Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Vi, you forgot your water bottle!” Powder shouted, running after Vi down the school’s hallway, backpack swinging wildly, hanging off one of her shoulders. Vi turned, a small smile on her face.

“What would I do without you, Pow?” She asked, ruffling the younger girl's hair.

“Probably end up on the side of the road somewhere.” The younger girl said, ducking away from Vi’s hand and taking a few steps back. “You’re gonna kick ass at those tryouts, aren’t you?” Powder asked, handing Vi the water bottle. “I hear they’re pretty picky when it comes to choosing players.”

“Well someone’s gotta teach these snobby rich kids how to play, right?” Vi let out a strained laugh, trying to hide the fact that her heart was beating at twice its normal speed. Truth was, Vi was nervous. Sure, she knew the game, and she was damn good at it. She had been captain of The Lane’s high school soccer team for three years before she transferred, leading them to winning their district championship three years in a row. She would’ve been named MVP senior year if she hadn’t transferred prior to the season starting. But soccer was way different top-side.

Powder had gotten a scholarship for all four years of high school because of some invention she’d created in middle school. It had started off as a silly little idea she had come up with when she was bored in class. Zaun was already known for their terrible air quality, so one day in class, Powder scribbled out this idea of switching the wheels on Ekko’s skateboard into mini fans, which would filter out the bad air. It wasn’t a solution to the overall problem, but would at least keep the air around whoever was riding the board a bit cleaner temporarily. Vi didn’t know much about how it worked, but of course she helped Powder buy the materials for small LED lights she’d added inside; it was her little flair to the project.

It hadn’t been anything grand, but with the resources and money she had, it had been pretty impressive. Powder had submitted it to a contest, and won, earning a scholarship to the best school in Piltover, as long as she was a part of the engineering program. The professors were hoping to be able to use Powder’s invention to a wider scale, adding it to larger vehicles like cars, motorcycles, and buses.

Vi was fine with having to stay in Zaun for her last year of school, but it was Powder's first year of high school, and the younger girl didn’t want to have to start in a new school district without her older sister. Somehow, Powder and Vander had convinced the academy to allow Vi a one-year scholarship there for her senior year so that she could attend school with Powder. Leaving her friends and team from Zaun was a little tough, but Vi would do anything for her little sister.

Vi’s first three days at Piltover Academy were tough. And she knew they would be. She looked different, acted different, and just overall was different from the people there. She didn’t have the money for the fancy laptops the rest of the students had, so she had to borrow one from the school’s library. She was given free school supplies like a pencil bag, notebooks, a binder, a folder, and some pencils, but they were cheap and flimsy, and she’d already ripped the pencil bag.

Dirty looks were common, and she pretended she didn’t hear the comments about her weird haircut or the snide remarks people would whisper to their friends when she’d accidentally bump into someone in the halls.

If you asked her who was in her classes, she honestly wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“ ‘Kay, I gotta go Pow.” Vi said, pulling Powder in for a quick hug. She held on for a few seconds extra, hoping that hugging her sister would calm her nerves a bit.

“Good luck!” Powder said, slinging her back over her other shoulder and turning back down the way she came.

Vi turned, and walked down the hallway, to the girls locker room. She took a deep breath, before pushing the door open. It was a large space, about the size of a classroom, high-ceilinged, with lockers lined up in rows. Banners and posters for past and upcoming sporting events were scattered around the walls. Concrete benches placed in front of the smaller lockers, and in the corner on the right were showers, along with four bathroom stalls and three sinks. It smelled like someone tried to cover the stench of chlorine and gym shoes with expensive perfumes. Vi suppressed a cough.

Someone was playing music from a speaker, but it was barely intelligible over the noise of girls getting ready, and running around talking to their friends. Vi stepped around a huddle of freshmen crowded by the door, their expressions similar to the look on Vi’s face. It was a bit overwhelming. She gripped the straps on her backpack slightly harder. She lifted her chin, trying to appear more composed than she really was, and walked past a group of girls, who all looked at her with narrow-eyed glares that lasted a few seconds too long for Vi’s comfort.

She walked to the back of the locker room, where there weren’t many people, and chose a random vacant locker in the corner, surrounded by ‘No Phone’ posters. She placed her bag down on the bench closest to her, and pulled out a pair of shorts, an old blank t-shirt whose logo had faded so badly she couldn’t tell what brand it was, and a pair of soccer socks, which were slightly too small for her. She put them all on quickly, a bit self-conscious of her worn down equipment.

She felt out of place, and it wasn’t helpful when the same group of girls walked by, ponytails bouncing behind them, snickering among themselves, and whispering "That's what she’s wearing?” Vi turned away, back to her bag, trying to ignore their comments. It was the first day of tryouts, and she wasn’t going to let them get to her. And besides, she was here to prove her skills in soccer, not compete in a fashion show.

She grabbed her shinguards, and slid them on, before grabbing her cleats. They were pretty new, she’d worn them a few times towards the end of summer when she, Mylo, Claggor, Ekko, and sometimes Powder, played outside on the nice days. She cherished the cleats more than anything. She had saved up money from a summer job she’d worked in July (she’d worked in an ice cream truck, and even though it was supposed to be freezing, she was sweating buckets the entire time, and had to deal with kids crying when they were out of SpongeBob popsicles).

She’d seen them in an ad on tv, and immediately wanted them. They were white, and by the heel had red and orange stripes that were shaped like flames. The studs were white and orange, and as soon as she saw them she knew they should be hers. The sides and bottoms were slightly stained green, and had a bit of dirt stuck between the studs. She thought it added personality. She didn’t want to wear the studs down, so she put on some slides and carried her cleats in one hand and her water bottle in the other.

Someone had grabbed the speaker and was leading a group of girls out the exit doors of the locker room, so Vi followed them out towards the field. She stuck out among the group with her bright, pink-dyed hair. She took a glance in a mirror on her way out, and fixed her nervous expression into something somewhat more relaxed.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” said a short girl with a long brown ponytail in front of Vi to a few more girls around her. “Apparently they had to take her in an ambulance and everything.”

“Did you hear that the game was livestreamed, and on the video you could see the bone sticking out?” Another girl piped in, causing more girls to join in on the conversation, more comments about some rando’s graphic injury.

“I heard that her parents wanted to press charges, it was that nasty of a tackle.” Vi glanced up at that. How bad had this girl been hurt? She was definitely curious about who they were talking about, but she didn’t get the chance to ask because they’d arrived at the field, and the girls had split off to put on their cleats and get into small juggle circles. There was a coach handing out pennies with numbers, and writing names down on a clipboard.

