Page 26 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove

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Over the next few weeks, TJ can only watch with horror as her body hair grows relentlessly. Her legs haven’t been this hairy in years. Same with her arms. And her underarms. And her stomach. And—she could go on. The weather is still cold enough that she’s only wearing sweaters and jeans, so that part is still a secret. Her face and hands, not so much.

One morning, TJ’s wolfing down a piece of toast when her mother breezes by her and says, “You need a face threading, putt.” TJ nearly chokes, but her mother’s already out the door. She forces herself to breathe.Remember the resolution.

And then there’s soccer. Since it’s still off-season, TJ wears her soccer pants and a long-sleeve workout shirt to practices, and has no plans to change that. At least, until one practice in mid-February.

Before they begin, Coach announces they’re getting photos taken for the upcoming season. Everyone shuffles into formation for the team photo. Coach stops the photographer before he can raise his camera.

“TJ! Didn’t I tell you to wear your uniform?”

Heat rises to her face. “I am.” Her jerseyison. Just over a long-sleeve shirt. But she definitely sticks out; no one else is wearing extra layers.

“And what about your shorts?” Coach says. “And socks?Didn’t we get a bulk order of colour-coordinated team uniforms or did I hallucinate that?”

Chandani coughs in a way that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. A few of the others titter as well, following her lead. TJ’s blood boils. Things have been frosty between them ever since TJ snapped at her. But she isn’t exactly keen on apologizing, especially when Chandani does shit likethis.

But Coach is staring at her, waiting. Everyone is. This is so unfair. Scowling, TJ stalks to the empty changeroom and peels off her pants to reveal her shorts. They’re fitted, green, and stamped with Northridge’s logo, her last name and jersey number. They’re also... very short. The team had voted for this style because they were cute. Right now, though, TJ wishes they’d gone for the longer, shapeless ones.

She tugs down the hem and pulls her socks as high as they’ll go. Her knees and part of her thighs are still showing, the black hair glaringly long and obvious against her sun-deprived skin. This is nauseating. Maybe she can pretend she couldn’t find the shorts...

TJ shakes herself. No. She can’t change how she dresses because of the hair thing. That would be a strike against her resolution.

Which means—she glances down at her long sleeves in dismay—the shirt under her jersey has to go, too. Her heart sinks. How did she not notice this before? She’s been hiding her arms without realizing it, forweeks. Contradicting her own resolution.

That ends now. Before she can overthink it, she removes thelong-sleeved shirt, throws her jersey back on, and heads back to the turf.

“Finally,” Coach says when she returns. The whole team glances her way. TJ realizes right then that not wearing her shorts for weeks has backfired, because everyone got used to her in pants, and now that she’s stepped out in shorts again, well... they’re alllooking. It’s so silent. TJ wishes the ground would swallow her up.

The photographer is oblivious. “Middle row, please.”

TJ obliges. The girls move apart for her. She can feel the weight of their eyes. It’s aggravating. Do they notice or not?

But no one says a thing. The photographer takes several photos, and then it’s time for individual shots. TJ stands behind the others, waiting her turn. Alexa smiles at her when she passes for her photo. TJ takes a deep breath. Maybe she’s just imagining things.

When practice finally begins, she’s paired with Chandani on a dribbling drill. The two of them have been tasked with passing the ball back and forth between an intricate setup of cones and then getting it past the goalie. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem. Except each time she tries to pass to Chandani, TJ keeps misreading where she’s going, and then missing the ball Chandani sends back.

“Ladies!” Coach is losing it from the sidelines. “Talkto each other!”

Yeah, right. TJ doesn’t look at Chandani, just races over to where the ball has rolled and kicks it back at her, fully intending for her to nudge it into the goal with her cleat.

Chandani doesn’t get her foot on it in time, though, and the ball sails past her. TJ slows to a stop. She knows how fast Chandani can run, can react. But shechoseto go slower, and make it look like TJ miscalculated.

Oh, that pisses her off. TJ ignores Coach’s shouting and walks off the field. She tosses her water bottle on the ground after a few swallows, then kneels back in the artificial grass to re-lace her cleats.

A pair of pale, smooth legs enters TJ’s vision, blocking her sight of the passing drills. Piper.

“Usually I’d stay out of it, but this has been going on way too long. What happened with you and Chandani?”

TJ tugs on her shoelaces with unnecessary force. “Nothing.”

When TJ doesn’t say anything more, Piper sighs. “Well, please figure it out. I can’t stand being caught between you two.” She continues standing there, and after a moment, TJ realizes it’s because she’s staring at TJ’s exposed knee.

TJ sighs and pulls her soccer socks up higher. “I know my legs are hairy, all right?”

Piper grows pink. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

TJ wishes someone would. Over these last few weeks, she’s wished someone would say some truly insulting shit right to her face, because then at least she’d know what was being said about her. But the longer the silence lasts, the more she suspects that thingsarebeing said, just not where she can hear them.