Chapter 1: Monday, First day of Summer

Mom woke me from a terrible sleep. My body was stiff and sore like it had slept for hours, yet my mind was groggy like it hadn’t slept a minute.

Mom called from outside my new bedroom door, “Dear, you need to get up for soccer practice,”

Shit! Soccer practice. I knew almost nothing about soccer. I’ve never played, except for in physical education class.

Mom says it was lucky that they let me join. All the other activities had already begun or were full. This team needed one more player to make 11 girls, although I didn’t feel lucky.

I dressed quickly in panties, shorts, a bra, a t-shirt, socks, and running shoes, as I wore to PE class. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and ran to our new kitchen.

We just moved here like literally yesterday. Twenty-four hours ago, I was still in New York with my friends. Now, I am surrounded by boxes and blinded by a shockly bright sun that streamed in from the kitchen window.

I glanced around our new place. It was basic with two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and basement, and ugly - yellows and browns, like from the old days.

We had a backyard and front yard, something I had never experienced back home, having lived in apartments all my life.

Standing at the kitchen sink, I squinted at our green lawn with an insignificant yellowish bush. A cute herd of all-white rabbits huddled around and under the bush. On the other side of the lawn was a black-eared rabbit, off by itself. It was lonely, and I was sad for the poor thing.

“We have no food. I will get you something on the way to soccer practice,” Mom yelled from her room.

I nodded and turned to find the door to the garage. Happily, I only opened two wrong doors - basement and laundry room, before I was into our massive two-car garage, with only one car - a rental for the moment, and a small pile of boxes on the other side.

“What do you want?” Mom asked as she rushed me into the car.

“Starbucks,” I replied, wiping sleep from my eyes.

There are Starbucks everywhere, and I knew what to get. I didn’t want to begin my morning with some hippy-dippy SoCal food.

I was happy sipping a chocolate mint mocha while nibbling on a blueberry muffin when we finally arrived at the soccer field.

It was the best and worst of Southern California. Evenly spaced bright green trees surrounded the emerald grass field. An ugly old chain link fence protected the green oasis from a series of brutal windowless industrial buildings. A small black parking lot was the only access to this hidden green gem. The small driveway was hard to find between the large protective trees. Mom’s GPS saved us from getting lost.

We must have been the last to arrive as a decuplet of identical smiling blonde girls hung out or played soccer on the field. They all wore blue short shorts, white and blue team tank tops, white or black sports bras, black cleats, and long white and blue knee socks with white or blue shin guards. Most had their hair in ponytails - some in French braids.

One girl did stand out - she was wearing a bright orange jersey with large gloves - she must be the goalie.

The female coach was a larger version of the girls, except in longer shorts and a t-shirt-styled team jersey - still blonde ponytail, soccer cleats, socks, and shin pads. The Male coach was fat in a too-tight red golf shirt, too-tight black dress pants, and scuffed black dress shoes. He was studying a clipboard while she passed a ball with some girls.

I sipped my mint mocha and tried to be brave. My dark black hair identified me as an obvious outsider. Back home, there was lots of contrast in the hair color. Here, I didn’t belong. Unless I bleach my hair, I will never belong here.

What was the point of this?

“Do I have to?” I asked my mom.

“Yes, you need to make new friends, and you’ll have fun.” She replied.

However, she’s not blind.

She was worried. I don’t belong.

“I talked to the coach. She was nice.” Mom tried to cheer me up.

I didn’t want to go out there. I knew nothing about soccer, and these girls did.

“I don’t even know how to kick the ball, and these girls are pro,” I whined.

Mom will likely still make me go, but there was a chance.

“This is the lowest league. The coach said they just play for fun,” Mom said while touching my shoulder.

She was trying to comfort me, but her hand was more like pressure to do something I didn’t want.

“Whatever,” I mumbled and exited the car.

We walked to meet my new team.

The female coach waved to us, and I instantly liked her. She was so welcoming and friendly. The rest of the girls stopped talking or playing, glanced our way, and then returned to their own worlds. Their body language said it all - “Great, a new girl, and she’s a freak.”

“Are you Margot? I’m Coach Lisa, this is Coach Mark.” Female Coach Lisa said as she gestured to the Male Coach beside her.