Vi took a second to look around the field. She’d seen it before, when she and Powder had gotten a tour on their first day. It was way different than the one they had in Zaun. Instead of the worn down track like the one in Zaun, this track looked brand-new, its bright reddish-orange color practically glowed in the sun. She sat down on the sidelines, by the coaches bag and put on her shoes. And unlike her field at home, which had patchy grass and faded lines, this field had turf, and lines for football and soccer in white and yellow. The weird, rubber smell from the turf in the heat filled the air. She glanced around, noticing small yellow, green, orange, and red cones scattered across for drills.

Standing up, she looked around. She could tell who the freshmen were, bunched off in their own group, giggling as the ball they were juggling flew around wildly. A few other players were in rondo groups, and some girls were standing by the equipment shed, talking in hushed voices. Vi didn’t want to figure out who to warm up with quite yet, so she went over to sign in with the coach. She stood in line as the coach wrote down names on the clipboard and handed each player a jersey that was either white, gold, or blue.

Once she reached the front of the line, the coach peeked up from the clipboard and offered her a small smile. A lanyard with a card around her neck said “Grayson.”

“Name?” She asked, her voice gravelly and deep.

“Violet–err Vi. Vi Lanes. ” Vi responded, not sure if she should say her nickname or her full name. Grayson gave her a confused smirk.

“Grade?”

“Twelfth.”

“And your position?” Grayson asked, checking boxes off with a little blue pen.

“The six. Or the eight. Whichever one needs me.” Vi said, peeking over the clipboard.

“Alright, Vi. You’ll be wearing number four in blue.” The coach said, grabbing a penny from the pile of blues and tossing it to Vi. She caught it and gave a small nod as a thanks. The line behind her still had quite a few people, so she quickly got out of the way and put the penny on. The penny was loose, hung low on her neck, and wasn’t flattering at all, but she didn’t mind because she didn’t have anyone to impress.

Glancing around, Vi considered joining a group. But as she looked around, she noticed everyone, even the younger students, had their own cliques. She leaned down to retie her shoe, which was already double-knotted and didn’t actually need to be tied again. What was she doing? She’d always been confident, this wasn’t like her. A group of girls were taking shots on goal laughing as one of them accidentally leaned too far back and sent the ball flying through the field goal. Vi looked over at them.

She wondered if that’s how she looked with her teammates in Zaun, laughing and comfortable.

She hid it well, but she was quite sad to leave her friends, especially for her last year of high school. Of course, she’d still be able to see them, since most of them lived close to her, but not going to their school was definitely something she would need time to adjust to.

Slowly, the line by the coach started to dwindle. Looking around, Vi realized there were a lot of girls trying out. A lot more than the usual amount that tried out at her school in Zaun. There were at least fifty-something girls here, and there were way too many for just the two teams the school had.

Once the line was gone and Coach Grayson finished writing on her clipboard. Most of the girls were ready and on the field, and some, who looked like freshmen, were standing awkwardly, trying to find a place to belong, or speaking to the few friends they still had from their middle schools.

“Alright girls, huddle up!” Grayson had walked out onto the sideline by the equipment and stood with her arms crossed, clipboard still in hand. Girls dropped the balls they were playing with, some kicking a few into the goal one last time, and jogged over to form a half-circle around the coach. Vi jogged along with the others, and stood with a few of the girls she guessed were juniors and seniors.

“Welcome to the first day of tryouts, hopefully the majority of you get the main idea of how this is going to work, and if not, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” Grayson said once all the girls were huddled. Another coach walked over, a tall man, wearing academy merch. He waved sheepishly, not wanting to interrupt Grayson's talk.

“This is assistant and JV coach Talis,” Grayson said, gesturing briefly at the other coach. Talis waved again, an awkward smile on his face. “He was on the boy’s soccer team when he was a student here, and now he’s the woodworking teacher here at the Academy. ” Coach Grayson added, handing Talis her clipboard.

Grayson took a bit to explain what the tryout day would look like, mainly skillwork and a few passing lines. “So we can see how you look as an individual player.” Coach Grayson glanced around to make sure the girls were listening before continuing. “If there’s a day to really show off how good you are, it would be today. So, impress me.” Some girls nodded eagerly, trying to get on Grayson's good side.

“Where’s Kiramman?” A girl, in the front of the circle asked, leaning forward, eyes wide and curious. More girls started asking questions, “Will she be able to play this season? Is she really hurt that bad?” The coach couldn’t keep up. She held up her hands, waving them to stop the girls from talking. Once they quieted down she took a breath.

“I know you miss your captain, but you don’t need to worry about her right now. Just focus on yourselves and the tryout.”

Some girls whispered a few last times.

“Alright. Let’s get started, yeah?”

When the girls were dismissed to warm up, returning players, clearly comfortable with the warmups and the other players, fell into line fast, leading a few separate lines through dynamic stretches and jogs. She joined in quickly, somewhere in the middle of the line. A few gossiping in line, naming people Vi had never heard of. She tuned it out and focused on how her cleats felt against the turf.

Once warmups were done, and Vi felt loose and ready to play, Grayson had each girl grab a ball, some had to share, and some brought their own, and work on dribbling and touches.

“I don’t care about how fast you can move the ball, I want to see precision and accuracy. It’s not a race.” Grayson called. Vi took some touches, quick, moving her foot to hit the ball with the inside and outside, switching it from the inside of her left foot to the outside of her right, and right back again the other way. Some other girls' ball rolled away and knocked Vi’s just as she’d gotten her rhythm.

“Oops.” The girl said giggling, her blonde hair in two braids, with a matching headband to the other standing behind her. Vi jogged and got her ball again.

Grayson blew her whistle and announced that the next drill was going to be 1v1s. Vi groaned internally.

There were three small fields made with cones, each with a mini goal at each end. Vi followed a few others and got in line on the side of one of the mini goals, as a few other girls did the same at the other end of the small field. Talis had gathered up most of the balls that were strewn across the field while the girls were warming up, and set them by the mini goals.

The girl in the front of the line, tall and lanky, took a ball, and passed it firmly on the ground to the other side. She ran up quickly, angled slightly to the side, knees bent, shuffling in order to defend the other girl from getting past her. The girl who had received the ball, short but strong looking, did a move, a step-over, trying to throw the taller girl off. It didn’t work as she had hoped and the taller defender stuck a foot out and took the ball, switching it to her other foot, and shooting. The ball hit the back of the mini goal hard, and rolled back out slowly. The other girls in Vi’s line cheered.

“Nice finish, Winnie!” A girl shouted.

