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I DON’T GET NERVOUS. Not for games, not for tests, not for anything. But right now? I feel like my insides are tangled in knots and it’s pissing me off.
As I stare into the mirror, I barely recognise myself in this fancy Royal Academy uniform.
It doesn’t even make sense for me to feel like this. It’s not like I haven’t faced pressure before. But this just feels different. It’s September 15th, 2016, and I’m joining the school I’ve played many games against. I’m joining the school that used to be my biggest rival. I’m leaving my old club, my old school, behind and quite literally joining the other side.
This Academy is a prestigious institution with its roots in Spain, where it’s known as Real Academy. The owners of the school expanded its reach by establishing branches in London and other major cities worldwide, all with the goal of producing top-tier footballers.
Entry isn’t easy, it’s reserved for the elite. Of course, if your parents are wealthy, that might open some doors. Which is most definitely not me. My football skills are what got me in.Β
Letting out a deep breath, I finally decide to step out of the bathroom to see my little sister standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. “Took you long enough,” she huffs. How can someone be thirteen and this sassy?
“You look good though…” she adds.
“Yeah?” I chuckle, raising my brows skeptically at her compliment.
She looks down at her hands, fidgeting with her school cardigan and I can immediately tell something is wrong. Sighing, I squeeze her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Cora?”
“Connie,” she scoffs, looking up to meet my gaze. “You’re gonna go to a whole different school that’s so far away and you’re practically leaving me.”
I let out a chuckle at her words. “I’m not leaving you. Ever, okay? You know you always have me.”
“Don’t leave me with dad,” she says in a whisper. “You know he hates me.”
I open my mouth to deny her words but I can’t. It’s the truth and even she knows. She looks exactly like our mother. A spitting image of her. Long and straight red hair, bright blue eyes, small nose, pink lips.
Every time dad looks at her, he just sees our mother and he hates it. He hates her.
And I’m the one that has to deal with that. He acts like there’s only one kid in this house: me. He treats her like she doesn’t exist, and when he does acknowledge her, it’s only to scream or hurl insults and then I have to step in to stop him every time.
The truth is, he’s barely around. He’s either drowning himself in work or alcohol; but if I’m being honest, it’s somewhat better that way. Him not being at home, I mean. That way, he doesn’t get to shout at Cora and I don’t have to step in.
It’s not all great though. I’m the one who cooks all the meals, who keeps the house clean, who picks her up from school because God forbid he’d ever do it. I’m the one who buys her clothes, helps her with homework, and gives her life advice.
I was the one who helped her when she got her period. I barely knew anything about it myself, I had to research everything just to figure out what she needed but I did that. I stepped up when he couldn’t.
The responsibility of the household and the pressure of being the best on the pitch piles up on top of each other constantly but it’s just shit I have to deal with. No matter how unfair it is.
“He won’t do anything to you,” I promise her. “He can’t because I won’t let him.”
She lets out a shaky breath of relief and her lips tilt up into a small smile.
“Get a move on, you lot!”
I shake my head at my dad’s words, my jaw tensing. “Let’s go,” I mutter.
This is the first time he’s ever driven any of us to school. Our secondary school is only around a two minute walk from the house but The Royal Academy is almost on the other side of the city, around a thirty minute car ride.
So my dad is driving me there today and he’s also driving Cora to school. He didn’t want to, he made that very clear, but I also made it clear that he is going to whether he likes it or not.
I know my dad and I know he probably won’t be driving me to school much longer. I’m going to have to start taking two buses just to get there. Which means I have to wake up earlier in the morning to make it on time. If I did that, I won’t be able to be with Cora in the mornings and she’s going to have to deal with dad alone.
Fuck. I honestly don’t even want to think about how terrible that is right now.
I open the front door for her and she steps out, with me following behind her. I notice my dad in the car and I also notice the frustrated expression on his face.
“He looks mad, Connie,” she mumbles.
“Because we’re a little late but it’s okay.”
I open the back door for her and once she’s in, I close the door and get into the passenger seat. “Her school first.”
He lets out a scoff as he glances at me. “She’s in secondary school. She can start walking to school alone, quit acting like she’s a baby.”
What he doesn’t fucking get is that being alone makes her nervous. What he also doesn’t get is that there are some stupid girls at school that are picking on her. Of course, he wouldn’t know though because I deal with it.
I’ve been saving up money. From a small part-time job over the years, but when I turned sixteen, I worked every chance I got, especially in the summer. And soon, when I hit seventeen, I’ll buy a car. I’ll be able to drive her to school and myself without dealing with his bullshit.
It won’t be the best car, obviously. A guy from my old school that I know, Cal, his dad is selling his old BMW for just under three thousand pounds. To be honest, I don’t even deserve it. Cal and I haven’t been friends for a while but when he heard I was looking for a car to buy and he decided to help out.
The sound of the car starting pulls me out of my thoughts. Today is my first day of school, I realise again. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
This whole stupid day I’ve spent with the Headmaster Mr. Torres. He gave me a tour of the building which took surprisingly long. Well, not really surprising since this school is huge.
