Waylay looked up from her team huddle and waved at me. I grinned and waved back.
The ref blew two short blasts on the whistle, and two girls from each team jogged to the center circle. “What’s happening? Did the game start?” Stef asked.
“They’re doing the coin toss. You’re lucky you’re so pretty. What if your future husband is into sports?”
Stef shuddered. “Perish the thought.”
“The coin toss determines which team gets the ball for kickoff and which direction they’re trying to score.”
“Look at you, soccer mom,” he teased.
Self-consciously, I straightened my Knock ’Em Out hoodie. Thanks to a school fundraiser, I now owned a capsule wardrobe of school cheer gear. The mascot was an oversize boxing glove named Punchy that I found both charming and inappropriate.
“I may have done a little reading up on the sport,” I said. I’d done a lot of research. I’d reread Rock Bottom Girl and watched Ted Lasso, Bend it Like Beckham, and She’s the Man for good measure.
The whistle on the field signaled the start of the game, and I cheered along with the rest of the crowd as the action got underway.
Two minutes into play, I was holding my breath and Stef’s hand in a death grip as Waylay got the ball and started dribbling for the goal.
“Go, Waylay! Go!” Dad shouted as he came out of his chair.
When we were ten years old, Tina had played softball for one season. Dad had been her biggest fan. It was nice to see he hadn’t lost his enthusiasm.
Waylay faked a move to the right before heading in the opposite direction around the defender and firing off a pass to Chloe, Sloane’s niece.
“That was good, right?” Stef asked. “It looked good. Sneaky and full of deception.”
“The coach says she’s a natural,” I said proudly before yelling, “Go, Chloe!”
Chloe lost the ball out of bounds, and play was paused so three players could tie their shoelaces.
“A natural. That’s impressive.”
“She’s quick, she’s sneaky, she’s a team player. There’s just one or two little kinks that need working out.”
“What kind of kinks?” Stef asked.
“What did I miss?” Sloane appeared next to me in jeans and a Nirvana tank top under a soft gray cardigan. She had her pink and blonde hair piled high in a knot on top of her head and stylish sunglasses. Her lips were painted ruby red. She waved to Chloe and plopped down in her own camp chair.
“Just the first two minutes. No score. And Wraith hasn’t screamed ‘Come on, ladies!’ yet,” I reported.
On cue, the burly biker cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Come on, ladies!”
“And all was right with the world,” Sloane said with a satisfied smile. “Any yellow cards for Way yet?”
I shook my head. “Not yet.” Though if the past two games were accurate predictors, it was only a matter of time.
“Is that like an award?” Stef asked.
“Not exactly,” she said, winking at me before turning back to my best friend. “You’re looking annoyingly gorgeous today.”
He preened, fluffing the collar of his sweater. “Why, thank you, Sexy Librarian. Love those boots.”
She kicked up her feet to admire the knee-high waterproof footwear. “Thanks. I discovered early on in Chloe’s soccer career that I wasn’t a fan of wet shoes and squishy socks.”
“Now she tells me,” he complained.
“By the way, loving this whole curly vibe,” Sloane said, waving her hand in front of my face.