Vi watched as people attacked and defended, fast- paced, cheers and shouts here and there, along with some giggles. When it was Vi’s turn, her pass to the other side was a bit bouncy, she was still getting used to how the ball rolled so smoothly on the turf.

Don’t overthink it, Vi. Just defend.

The girl she’d passed it to controlled it, rolling it around at her feet almost tauntingly as Vi approached. Vi could have believed there was a smirk on the girl's face, but she wasn’t going to look up and check. The girl took a few touches forward with the outside of her foot, slowly, knees bent, eyes on Vi.

Vi shuffled forward, and when the girl made her first move, a quick fake, dropping her shoulder and lunging to the right, Vi didn’t fall for it. She was trained to keep her eyes on the ball, not the other person’s shoulders or hips.

Vi stuck a foot out, trying to maneuver herself between the other girl and the ball, and held up an arm to shield it. But the other girl, just as fast, pulled the ball back, stopped it in place, and when Vi reached to get it, pushed it past Vi, with a burst of speed. She was quicker than Vi expected.

Recovering quickly, Vi shuffled back, trying to recover the lost steps, but it was too late and the ball was already in the back of the mini goals net. Vi let out a huff as the other girl smiled at her own line as she jogged back, bumping Vi with her shoulder as she passed.

“Nice try.” The girl sneered in a mock-sympathetic tone.

What a bitch.

Vi got back in line, watching the other girls take their turns trying to get past defenders. She studied how the other girls played, a few with similar styles. Some, she could tell, were most likely attackers, mainly reliant on speed and quick touches. And then there were some who were clearly more comfortable defending, shuffling back, never staying flat-footed, and careful to watch the ball.

Once Vi reached the front of the line again, a ball at her foot while she waited for the girls who were currently playing to finish, she made eye contact with the girl across from her. The same girl she’d gone up against before. The other girl smirked, cocky. Vi noted that she was probably a varsity player, a junior or a senior. Her ponytail was tight, and she had a blue headband, and she definitely meant business. Vi wasn’t going to let this girl get to her.

Her pass this time was better, focusing on hitting the middle of the ball in order to keep it from bouncing. It skidded across the turf with a satisfying noise.

“Come on, Isa!” Someone shouted at the girl Vi was against. Vi scoffed as she ran up again, like before. The other girl was still rolling the ball at her feet lazily. Vi could feel eyes on her, and out of the corner of her eye she could see coach Grayson standing off to the side, watching the 1v1.

This time, Vi didn’t reach for the ball sloppily, she’d learned her lesson the last time. She knew Isa was fast, so she waited for her to make a move. Sure enough, when Isa saw that Vi wasn’t going to make a move for the ball, she took a larger touch, lunged her shoulders right, and cut sharply to the left. Vi predicted it, ignoring the direction Isa’s shoulders moved, and got the ball out from under her feet.

Isa recovered quickly, stepping back in front of Vi, flat-footed. Vi took this opportunity to fake a shot, drawing her leg back as Isa lunged to try and block the shot. Vi, pulled the ball back and around her planted foot with her right, and then shot with her left.

The ball hit the small goal net with a nice whoosh.

A few from her line cheered, and some heads turned. Grayson gave Vi an approving smile and a nod, before writing something on her clipboard. Isa scowled. Vi jogged back to her line.

“Nice try.” She whispered to Isa as she passed her.

The rest of the tryout went by in a blur, turf bouncing off the field, balls flying during shooting drills. She made sure her passes were precise, and her shots accurate. Alternating between her right and left feet with ease, she made more than a few people ask what her name was.

In some drills, some of the girls, who seemed to be Isa’s friends, made it clear that they were deliberately not going to pass to Vi. Vi rolled her eyes when one of them, who she learned was named Addi (short for Adeleine), ignored Vi’s calls for the ball, and instead passed it the complete other direction, to a girl with at least three defenders on her.

By the end of the tryout, Vi felt energized, like she could keep playing, as if the turf was sending electricity through her cleats. Coach Grayson called for another huddle as some girls sat, taking off their shinguards and pulling their socks down to their ankles.

“Great first day of tryouts, ladies. I can assure you that Talis and I are impressed with the amount of talent we saw today from each of you.”

Vi stood, fidgeting with a ball at her feet. She wiped a bit of sweat from her brow and took a sip from her water bottle. She could feel the Isa girl’s glare from across the circle, but didn’t give her the satisfaction of eye contact. The girls around Isa snickered.

“Make sure you go home, stretch and rest what you need, and take care of any bumps and bruises you got today, in order to be ready for the next two days of tryouts.” Grayson said, before dismissing the girls. Talis offered small “good jobs” and fist bumps.

Walking off the field, Grayson nodded at Vi again.

“Not bad, Lanes.”

When Vi got back home that night, Powder practically jumped into her arms when she walked through the front door.

“Vi! How were tryouts?” She asked, as Vi let her bag drop to the floor by the door.

“It was fun, Pow.” Vi answered, wincing when Powder accidentally poked her in a spot that she’d taken a nasty elbow to the ribs in at the tryout. “The coach is pretty cool, and the girls are talented. They’re kind of weird though. Like, all judgey and stuff.” Vi said as she walked into the kitchen, Powder following behind.

She grabbed some leftover spaghetti from the fridge and put some on a plate, and then stuck it in the microwave.

“Make any friends?” Powder asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. Vi scoffed.

“No. But maybe an enemy.” She laughed, taking the spaghetti out of the microwave as the timer went off. “Some girl and her friends were being…less than friendly.”

“They’re probably jealous.” Powder offered, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of Vi’s spaghetti, yelping when it burnt her tongue.

Vi chuckled at that. The feeling from before, the one where she felt like she would never fit in, and that there were constantly eyes on her, disappeared for a bit. Because, despite the small taunts, the first day of tryouts wasn’t all that bad. Maybe she’d be alright after all.

Panting, Vi dribbled past a defender, passing it to her teammate in the middle, and running around behind her.

“Yeah, yeah! Overlap, here!” She called, raising a hand to where she wanted her teammate to play the ball through. The girl played the ball between two defenders, as Vi ran on to it. Without needing to take a shot, she hit the ball with her laces, foot pointed down, leaning forward slightly. The ball was launched hard, right between the goalkeeper's legs.

“Nice shot, Vi!” Someone called, and Vi high-fived her teammates' hands. 1v1s made her slightly nervous, but today, Grayson had said, was mainly about teamwork and communication. Small-sided games and whatnot. That, she could handle well.

The second day of tryouts had passed pretty smoothly, with barely any interactions with Isa and her “squad”, besides a few glares in the locker room. She felt less anxious than she had yesterday, and there were less people staring at her, and the weight on her shoulders lifted slightly.