After that, he took me to his office and gave me what felt like a ten hour talk on the strict rules of this school and what he expects from me. I’m not kidding, he wouldn’t stop talking. I had to eat lunch at his office. On the first day of school. How fucking pathetic is that?
The one thing he wouldn’t stop repeating is how I need to control my anger. He’s clearly heard of the fights I got into in my last school…. and heard about my many suspensions.
Not just that, but he was also on my ass about my grades. He said, and I quote, “You’re a smart boy, we all know that. You just don’t care about your homework and assignments but you need to because if I find out they’re not done, you don’t play in the next football game.”
The only good part of our talk was him giving me my football uniforms. The one for the school that’s white, royal blue, and gold. The one for the club outside of school Royal United, white, red, and gold. Both have the number I’ve been using since I was a kid. Number 10.
Now I’m wearing the practice kit, white shorts and a white shirt with the school’s name on it and my name on the back as I head towards the football pitch.
“O’Conner!” the Coach yells, gesturing for me to hurry up.
I pick up my pace, jogging over to them. All of the boys glare at me like I shagged their mums or something.
I recognise some of them. From playing against them when I was on my old team. The one glaring at me the hardest with his arms crossed in front of his chest is none other than Felix Castro, the Coach’s son and the team captain.
To say that there was a rivalry between this school and my old one would be the understatement of the century. So for me, who’s been in many fights with them, to join their club is kind of fucking mental. But it was an opportunity I couldn’t afford to lose.
“This is Aaron O’Connor,” Coach introduces me. “I know you lot already know the lad but put all your hard feelings aside because he’s on this team now.”
“The winning team,” one of the guys add. Jack. I’d recognise him and his signature cornrows anywhere. The bloke doesn’t take anything serious. From what I remember from last season, all he does is make jokes.
“Alright, partner up for warm ups!” Coach orders.
Before I can even get a chance to look around, a familiar guy comes up to me. “I got you.”
“Hassan fucking Lazaar,” I mutter. I haven’t spoken to him in ages. I’ve only seen him during games or tournaments.
It’s not like we were the greatest of friends. Or friends at all for that matter. We used to go to the same primary school. Cal, Hassan, and I along with some prick named Luca used to all be friends. Until we weren’t. Well, at least I wasn’t friends with them.
It wasn’t a big deal, until Luca and I fought. Physically. Not just once but many times. And it was always Cal and Hassan to break us apart. I wasn’t good with them but it’s not like I hated them. It was just fucking Luca.
“Heard you were transferring here but I honestly didn’t believe the rumours,” he tells me as we jog around the pitch.
“Well, I’m here.” And I’m staying.
“Listen, mate,” he starts. “You’re on the same team as me now, in the school I’ve been at for years. It’s best we put the primary school shit away, yeah?”
He’s right. Besides, my problem isn’t with him. It’s with his dick of a friend.
“Fine with me,” I reply with a shrug.
“I know the lads are tense right now but they’ll get used to you,” he assures.
“Not Felix though.” I’m not going to lie, I’m hotheaded. I’m an angry guy. Fuck, I’ve heard from every adult in my life. Because of that, I get into all sorts of shit. I don’t think I’ve had a game against Royal United without having some sort of altercation with Felix, their captain.
Hassan lets out a chuckle. “What do you expect when you lot have fought more times than I can count?”
True.
“This school is a castle compared to Trinity.” A tour of my old secondary school Trinity would take thirty minutes top, but this school? My legs were about to pass out when Mr. Torres was showing me around.
“Mental, right?” he chuckles. Absolutely mental.
“Fine, maybe you’re good for the team,” Jack huffs, crossing his arms. “Alright, and maybe I like your dickhead ass too.”
I let out a laugh, drying my hair with a towel. Practice just ended and we are all in the locker room. Some showering while others are getting changed but a few boys from the team are surrounding Hassan and I.
If I’m being honest, that was the best practice of my fucking life. Of my sixteen years of living.
I didn’t miss one shot and when Coach made us end the day with a scrimmage, I scored a hattrick. Not against any team, but against Felix’s. Now they’re all telling me how bringing me onto the team was what they needed to start the year off.
I’d be lying if this didn’t feel great. I’d be Pinocchio, for fuck’s sake.
I impressed them. Not only them but the Coach. He gave me a talk after practice, said that this is why he brought me onto the team and to keep it up.
“He’s alright,” Hassan sighs, clearly trying to piss me off.
“I don’t want to hear it from you,” I laugh, pushing him away from me.
“You’re good, lad,” one of the guys, Carson, speaks up, nudging my shoulder. “But you gotta make up for all those fights you’ve picked with us over the years.”
I let out a chuckle in response. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with that.
I’ve never really had a problem with Carson. He isn’t one to pick or fight or to be in one for that matter. Come to think of it, I didn’t have a problem with Jack either. I had a problem with Felix. And they were Felix’s friends. I can’t even count the amount of times they’ve pulled us away from a fight back when I was playing for TSS.