“Call me Coach Wilson.” The male coach commented without glancing up from his clipboard.

“I’m Mrs. Boucher, but you can call me Deb.” My mom introduced herself to the coaches.

“Mark,” Coach Wilson said directly to my Mom.

I didn’t like the way he leered at my mom.

“Lisa.” Coach Lisa said to my Mom, then asked me again. “And you are Margot?”

My mom chuckled and interrupted me, “Sorry. Yes, Margot, say hi!”

She means well, but she cannot stop butting into my life.

“Hi!” I mumbled, studying my off-white shoes.

I hate that I am so shy.

We have been working on it, and I am improving, but this was too overwhelming.

Why are we doing this?

“OK. Girls, warm-up lap.” Coach Wilson yelled as he turned away from us.

Mom and I no longer mattered.

“Margot - do you have cleats or shin protectors?” Coach Lisa asked me directly.

My mom responded, on my behalf, “No, we didn’t have time to get those. Does she need them for today?”

Great, I didn’t even have the correct equipment. How can this get worse?

“No, today is also our first practice of the season. It will be easy. Margot will be fine.” Coach Lisa responded and gave me a reassuring smile.

At least Coach Lisa was decent.

“As long as she doesn’t get kicked too hard in the shins.” Coach Wilson commented while ignoring us.

Unlike jerk Coach Wilson. What’s his problem with me?

“I will go buy her some right now.” My mom answered.

“Margot, here is your uniform.” Coach Lisa said as she handed me a small bag.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, glancing at her perfect face.

With pink lipstick, she was an older version of the classic Valley girl with a flawless complexion, large smile, and twinkling eyes. I gazed at her overly large chest. Her breasts appeared too large to be natural.

I peered around for a place to change.

“No change rooms. Just use the washroom over there.” Coach Lisa said as she pointed to a tiny building with one door.

It was a unisex washroom. Where I grew up, males and females had their own washrooms, but things here must be different.

“Thanks,” I said louder this time, trying to be less shy.

Mom calls it baby steps. It’s just me being a baby.

I ran off to the washroom to get changed.

“Have fun, dear!” My mom called as I arrived at the door.

The washroom was petite, with only a toilet stall, sink, and a small area for changing.

I slipped off my shirt and shorts to put on the new gear.

The shorts were so short that the bottom of my ass cheeks were almost visible in them. The tank top had large armholes, and I wore the wrong bra. If I lifted my arms, my nipples were easily visible in my bra.

I was so stupid to wear the white lace one. If only I spent five extra minutes this morning to find my sports bra, but instead, I was lazy and am now stuck flashing the world.

Why did Mom think that joining soccer was a good idea? I can’t even dress appropriately.

I stayed in the washroom debating about going out dressed like this.

Maybe if I was sick? Jet lag was a real thing, right?

My stomach was queasy. What if I threw up? No one makes a sick person play soccer.

It’s super gross but maybe worth it.

I had moved on to possibly faking period cramps when the door opened, and in walked Coach Wilson.

The washroom was small. It was minuscule, with imposing Coach Wilson in it with me.

“Are you ok?” He asked with his words, but his eyes and tone said, “You had better be sick, or I will give you something to be sick about.”

He scared me. All my plans exited my mind.

In panic mode, I mumbled, “Yeah, just coming now.”

I rushed to get around him and out of this cramped space.

“Do you need help with anything?” Again, his words said one thing; his eyes and tone said something else.

Was I safe? He might try to grope me. I’m too small to stop him.

“No, I’m good,” I mumbled as I slipped by him and out of the room.

I glanced back as I ran to the field.

Shit, I left my other clothes in the washroom.

Coach Wilson was not following me.

Shit, I am not going back in there with him.

I returned to chaos.

Girls were kicking the balls to each other, running someplace, passing, shooting. I didn’t follow what was happening.

I just stood at the side of the field, trying to figure out what to do.

Coach Lisa waved to me and ran over.

“Have you ever played before?” She asked.

“Only in class,” I mumbled back.

“So you know the rules and how to kick the ball?” She added softly.

She was so gentle.

“Yeah, I think so.” I tried to speak a little louder.