More people were looking at her to pass to, and Vi had befriended a junior named Marcelline, who was the Varsity goalkeeper. Mars, for short, was a bit…odd. Her hair was short, and seemed to be dyed at least four different colors, all faded now. She didn’t speak much to anyone, but had a loud voice when it came to commanding the other players while on the field. She’d approached Vi with a: “Is your hair naturally that color?” And Vi just laughed, explaining that no, she just dyed it a lot.

Mars asked what school Vi used to go to. Vi told her she was from Zaun, , and the other girl nodded politely, not making a face or a remark like most others did.

“My cousin lived in Zaun,” Mars told Vi during a water break. “He went missing a few years ago, but he sent me an email months after saying he’d gotten on a cruise ship and was going to go study different types of parrots somewhere tropical.” She’d said in a quiet voice, eyes wide. Vi just nodded and went along with it until Mars walked away, tightening her gloves, mumbling something about colorful birds.

By the end of the second tryout, Vi could feel the little rubber turf balls that had somehow gotten inside her socks. During the huddle, Grayson complimented, once again, the amount of talent that had shown up at this year's tryout, and that hopefully, by the end of the third tryout, they’d have two solid teams for this school season.

The locker room on the third day was quieter. A bit tense. There wasn’t music playing, and more people were huddled with their friends, discussing what teams they thought each person would be on. Vi changed, got her gear on, and stepped over to the sinks to fix her hair in the mirror. She needed a haircut soon. Her hair was too short to put in a ponytail, but long enough that it kept falling in her eyes.

“Nervous?” Someone asked from behind her as they walked out of the bathroom stalls. Isa. Vi scoffed, and held back an eye roll.

“No, I’m not nervous.” Vi replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, only for it to stubbornly fall back out in front of her face again.

Isa let out a little giggle. “Hm. I guess you don’t need to be nervous if you know you’re going to be on JV. Best not to get your hopes up.” She said, as her little group of friends came up behind her. “We’ll see you on the field, yeah?” Isa asked, her tone a bit too polite. Vi ignored her, and tuned out the giggles that followed all the way out the door.

Warm ups were nice, it felt good to stretch her muscles that were sore from the previous two days. Like the second day, they did a few small-sided scrimmage drills. Vi worked well with her teammates, and made sure to glance over at Grayson every now and then to see if she was looking.

During one of the shooting drills, Vi had accidentally shot Mars in the face, and when she ran over to make sure she was alright, Mars held up two thumbs up, giggling as a red mark formed on her cheek.

With forty-five minutes left of the tryout Grayson and Talis separated all the girls into three different teams for large field scrimmage, switching around pennies based on the positions everyone played, ensuring each team had an equal amount of each position. Vi’s new penny color was gold.

Grayson told them they were going to be playing a three-diamond-three, and Vi was the bottom of the diamond. A few people gave her an odd glance. Some even sympathetic. She raised a brow at the looks. She’d always played this position, did they think she couldn’t handle it?

Their team sat on the side for the first scrimmage, watching the blue and white teams play each other, ending in a draw of 1-1 when the whistle blew at fifteen minutes. In the second game, her team played against the white pennies, which Vi noted was mainly freshman. The gold team won 3-0 in fifteen minutes.

Ignoring the looks when Cait got into her position, her team got onto their half and got into their formation. The other team, in white pennies, Grayson blew her whistle and the other team passed the ball back to their midfield. Pressing up, her defenders behind her held the line, while her attackers pressed the other team.

As the other team advanced up the field towards the goal, Vi made sure not to let the player she was marking out of her sight, while also calling out to her wingers about the players making runs behind them.

The other team’s winger, a small girl named Sophie, with bright neon green cleats, was dribbling down the right side lines. Her teammates were making runs, and Vi tracked her mark, and glanced over her shoulder occasionally for anyone running behind her without a man. Sure enough, Isa, the other team's striker, was making a run behind Vi, while Vi’s left winger was pushed too far wide for some reason.

“Who’s marking her?” Vi shouted, just as Isa made a diagonal run, Sophie looking up, and drawing her foot back as she crossed the ball over to Isa. Forgetting about her mark, Vi slid, intercepting the past to Isa, and taking a few touches. Her team had switched quickly from defensive to offensive, and just as Vi found an open pass to Blythe, the left attacker, she felt the bottom of cleats take out her planted foot.

As she slid, nasty turf burns forming on her elbows and her knees, she turned to see Isa on the ground next to her. Grayson’s whistle blew, either to indicate a foul, or that the fifteen minutes was up, Vi didn’t know. Just as she stood up, stepping up to Isa, Grayson called for a huddle.

“You all had amazing tryouts, honestly, the amount of effort and work each of you put in was inspiring. Talis and I will be announcing what teams the majority of you have made.” She said, handing Talis a paper, and he stepped off to the side. “I’ll start off by naming the varsity players. If your name isn’t called, don’t take it personally. There are plenty of chances this season in order to move up and guest play with varsity.”

Grayson started calling names, the majority of the older girls didn’t seem surprised, having probably been on varsity in previous years. Vi pulled at a loose thread on her penny. She heard Mars’s name, along with Isa’s and her squad, Winnie, a girl named Maddie, who had a weird haircut and an odd accent, and some other names Vi would probably learn later.

Varsity. Please. Just give me this. Vi pleaded, to whatever god or gods above would listen.

“Violet Lanes.” Grayson called, not looking up from her clipboard. Vi’s eyes widened. She wanted to jump up and cheer, but after picturing embarrassing herself she thought better of it. Vi couldn’t wait to go home and tell Powder, maybe they could go out to get ice cream. She heard Isa scoff.

Once all the varsity players were named, they moved away from the group in a small huddle, listening to Talis name the JV players. A few minutes later, Grayson walked back over to the varsity girls, once again congratulating them and talking about their skills and efforts that they put in during the tryouts. Vi’s heart was beating out of her chest with excitement. Maybe moving schools wasn’t all that bad. Maybe she’d have a good season.

Some girls, freshman, were crying, hugging each other, probably haven gotten cut. Everyone huddled again, and did a quick cheer.

“Lanes, could I talk to you?” Grayson asked when Vi was taking off her shinguards. She walked over to the coach.

“What’s up, coach?” She asked.

“You’ve probably heard about what’s happened to our captain. Getting hurt before her last high school season is tough. It’s hard on her, and it's also hard on her teammates. She was the glue holding this team together, and it’s hard to find someone with just as much leadership skill as she’s got. But I’ve got to say, I think I see some in you.” Grayson said. Vi didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you, coach.” She said, her voice a bit quieter than she’d liked.

