’

Kira grins, giving Coach a salute. Maeve tries to catch Adriana’s eye, but she’s still looking off out at the technical box. God, her friend really needs to learn to focus, Maeve’s worried about her.

She remembers Adriana’s well-worn advice not to get too in her head about things, but she can feel that the pressure is getting to her.

Maeve is not an aggressive player. In fact, she prides herself on having never received a red card in her whole professional career, which is unusual for a centre-back.

Her disciplinary record is good. Maeve’s well-known for her analytical, rock-solid defending and showing the opposition just enough respect to stay calm in the heat of a match, and she has excellent timing in her tackling, so she’s never seen a red card for a late or reckless challenge.

‘I’m going to read out who I want on each side. First team, wear bibs.’

Maeve stands there overthinking who is being assigned to each side.

It feels like in a talent show, when the auditionees who are going to be called up to the next round are asked to step forwards.

Are the players she’s calling out in the top or bottom half of the training skills warm-up?

Or is the coach trying to get a more even split of ability to make it a tougher test? More mind games from Coach.

‘Kira, centre forward of course.’ She throws her the last fluorescent bib.

‘Aye aye Captain,’ says Kira, obviously the only person to have answered back playfully.

‘Murphy,’ Hoffman calls. ‘Home team, centre-back.’

Kira and Maeve’s eyes meet across the huddle. That means they’ll be on opposing teams and Maeve will be marking Kira. Kira grins a slow, wolfish grin at her. Maeve shudders. She tries to convince herself it’s just anticipation of the game.

The players quickly huddle in their teams, and Maeve tries to breathe.

She instinctively notes the position of Adriana’s bouncing red curls tied up in a generous bun on the top of her head, when they get into formation ready for the whistle.

Adriana is on the bib team alongside Kira, slotting into her preferred central midfield position, meaning she’s an enemy too.

It feels rather too apt for how paranoid Maeve is feeling right now.

‘It’s just a game,’ she thinks to herself, though this phrase has never worked for her. ‘It’s just a game, where my job and lifelong dreams are on the line.’

Rebecca and Zuri call the coin toss, and the bibs get to kick off.

Coach puts the whistle in her mouth ready to signal the start of the game.

Maeve tries to clear her mind. But Kira winks at her from the centre-circle. Maeve’s blood starts to boil.

Then the whistle sounds, and there isn’t time to think.

Adriana pings a perfectly weighted pass, and Kira is off like a bullet charging towards the ball and Maeve.

Her body takes over, reacting as it’s been trained to do, mirroring and monitoring Kira’s movements, staying stuck to her, trying to pre-empt and get in the way of every move she makes so she can’t turn and get a shot away.

They’re a match.

Maeve notes with satisfaction that Kira is surprised at being unable to escape her defenses, with Maeve’s marking doing the trick and keeping Kira quiet so far. Kira calls for the ball, which flies over from Rebecca, but it’s Maeve’s foot which sends it flying back to Liv, getting to it first.

‘Urgh!’ shouts Kira in unabashed frustration.

‘Better luck next time,’ says Maeve.

Kira’s body tightens like a spring, Maeve’s success fuelling her to raise her game. But Maeve’s clearance has resulted in her team on the counter attack towards their winger Zuri, who dribbles up, managing to get past Rebecca and shoots – but it sails over the crossbar.

Maeve watches Adriana whoop loudly too, clapping her teammates to get them going.

It’s amazing how quickly this friendly has become tribal – Maeve really does feel like the bibs are her enemies.

Normally Maeve and Adriana catch eyes after a goal is scored or missed, out of habit, but today, Adriana’s eyes are going over in the opposite direction.

To where? The technical area again? What is she playing at?

And does she really have to let down her curls right now, in a move Maeve first noticed her doing in mixed matches when they were teenagers, Adriana knowing her flaming hair would attract the eyes of men in the stands?

Maeve doesn’t have a chance to read into Adriana’s behaviour for much longer though, because Elisa takes her goal kick, and the ball is flying up the pitch and played in towards Kira.

‘What the–’

‘Fu–’

Kira is relentless. Kira darts, feints, sprints and springs. But Maeve is keeping up, staying with her and marking her player. She’s in her flow, rock-solid against Kira’s constant attempts, their bodies jostling as she puts another well-timed tackle in to clear it this time.

But even a rock can get worn down if it’s constantly chipped away at. The more frustrated Kira gets at Maeve’s defense, the more aggressive she becomes to try and assert herself.

With the bibs on another attack, the ball is played in from Milo – Kira pauses, and then barges hard past her, her ankle kicking just a breath away from being a foul.

‘Fuck!’ shouts Maeve.

But it’s too late. Kira has broken free and is through on goal. Kira’s sent the ball flying towards Charlie in goal – and scored.