“Let me see.” She said as she jogged over to a spare ball and kicked it towards me.

She kicked it perfectly, which meant I stopped it and kicked it back in her general direction. I was pleased she only had to run a few steps to get it.

“Right, we will have to work on this.” She commented, kicking the ball back towards me.

Coach Lisa and I spent most of the practice kicking the ball back and forth.

I didn’t know so many ways to kick a ball existed. Coach Lisa was bewildering- patient, knowledgable, and oh, so beautiful.

I liked her before. Now, I was in love, and I’m not a lesbian.

At least I don’t think I am a lesbian.

Near the end of practice, Coach Wilson called everyone in.

“Ok, girls, we will play a short scrimmage, then call it a day. Anna, you and Coach Lisa are captains.” Coach Wilson commanded as he gestured to each side.

Coach Lisa gave Coach Wilson a slightly annoyed glance.

Shit, I had no idea how to play soccer. I barely knew how to kick the ball.

The girl in the goalie shirt jogged to one side. She must be Anna, while Coach Lisa walked to the other.

“Eva - Julia - Tess - Abigail - Ada - Fenna - Lise - Zoe - Bella,” I tried to memorize the names, but the picking was too fast.

There were some differences, mainly in the chest and body types.

“Margot.” Coach Lisa called with the final pick.

Dead fucking last, which makes sense. I suck at soccer. I didn’t belong here. It had been fun, well, Coach Lisa had been fun, but Mom had to understand when I told her I needed to quit.

No. I need to come up with an exception reason. Doubtful, but there was a chance.

I jogged over to our side of the ball. I was already exhausted.

The sun was hot and the most physical activity I have ever done.

How was I going to play? How do you play? The little I learned in class did nothing to prepare me. Even if it did, these girls have played for years.

“Zoe, can you play goal?” Coach Lisa asked.

“I don’t want to. Can’t you play it again?” Zoe whined.

“Zoe, we can switch you out halfway?” Coach Lisa said with a firm voice.

“I guess...” Zoe whined and jogged to our goal.

Zoe appeared and moved as if stoned. Was she?

“Margot - just stay near me and do your best.” Coach Lisa said as we all turned to begin the game.

I was perplexed and disoriented for the first bit of the game.

These girls were good.

They knew what they were doing - lots of passing, running, and quickly, a goal for the other side.

I tried to run beside Coach Lisa, but she was way too fast. She ran faster dribbling the ball than I did at full sprint.

At one point, I was out of position in the corner near their net.

I was always behind the play. Coach Lisa stole the ball from the other team and passed it straight to me. I stopped it just like she taught me, turned, and took a shot.

Anna comfortably stopped my shot. I was so pleased that I remembered her name that I almost missed the rebound that landed at my feet. I wound up for a second attempt.

One of the girls did a sliding tackle on me, knocking away the ball, slamming her cleats into my shin, and knocking me over.

Fuck, it hurt. I was on the ground holding my leg when Coach Lisa ran over.

“Margot, are you ok?” She asked as she studied my bleeding leg.

“Need shin guards!” Coach Wilson yelled at me.

Asshole, did he want salt for my cut also.

“Play on.” Coach Wilson then yelled.

“No, stop for a moment.” Coach Lisa called out.

The other girls listened to Coach Lisa, and a few walked over to check if I was ok.

“Are you ok?” The slide tackling girl asked.

“I think so.” I lied.

I didn’t want her to get into trouble, and I didn’t know what else to say.

“This will hurt for a bit, and you will have a huge bruise, but you will be ok.” Coach Lisa comforted me.

“What’s the problem?” Coach Wilson asked as he walked up.

Fucking asshole. I was dying, and Coach Wilson was annoyed that my death might interfere with his game.

“Bleeding Shin.” Coach Lisa said as she glanced up at Coach Wilson.

I instinctively glanced up for his reaction.

He was staring at my chest.

I glanced down. My shirt had moved over, and one of my breasts had escaped. My breast, with its bright red nipple cradled in my white-laced bra, was visible to Coach Asshole.

Fuck, great, I was flashing the pervert.

I quickly adjusted my top, but my nipples were so erect that they were still noticeable. I pulled my legs up to cover my chest. Coach Lisa put an arm around my shoulders.