“You seem comfortable in your position.” Grayson notes, not expecting Vi to respond to that. “The six is not an easy position to play, and it definitely requires someone with a sense of authority.” Grayson says. Vi could only nod. “You’ve got some big shoes to fill, kid,” She offered Vi a smile. “But welcome to the team. I think you’ll like it here.” She said, patting Vi on the back and walking back to pack up some equipment.

Vi walked back over to Mars.

“What was that about?” Mars asked, head tilted.

“She was just telling me about my ‘authority as the six.’” Vi said, pulling her socks down to her ankles, sliding out of her cleats, and putting on some normal slides.

Someone squealed. Heads turned to the sidelines, where hobbling up to the bench, was a girl with dark blue hair, and crutches.

And as more girls caught sight of her, squealing and running over, bombarding the new arrival with a thousand questions and comments, the new girl's blue eyes ignored the crowd, and their glare seemed to be aimed directly at Vi.

Vi shivered.

Mars walked up to Vi’s side.

“Who is that?” Vi asked, not turning to look at Mars, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“Caitlyn Kiramman. She’s been the six and the varsity captain since her freshman year.” Mars answered. “And now you’ve got her position.”

Vi had a small, nagging feeling that Caitlyn was not going to be very happy about that.

Chapter Text

The lights in the hospital's lobby were blinding, the white walls adding to just how bright the room was. Caitlyn was reminded of the tall lights on the field, and how they danced and moved around in her vision like fireflies as she fell.

She was reminded of why she was there, in the hospital, in the first place.

She remembered the tackle, the shouts of parents on the sideline, the referee's whistle, the feeling of the turf digging into her palms.

And she remembered that it hurt.

She must've looked down at her leg at some point, but trying to remember exactly how it looked in that moment was difficult, probably because of the tears that had swarmed her vision. She remembers being told to lie down on the turf, and as she did, she didn’t register the girls swarming around her, or the coaches running up to her.

Because all she could think was: “My career is over.”

She remembered bits and pieces of that night. How fast it all went by, and how she felt almost detached from the situation. She remembered how the blue and red siren lights from the ambulance formed a violet-purple color.

She repeated the entire night in her head, over and over, until the nurse appeared from one of the back rooms.

“Caitlyn Kiramman?” The nurse called out to the room. Caitlyn stood up using one foot, grabbed her crutches,and started making her way towards the nurse, her mother, Cassandra, trailing not far behind her.

“Be careful, Caitlyn." Her mother spoke firmly.

“I’m fine, mother.” Caitlyn said over her shoulder, voice tinged with annoyance.

They followed the nurse down the winding corridors of the hospital, only pausing a few times for Caitlyn to adjust her crutches, making small talk until they reached room twenty-three and walked inside. The strong smell of disinfectant hit her nose, making her light-headed.

“Caitlyn, you can just sit here on the table while I ask you some questions.” The nurse said, before sitting down on her little rolling stool. Caitlyn placed her crutches on the wall and carefully lifted herself up to sit on the table. She tried to hide a wince, but she must’ve shown something on her face based on the pitying looks she got from her mom and the nurse. The paper crinkled under her, ripping where she placed her legs. She stared down at the floor, tracing the tiles with her eyes.

“How’s the pain?” The nurse asked, typing away on the computer.

“It's–fine.” Caitlyn lied, still staring at the tiles, shifting slightly, a burst of pain shooting up her leg. The nurse let out a hum, obviously not believing her. Caitlyn bit her cheek.

More questions about how she felt, if she had any concerns, and each passing minute in that office made her clench her fist harder.

“Alright, the doctor will be in soon to check on swelling and a few other things” The nurse said softly, offering Cassandra a small smile, and walked out of the room. Cailtyn and her mom sat in uncomfortable silence for a good three minutes. Finally, there was a quick knock before the doctor slid the door open.

“Good morning.” The doctor said, giving a quick nod to both women and sitting down. “How have you been since surgery?” He asked.

“Fine. It feels fine.” Caitlyn lied, again.

He slid his chair towards Caitlyn, blabbering and asking questions, but turning to Cassandra for answers when he realized Caitlyn wasn’t listening. He gently started unwrapping the gauze around her knee to check the swelling.

“Well, the swelling is about the same as it was right after your surgery, which isn’t out of the ordinary.” He spoke with little concern. And, although unrealistic, Caitlyn was somehow hoping he could say that she could return to soccer. She avoided looking down at her knee, because she knew that if she did, she would have to accept the fact that her knee, now swollen and bruised to the size of a baseball, wasn’t going to be getting better for a while.

Instead, she watched the doctor's face, focusing on the calm, almost relieved way examined it, letting her believe, for a moment, that maybe things were going to be alright.

The doctor read some recommendations and notes off of the computer screen, typing away at the keyboard. Cassandra was spit firing questions at the doctor, “How much rest time should she get? Can she still attend school? What’s the best kind of pain-killer for someone in her situation?”

She should’ve been listening, paying attention to the tips the doctor was giving her, but she couldn’t focus over the almost too-clean smell of the room, the bright lights, and the ache in her leg. It was making her dizzy, and she worried that if she fell off the table and hit her head, she’d wake back up on the turf, overwhelmed and confused.

“Caitlyn?” Her mom was snapping her fingers in front of Caitlyn's face. “Let’s go, if you want to watch the rest of the tryout. It started thirty minutes ago. Caitlyn blinked a few times, and the doctor was getting up to leave. Caitlyn thanked the doctor and said goodbye, as her mom helped her get off the table. Caitlyn glared at her. Cassandra took a step back, reflecting Caitlyn’s glare back at her, pulling her purse up over her shoulder.

As Caitlyn crutched silently back to the car, her thoughts were anything but silent. She was relieved to be out from the vibrant white lights, but still felt like her brain was otherwise occupied.

It took her longer to get into the car than she wanted, because frustratingly, her knee couldn’t bend the correct way. And although she’d been using crutches for a while, she still felt off balance. Once she finally reached the car, she opened the back door, and practically threw her crutches onto the seats.

“Caitl-” Her mom started. Caitlyn cut her off by slamming the door shut. She hopped back to the passenger seat and got in, arms crossed. She took a breath. Why was she mad? Her mom was just trying to help. She pushed down the guilt, and stared straight ahead. Cassandra hopped into the driver's seat and immediately started driving over to Piltover Academy.

Another downside to her injury was that she couldn’t drive. Which meant her parents either ordered a driver for her, or had to drive her around themselves. Caitlyn preferred the drivers. They never asked about her injury.