“Settle down, ladies!”
Ladies? I turn around to see Coach with a smirk on his face as he scans the room.
“Our first game of the school season is next week,” he informs us. “Keep training and I better see all of you guys at the next practice. You skip a day, you skip a game. Got it?”
“Yes, Coach,” the whole team says in unison.
“Alright, now all of you piss off and go rest,” he chuckles and walks out of the locker room.
I open my locker, putting my practice clothes inside my gym bag. One by one, everyone starts to leave the room.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Connie,” Jack says with a grin, patting my shoulder as he walks past. “Be on my team for the next scrimmage, will ya’?”
I laugh at his request. I know his best friend Felix isn’t going to be too happy about that.
Turning back to my locker I see that it’s closed. You’re kidding.
I practically start wrestling with the lock but it won’t open. I just had it open. The fuck is wrong with it? Now the lock won’t budge no matter how much I fiddle with it.
“Come on,” I mutter, tugging on the handle. The stupid metal refuses to give up.
My dad is waiting outside and the longer I’m taking, the more pissed he’s going to be.
The sound of footsteps echo behind me. I take a quick glance over my shoulder to see that nobody was there. Frustrated, I continue fighting with the lock. What the fuck is up with it?
Letting out a deep breath, my fist slams on the lock, creating a banging sound that echoes throughout the locker room. The footsteps stop abruptly at the noise and my eyes narrow. Maybe there is someone here?
“Lad, can you give me a hand?” I call out.
No one replies. They must be fucking with me.
Running a hand down my face, I head towards where I heard the footsteps. I immediately straighten up, my eyebrows raising. A girl-definitely not one of my teammates-is standing there, eyes wide, clutching a small duffel bag in front of her chest.
“Oh,” she says softly, her voice barely over a whisper as she tucks a piece of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. It’s curly. Very curly. With a few pieces falling onto her forehead.
“I’m just… uh, leaving this.” She gestures vaguely at the bag in her hands.
I blink at her words, caught off guard. “You’re in the wrong place, aren’t you?”
I know I’m not in the wrong place. This is the boys locker room… right?
Her cheeks flush at my reply and she shakes her head. “Yes- I mean no. I’m not. I’m just here to drop this off.” She quickly drops the bag on the nearest bench before taking a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone-“
“You’re good,” I interrupt, taking a step forward. Her eyes dart to my shirtless body then to across the room, as if she doesn’t know what to look at. “You’re not exactly the person I expected to see. You’re with the team?”
Her brows furrow and she’s quick to shake her head. “No. Not really.”
“Not really?” I repeat, my lips tilting up. “So, what then? You’re scouting for another team? Stealing our plays?”
My words make her stop, her eyes finally snapping up to meet mine for the first time. “No,” she scoffs, narrowing her brown eyes at me. “I’m-” She cuts herself off, pursing her lips together.
The small smile on my face only widens. “I’m messing with you, Blondie,” I chuckle and watch as her eyes widen at the nickname. “You’re here for coach, huh? That’s his practice bag.”
She hesitates, biting on the bottom of her lip nervously. What is she nervous about?
“Yep,” she finally responds.
“Got it.” I nod my head slowly, taking another step towards her. “Brave of you to go into the boys locker room alone, though?”
“I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
“Well, since you’re here,” I start, turning back to face my locker. “Will you help me open my locker?”
A soft chuckle escapes her pink lips but her face slowly drops when she realises I’m serious. “Oh,” she breathes. “Yeah, sure.”
I cross my arms and watch as she walks in front of me, stopping in front of my locker. Her shoulders drop as she lets out a sigh before turning to face me, leaving only a few inches of space between us.
“The code.” She clears her throat, looking up through her eyelashes to meet my gaze. “Are you sure you want to tell a girl you just met your locker code?”
“2-8-6-0,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders. It isn’t the wisest thing to do but I’ll get Coach to change it some other day. If I can’t get this locker open, I’ll be walking through the halls with just a pair of grey sweatpants on with no shirt. On my first day.
“Okay then,” she mutters, turning back around.
My eyes narrow as I watch her put the code in and shake the lock gently. To my surprise, it opens. Blondie just practically saved my life. Even though, I have no idea what she did differently than me.
She takes a few steps back. “There.”
I open the door, taking out my navy blue hoodie with a huff. “I swear that’s what I did.”
I hear a soft laugh from her, making my lips tug up. “Thank you, blondie,” I say as I throw the hoodie over my head.
“That’s not my name.”
“Then tell me your name.”
She looks like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. “I need to go.”
“Wait.” Fuck. I quickly grab my backpack and catch up to her before she can walk out of the door. “What if I want to thank you?”
She glances back, her expression guarded. “You don’t have to. It was nothing.”
I don’t get to ask another question before she’s gone, disappearing down the hallway as quickly as she arrived.
I stand there, like an idiot, a grin playing on my lips as I stare at the door.
Who is she?
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