I have no idea why, but at that moment, I almost had an orgasm. In fact, I may have had a mini one. The feeling of the pain in my shin, the flashing of my breast, the idea of everyone staring at my erect nipples, and then my beautiful coach putting her arm around me was just too much.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Can you still play?” Coach Lisa asked me gently.

Did she feel my body shudder from my mini-orgasm? Did she know what it was if she had?

“Practice is over anyway.” Coach Wilson commented as he turned away.

“Girls, we are here again tomorrow. We have a lot to do before our game on Saturday. You were all pathetic, and our new girl has no idea what she’s doing, so tomorrow, you had better suck less.” He yelled at the disbanding girls.

I was in a lot of pain as Coach Lisa helped me walk to the parking lot.

I was confused. My leg was still bleeding a bit, but my pussy was leaking a lot.

Why was I turned on?

I had never been in this much pain before, and I liked it? Or was I just a confused and fucked up person?

“How did she do?” My mom asked as we arrived at the car.

“She got cut by a cleat today. It looks a lot worse than it is.” Coach Lisa commented to my mom.

My shin throbbed, but my body vibrated in lust. I must be a screwed-up person for pain to turn me on.

“Oh, Margot, are you ok? Let me see.” My mom is a bit over dramatic for me sometimes.

I tried to evade my mom by slipping past her and into the passenger seat.

I was partially successful. I was half in when Mom grabbed my leg and fussed over it.

“Just wash it out and put a bandaid on.” Coach Lisa instructed my mom.

“Of course. I bought the full soccer kit at the store.” Mom said as she pointed to a large mesh bag in the back seat.

“The store said it has everything she needs. Shoes, guards, ball, even something called a kick trainer for practicing.” She added.

“Excellent,” Coach Lisa said to my mom, then turned to me, “Margot, you have lots to learn, but I was very impressed with how quickly you learned and how hard you worked. If you practice the basics every day this week, you will be ready for the game on Saturday.”

“Ok,” I said and realized that I meant it.

I even gazed straight at her as I said it.

I will do this for Coach Lisa.

“I want you to do twenty minutes of jogging to build your endurance.” She added.

“How often?” Mom asked as if it mattered.

I have never run before. Possibly, it didn’t matter. I wanted to please Coach Lisa.

“Every day, and just easy jogging or walking, she will get enough running at practice every day. Easy runs will help her recover and build basic endurance.” Coach Lisa informed my mom.

“Margot, we can do that together.” Mom gushed, then to Coach Lisa, “Thank you so much for letting her join. It means a lot to us.”

Fucking great, now I have to go running with Mom. I hate running, and It’s super crappy to run with your mom. However, it’s Coach Lisa asking. I do want to please Coach Lisa.

“No problem. Take care, Margot, and look after that leg.” Coach Lisa said as she left for her car.

“She seems like a great coach,” Mom commented as we drove home.

“She’s amazing,” I replied.

I may have a slight crush on my coach.

“Did you make any new friends?” Mom grilled me.

She is always so nosy.

“Not yet,” I replied.

I hadn’t talked to any of the girls.

“I so didn’t fit in,” I whined.

I wanted to quit, but I wanted more of Coach Lisa.

“Well, you will, and hey, the internet may be on by the time we get home, and it’s almost noon, which is 3 p.m. New York time,” Mom commented.

“Sure, whatever,” I said under my breath.

I turned away from my mom and watched the bright neon signs pass. They were similar to but just slightly different from the places back home. Instead of Joe’s Diner, it was Jose’s Diner here. Why did that make everything so much worse?

Unpacking was weird. Every box had stuff that I didn’t remember having.

I found things from when I was much younger - forgotten stuffed animals, old magazines, and near-empty diaries. The pictures that my best friend Charlotte and I drew together made me cry. Charlotte was a million miles away. We haven’t been more than a few miles apart in our whole life, except now.

Everyone I knew, all of my friends, was back in New York. New York even had Dad’s remains. Everything that mattered was in New York. Yet, I was here in California.

I hated my Mom right now. She didn’t really need to take this job. She didn’t really need to move us across the country the day after the last day of school. She didn’t have to be such a selfish bitch.