“The doctor said you could miss a couple weeks of school. I doubt you’ll have much work, but I’ll get someone to drop off your assignments.” Cassandra said sternly, eyes glued to the road.

“But I can watch practices, right?” Caitlyn asked, calmer now.

“Yes, but you must stay on the bench.” Caitlyn scoffed at that, she felt the annoyance creeping back up into her chest. She didn’t answer, turned up the radio, and stayed quiet the rest of the ride.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Cassandra parked the car in one of the closest spots to the field, right in front of the gate. They could watch the tryouts from where they were parked, and Caitlyn squinted to make out the players on the field.

It was weird, and even though Coach Grayson knew that Caitlyn wasn’t going to try out, Caitlyn had an odd feeling that she was late. And it was especially weird watching her own team play from this far away.

“I’m going to go to the field now.” Caitlyn announced to her mom, pushing the passenger door open and hopping out onto her good leg. She hopped to the back to get her crutches, and started for the gate.

She maneuvered so that she could lean against the gate, her crutches standing next to her, just far away enough that she could watch, without drawing attention. The field looked bigger when she wasn’t the one playing. The smell of the turf, and the sounds of girls calling for the ball was all too familiar, and her heart ached with how much she felt she was missing out. She’d only been out of the sport for a few months, and she was already sounding like a parent who claimed they used to be good in high school.

She watched the girls playing. She scanned around the field, trying to figure out what formations they were playing and who was in each position. She noted that the team not currently on the field was mainly freshman, they had a good turnout of new players this year. Caitlyn leaned against the gate, her crutches standing next to her.

Caitlyn’s eyes tracked the ball, as it moved, and with every bad touch and missed pass, she wished more and more to be able to run onto the field and try it herself.

Someone’s voice echoed across the field, loud and commanding, and Caitlyn stood up a bit straighter (as straight as she could with her bad knee), to find who it was that was yelling. Their tone reminded her of herself.

A flash of pink hair.

Caitlyn’s eyes zeroed in on this player. She didn’t know how she’d completely missed the new girl with hair as bright as that. Maybe she was too distracted by Sophie’s bright green cleats.

She almost seemed too in control to be a freshman, so Caitlyn guessed she transferred. Caitlyn watched the way she controlled both defensive and offensive lines, and how players, even the upperclassmen, seemed to listen to her. That piqued Caitlyn’s curiosity.

The game picked up speed, and Caitlyn watched intently, paying attention to the new girl with bright pink hair.

Caitlyn focused on the way the new girl adjusted to every play and run that was made by the other team, and Caitlyn had to admit, she was really good. And each time she received the ball, her movements and awareness of her teammates around her was impressive. Caitlyn watched as she won an aggressive tackle, picked her head up, and found an open pass, immediately moving to another spot to receive the ball.

She was playing the six, Caitlyn noticed. Not that big of a deal, other people played the six all the time. But watching closely, Caitlyn couldn’t help but wonder if she looked like that on the field, or if this new girl was playing this position better than she could.

Caitlyn felt the growing disdain for this girl start to cloud her mind. She didn’t even know this girl’s name and she was already feeling jealous? She shoved it down.

That’s pathetic, Caitlyn. You’re supposed to be a leader, and this isn’t a good show of sportsmanship.

Caitlyn watched the rest of this short scrimmage, trying to focus on the rest of her teammates, smiling when one of her friends made a good play, whispering praise from where she stood, even though she knew they couldn’t hear her.

The game flowed smoothly, Caitlyn’s eyes always drifting back to pink hair.

But the one time she wasn’t looking at the new girl, Caitlyn had glanced at Coach Grayson, who was looking at her watch and reaching for her whistle, which indicated this scrimmage was about to be over, quick movement in the corner of Caitlyn’s eyes, and when she looked back the new girl was on the ground.

Caitlyn winced, when she saw who’d shoved her. Of course it was Isa. Caitlyn knew first hand how aggressive she could be. Caitlyn had made a mental note freshman year to stay on her good side.

The new girl was on her feet, no doubt about to start a fight, when Grayson blew the whistle.

Caitlyn knew the drill. They were about to announce who made which team.

Girls ran over to the sideline, hands on hips, and grabbing water bottles, huddling around Grayson.

She decided she didn’t have to rush to get over to listen, because she already knew where most people would end up.

But she did want to see where the new chick would be placed. Definitely on varsity. There was no way she’d be placed with the freshman on JV, her ball control and ability to read the field were too impressive.

But once again, Caitlyn’s mind drifted back to comparing herself to this new girl. If she made varsity, would that mean she’s Caitlyn’s replacement? She was playing her position. But that was just a scrimmage, a temporary position.

And besides, Caitlyn’s knee will heal, and she’ll be back to playing in no time.

Caitlyn pushed herself off the fence, and grabbed her crutches as the team huddled and Grayson gave a talk. Caitlyn smiled when she saw Jayce, standing next to Grayson with an awkward smile on his face. He was a close family friend to the Kirammans, and they often invited him and his mom to dinner with them.Jayce had recently come back to coach JV, since the last JV coach had recently quit.

Caitlyn hobbled closer, still a little out of view from the team, but close enough that she could hear names as Grayson announced the varsity players.

And as Caitlyn assumed, it was almost the same team as last year, minus the three seniors they had lost once they’d graduated.

Two new players were announced, two girls named Tori and Elwyn. Sophomores, she could tell by how they jumped and giggled together as they ran over to stand with the other players who’d already been announced as varsity.

For some reason, Caitlyn was still waiting patiently for her name to be called, her heart racing with anticipation, even though she knew she wouldn’t hear her name.

She bit her cheek, trying to convince herself that what she was feeling wasn’t disappointment, and that she was happy for her teammates that had made varsity again.

Caitlyn watched as her closest friend on the team, Blythe, got called over to the varsity group, skipping to join the rest of her friends.

And then finally, Grayson called the new girl’s name.

“Violet Lanes.”

Caitlyn watched Violet closely, the way she almost seemed surprised when her name was called. Caitlyn rolled her eyes. No way this girl didn’t expect to be put on varsity.

She wondered where Violet was from. She definitely wasn’t on a school team Caitlyn had played before, and she doesn’t remember playing against her in club either. Caitlyn would have remembered the bright pink hair.

She listened as the rest of varsity was announced, and waited patiently as Jayce announced JV and the two groups huddled.

Once the two groups combined again and did a quick cheer, Caitlyn decided to head over to the sidelines. Some girls were all talking excitedly about the teams they made, while others were crying, or fuming off to the side.