The bib team whoop with cheers, Milo, Rebecca and Adriana running over to clap her on the back.

Kira and Adriana high five, Adriana shouting loudly.

To Maeve’s jealous eyes, Adriana really does seem particularly keen to be seen having a good time in this match.

Is she really that obsessed with befriending Kira and could she really ditch her so soon after all these years of friendship?

Maeve kicks the air.

Kira strolls up to Maeve, her face inches away from hers. For a crazy moment, Maeve thinks Kira might kiss her.

‘Ha! You really can’t handle an aggressive player, can you, Murphy? You know, some might say you’re too much of a good girl.’

Maeve’s cheeks burn, and her breathing hitches.

Is Kira trying intentionally to distract her with… flirty trash talking? Or is Maeve completely misreading? Regardless, she needs to refocus. She faces up towards the pitch, but Kira just will not leave her alone.

‘Is this your attempt at having sharp claws, Murphy? It’s more like you’re worried to break a nail.’

Despite having been sprinting about the pitch for a good twenty minutes now, Kira seems completely composed, as she gets right up in Maeve’s face after the restart.

Her body is pressed up against hers. Maeve glares furiously back, breathing heavily, her muscles rigid and primed for fight or flight.

Maeve knows that Kira is goading her. But knowing something doesn’t stop it from working.

‘I thought you wanted to stay Captain of the Tigresses ? It’s going to be so easy to take it from you when you’re playing like this.’

Maeve sees red. It’s all too much. A deadly combination of the adrenaline of the game, their sweaty bodies so pressed against each other.

Maeve lashes out, shoving Kira.

It all happens so fast. One second, Kira is up in her face, and the next, Kira’s falling backwards, having lost her balance from being caught off-guard. She reaches out for Maeve’s shirt, determined to bring her down with her.

‘Ouch, Jesu–’

‘Fuck!’

They end up on the floor. Maeve lands hard, her wrists painfully crashing down to stop her, her shins getting jabbed by Kira’s studs. And somehow, there they are – Maeve on top of Kira.

This turn of events seems to surprise even Kira, who blinks rapidly up at her, for once lost for words.

But then, as their panting ceases and they’re still for a moment, Kira whispers, ‘Huh, I wasn’t imagining it this way round.’

Maeve’s face flushes scarlet.

And she’s trying to struggle up, she hears a sharp, furious double blow of the referee’s whistle.

‘Murphy!’ comes the call from Coach. ‘Tackling when game wasn’t in play! Go and cool off!’

‘But– But Coach –’

‘You do not answer back to the referee, Murphy,’ Hoffman says, her voice low and sharp. ‘Off the pitch – now.’

Maeve’s vision blurs. She can’t believe it.

The pain in her wrist from the way she landed combined with the humiliation, the shock, the anger, the shame, brings tears to her eyes and a heavy lump in her throat.

She feels like she’s going to cry, or scream, or faint.

But none of those responses would be at all appropriate.

She can’t bear the thought of losing control again, not in front of Coach, the team, – or worse, in front of Kira.

Maeve manages to bring together all twenty-two years of controlling and repressing her emotions, to walk off the pitch.

She feels like a child sent to have their tantrum on the naughty step. A puppy kicked for not executing the correct trick. She feels like… a complete failure.

But Coach Hoffman just blows her whistle, and the game continues without her as she walks down the tunnel.

She is drawn with both hatred and something teetering on obsession to watch Kira.

She’s like a firework on the pitch, with seemingly endless energy despite all the runs she makes, ruthlessly going for that goal time and again, no matter how improbable it is to get a shot away.

Maeve watches Charlie, who has taken her place marking Kira.

She watches as Charlie tries to defend against Kira, Kira backing into her so that their bodies jostle together, shoulder to shoulder.

Kira easily overpowers her and darts away, but each time Maeve watched Kira tackle someone else it was like she could feel her own body being touched, like some kind of phantom limb.

Maeve is left feeling like she’s on fire with jealousy.

Some crazy part of her thinks, ‘That should be me , it should be me defending against Kira, I’m the only one who can match her.

’ But she shouldn’t be thinking like that, they’re supposed to be on the same team.

She messed up. Maeve never messes up. So she isn’t used to having to deal with her mistakes, and it feels way, way too big right now to think she could ever get over it. She’s never going to be renamed Captain now, she feels like she’s completely blown it. Her mum is going to be so disappointed.

The tears start to fall down Maeve’s cheeks and she hurries back to the dressing room.

She tries desperately to stop it, but her body doesn’t seem to be obeying her command right now, and this terrifies her.

She can’t be seen like this. Praying that no one is watching her, Maeve heads as fast as she can to the second-floor locker room that no one uses.

Then she shuts the toilet door behind her, and breaks down.