Caitlyn went over to stand by a bench, sort of shocked that no one had noticed her yet, but a bit grateful when her crutch got caught on some turf and she almost tumbled over.

She scanned the huge group for Jayce, wanting to talk to him. He had met her family at the hospital the night she got hurt, and had stayed with her mom while they had gone over their options with the doctors. (He had to leave the room when he saw her knee, because it made him nauseous)

But he was off picking up gear so Caitlyn decided she would just wait. She found herself scanning the group of girls again, but this time she looked for pink hair.

It barely took her a few seconds, and Caitlyn found Vi talking to Grayson. And once again, the feeling Caitlyn refused to accept as jealousy, came back.

But Caitlyn couldn’t hide her scowl, no matter how many times she told herself that this new girl wasn’t her replacement.

Grayson looked excited, talking to Vi. Caitlyn wanted desperately to hear what they were talking about, when Blythe screamed and ran over to Caitlyn.

“Cait! Oh my gosh, we’ve missed you!”

Blythe looked like she was about ready to jump at Caitlyn, but thought better of it when she saw Caitlyn’s crutches and wrapped knee. She settled with a simple hug.

Caitlyn should have felt better. She was here, her friends were all crowded around her, but she just felt so disconnected from them. All the faces around her, just brought back the memories of when she was lying on the field.

She glanced over Blythe’s shoulder, and her eyes landed on the new girl, standing off to the side with Mars. Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed as she made eye contact with Vi.

Caitlyn looked her over, noting her gray eyes, her new looking cleats, weird haircut, and how out of place she looked compared to the other girls. How she stood, shifting from foot to foot under Caitlyn’s gaze.

But Caitlyn also couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. She let that thought go as quickly as it came.

Where was she from? Caitlyn made a mental note to ask someone about her later.

Finally the new girl looked away awkwardly. Caitlyn’s eyes stayed stuck on her until it was impossible to ignore the girls who had crowded around her.

Caitlyn answered as many questions as she could, explaining her injury and the surgery that followed. A junior named Maddie, who had joined Caitlyn’s circle of friends the previous year, asked a whole bunch of questions, and was practically clinging to Caitlyn’s arm. Caitlyn laughed, subtly trying to shrug Maddie off.

After a bit, Caitlyn briefly talked to Grayson, who gave her the saddest smile Caitlyn had ever seen, and apologized about her injury.

“You’re still a part of this team, Kiramman. And you’re still captain, on the field and off.” Grayson told her while the rest of the girls headed back inside to the locker room. Caitlyn blinked back tears.

Next, Caitlyn talked to Jayce. They avoided the topic of her injury, and instead talked about how Jayce would be coaching the junior varsity team.

“I think it’ll be a great learning experience. For me and the girls.” Jayce said as he carried the ball bag to the equipment shed, slow enough that Caitlyn could keep up. “But teenage girls are mean.” He frowned, tossing the bag into the shed and pulling the garage door down.

“I think you’ll be able to handle it.” Caitlyn laughed.

An hour later, Caitlyn, Blythe, Maddie, and a few other girls were at a local frozen yogurt spot. Blythe had gotten Caitlyn’s yogurt for her so that she could sit down and save them a table.

Caitlyn propped her elbow up on the table and rested her head on her hand. She was still thinking about the Violet girl, and how she moved like a snake around the field.

When Blythe and the other girls returned and pulled up more chairs to the table to make more room, Blythe set Caitlyn’s cup in front of her. Cake batter, raspberry, and dark chocolate. Caitlyn had had the same exact order since she was nine.

“Hey, Blythe?” Caitlyn asked, still deep in thought.

“Yeah?” Blythe asked, handing Caitlyn a spoon.

“Who was that new girl? With the pink hair?” Caitlyn asked, mixing her yogurt around with her spoon.

“Oh. I think her name is Violet? Vi? I think she told us to call her Vi. She’s kind of weird though.” Blythe said, taking a spoonful of her own yogurt.

“Yeah, she took tryouts way too seriously.” Sophie chimed in, a drop of yogurt on her nose.

“She was really good though, no doubt about that.” Winnie chimed in, wiping the yogurt off of Sophie’s nose with a napkin.

“Where is she from?” Caitlyn asked.

“Not sure. She looked like she was from Zaun though.” Mavis said, across the table from Caitlyn.

“Mavis!” Blythe hissed.

“What? I mean, look at her. Doesn’t exactly seem like the private school type. And there’s no way she’s from another Piltover school. Did you see her haircut?” Mavis said, waving her spoon around to get her point across.

Nobody argued with that.

The rest of the time at the fro-yo place, they talked about their schedules at school, complaining about their lunches and the teachers they didn’t like.

“I mean, I’ve been at school, what, three days?” Blythe said, scooping the last of her yogurt out. “And I’ve already got an essay due next Tuesday. I thought senior year was supposed to be easy.” She pouted.

Sitting there, Caitlyn almost forgot about her injury, and could almost pretend that this was one of their normal after-practice hangouts or team-bondings. That was, until she’d catch a glimpse of her crutches out of the corner of her eye, or move slightly wrong in her seat and the needles of pain would shoot through her knee again.

Caitlyn’s first day of physical therapy was the next Monday.

She had them every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. She had begged her mom for extra sessions, hoping that somehow it would help her get better quicker.

Caitlyn hadn’t gone back to watch the soccer training yet this week. For some reason she felt as though she was intruding, and each day when she’d go to roll out of bed, she’d have too much trouble getting around, and didn’t think it was worth it for right now.

Her first two sessions had been less than satisfactory. She was nervous, pushing herself too hard too fast. Constantly being told to slow down, take her time. But she needed to get better. And soon.

Caitlyn’s physical therapist was a young woman named Mel. Apparently, she had been recommended to Cassandra by a few of her co-workers.

“Mel works wonders! You’ll be back to playing in no time.” One of them had told Caitlyn when they’d heard about her injury. Caitlyn hoped it was true.

The service was good, and Caitlyn really liked Mel. She always made sure Caitlyn was comfortable, and offered Caitlyn these small chocolate mints after each session. She asked Caitlyn how she felt each day, and Caitlyn would always respond with her new favorite word: “Fine.”
Caitlyn was definitely one of the younger patients that the clinic had. Most of the others were old, and slow, and focused on moving simple joints and muscles. Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel a little out of place among them, since the majority of her was working properly.

On her second Tuesday session, Mel had a short talk with her. Caitlyn was supposed to have at least half of her range of motion back by now, and should’ve been able to start walking somewhat normally, but she still had to rely on her crutches, and she could barely bend her leg on her own.

“Obviously we’re continuing our sessions, you’re still scheduled for a few months. But we’ll have to figure out some more ways we can keep your progress moving smoothly. More exercises at home may be necessary.” Mel had told her, scanning over Caitlyn’s reports from the last week.

“But when can I start to play again?” Caitlyn asked, sitting on the edge of her chair. She knew the answer, because she’d asked this question almost every session.

“I can’t be sure yet, but we’re not looking at any time soon.” Mel offered her a sympathetic look. “But you can’t rush this, Caitlyn. I know how important soccer is to you, but you have to take the time to let yourself heal.”

Caitlyn crutched back to her mom in the waiting room, a paper with more printed out home exercises in hand.

The next Monday, Caitlyn hobbled over to her mom’s car, just wanting to stay home. Conflicted between wanting to go to physical therapy to get better, or giving up overall and staying home. But she knew her mother would never let her skip. And Caitlyn always got the same speech.

“We’re paying good money for you to get better, Caitlyn. Just think, you’ll thank me when you’re back on that field winning and having a good time with your teammates.”

When Caitlyn got to the car, her mother got out to help her into the passenger seat. Caitlyn placed her hand on the side of the car to steady herself as she slowly handed the crutches to her mother to put in the backseat. She hopped a step closer to open the passenger door, and used her good leg and the door to steady herself before carefully using her other hand to lift her leg into the car.

She wished that she’d been more grateful before her injury when she had two perfectly functioning legs.

Caitlyn and her mom didn’t speak on the way to physical therapy, the only noise in the car now was the faint sound of the radio.

When they reached the parking lot of her PT office, Cassandra parked the car and helped Caitlyn out of the car and to the door. She held it open, and waved politely at Elora, the receptionist at the front desk.

“Alright, Caitlyn. I'm going to stay in the car this time. Is that okay?” Cassandra asked once Caitlyn was fully inside the building.

“Yes. That’s fine.” Caitlyn sighed with relief.

Her mother was such a pain at PT. She was always telling Caitlyn that she was doing the exercise wrong, rushing, whatever. She hated the commentary.

It made Caitlyn so angry. Because her mom didn’t know how she felt. She’d never gotten an injury like this, never had her entire career on the line because of something as “small” as a dislocated knee. But Caitlyn was mostly mad that, despite how many times she said she felt alright, her mom was always the first one to point out that she was lying.

Caitlyn knew that Mel didn’t believe that she was fine. But Mel never pointed it out. But when her mom pointed it out, it brought back Caitlyn’s feelings, which were so far from optimistic.

And the session rolled by smoothly. No nagging, no “Is that what that exercise is supposed to look like?”’s. Nothing. Just Caitlyn and Mel, and the small pointers and tips Mel gave out.

But as much as Caitlyn hated when her mom watched, she hated that every small comment her mother made was true. And that she was right. She was lying.

Over the weekend Caitlyn had scanned every social media source, article, and school report she could find in schools around her area looking for where Vi came from. She was no doubt good enough to be in at least a school paper for an award or announcement, and it was quite easy to find her, given she was named athlete of the school her sophomore year.

Apparently, Vi had gone to a high school in the better part of Zaun, but it was still far from considered a top school. It was in a bad area, with terrible air quality, and wasn’t in a league big enough to be broadcasted or talked about outside of local papers.

No wonder no one knew who she was. The article Caitlyn found was barely a paragraph long, with a team photo of Vi posing with a trophy, and it wasn’t even on the front page of the school’s magazine.

Caitlyn didn’t even know why she was going through all the trouble to find out stuff about this girl. She told herself she just wanted to learn more about this new player, but she knew, deep down, that she was scared that Vi would replace her on the field. That everyone would forget about her.

Caitlyn started going back to the trainings, deciding she felt too bored sitting at home all day, whining and pouting, cooped up in her room.

She got there early, just so she could hang out with Blythe, and talk to Grayson and Jayce before the practice started.

Grayson had told Caitlyn that she could help set up the cones for different drills the girls were going to do. Caitlyn eagerly grabbed a stack of cones and set up different squares and diamonds where Grayson instructed. Grayson even gave her her own whistle!

Her arms were starting to hurt from hobbling around on her crutches, her knee throbbing beneath its wraps. She ignored it, glad to somewhat be involved again.

More girls started arriving, coming out of the locker room and onto the field, hyped and energetic. A few of the JV girls offered to help her, and she brushed them off politely, but was internally fuming. She hated being pitied.

Caitlyn sat down on the turf, her crutches propped up on the bench beside her. She was pumping up the flat balls that had been at the bottom of the ball bag, scanning over the field, not wanting to look as useless as she felt. She wanted to join the Rondo’s and the juggling circles.

And she was grateful for all the girls that came over and talked to her, but it quickly became awkward when someone would mention that they were excited to play, or had shin splints, or sore quads, and everyone would glance over to Caitlyn and get all quiet. She knew they meant well, that they just wanted to include her, but nobody knew quite what to say around her.

When warmups started, Caitlyn got the urge to get up to lead them. She knew the order of the exercises, and helped remind the girls who were currently in front when they stuttered to figure out which was next, quad stretch or toe-touches?

And Caitlyn watched from her spot on the sidelines, fiddling with the whistle that was now hanging around her neck pointlessly. Caitlyn wondered why she was so shy to lead now. She knew these girls, had been friends with them for years. But now, having to coach from the sidelines, made her feel like it wasn’t her place.

And once again, Caitlyn felt like she was intruding. That she wasn’t meant to be there.

She sat for a while, retrieving balls slowly when they went out of bounds, hitting them with her crutch just for fun.

But while she was hobbling back to her spot on the bench, a ball skidded across the turf knocking her crutch right out from under her. She stumbled forward with a yelp, pain shooting up her leg when she’d accidentally moved at an odd angle when flailing.

Right as Caitlyn was ready to hit the turf, someone caught her.

“Sorry! My bad, I was trying a new trick.”

Pink hair, awkward smirk.

Caitlyn glared up at Vi as she was helped back onto the bench. Vi handed her her crutches that had fallen onto the field. Caitlyn looked away, hiding the embarrassment that was most definitely causing her cheeks to become bright red.

“Maybe save the tricks for the times when the girl with crutches isn’t currently in your target zone.” Caitlyn hissed, moving the hair out of her face.

“Noted. Sorry, again.” Vi said, turning back to join the practice.

Caitlyn watched her go, but looked away quickly, trying to calm her rapid heart beat.

She blamed its increase in pace on her almost-fall.

Not the way Vi’s eyes sparkled when she helped Caitlyn back onto the bench.

Definitely not.