Cheers erupt from my team, and even I give a thumbs up to Belle as she walks over. Her hair is loose in its ponytail and a few unruly strands are plastered to her face with sweat. She seems to glow with her victory, her eyes shining, blindingly white teeth flashing. I keep my stoic mask on, but I still offer her a soft congratulations. I really am proud; Belle must have pushed herself hard to run that much distance in such little time. Belle subtly nods toward the other team.
"Look. Sophie and Noah are fighting," I look over, and, sure enough, Sophie is yelling at Noah a little distance from the rest of the team, and Noah seems to have a murderous expression. Her mouth stops moving, and Noah stares Sophie down before telling her one sentence. Sophie then proceeds to cry out in frustration and turns away from him, telling Mrs. Hanson that she needs a break. Mrs. Hanson nods, and Sophie swiftly jogs to the gym while Noah walks back to his team. A couple of Sophie's plastic followers also ask for a break, most likely to console Sophie.
Belle and I share a glance, and I look out onto the field, aware of my surroundings but also lost in my thoughts. Belle sees the distant look in my eyes, and she sits on her knees next to me while I remain standing in silence. Around ten minutes later, Sophie and her group return, and Noah starts acting "normal" again by roughhousing with a couple of boys. But I can see easily through his façade; he's mad. I scoff in my head at his attempts to hide his emotions, since I've been practicing for years. He looks like he just started now. Poor thing, realizing that life isn't fair.
"What were they arguing about?" I ask Belle, who is now standing beside me while Mrs. Hanson gives us a few minutes to collect ourselves. Belle looks at me, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and replies.
"Well, according to Alex, who was standing near them while they were arguing, Sophie accuses Noah of looking too much at you, and she demands that he humiliate you," I keep my face passive, but I cannot keep the incredulity out of my voice when I question her.
"What?"
"That's not all. Also, according to Haley, who had seen them argue right before the game started, Noah thinks that Sophie is way too suffocating since she gets jealous of every female that he spares a glance toward. And you, my dear friend," she pauses, with a smirk on her face, "Are one of those females that he spares more than a glance toward, in fact, a little birdie says he has a crush on you." Half of my mind is in a whirlwind at this new information, while a quiet piece of my brain keeps my mask up and my actions calm. The remaining part of my mind concludes that if I ever confirm that Noah does in fact see me in any way other than a peer or enemy, I am going to become the personification of rage.
I quickly gather my thoughts. First off, it is highly unlikely that Noah even sees me as an equal, and the thought that he has a crush on me is most likely some kind of sadistic thought from Sophie's jealous mind. Secondly, if I find proof that he likes me in that disgusting way, I will have to start thinking of ways to murder him. Thirdly, right now is not the time to ponder over things like this; there's a competition going on.
"Belle, thanks for telling me," I say, my voice hardening. Her eyes turn toward mine, and I see a glimpse of fear. I must look frightening – my stone-cold mask, expressionless face, hardened voice, and a fire brewing in my eyes. "But do know that if I catch any proof of that statement, I. Will. Not. Hold. Back." She looks even more frightened, but a steely resolve hardens in her eyes after a few moments. She nods.
"And I will support you." With those five words, my trust in her deepens an inch, and we walk together, spines straight, back toward the playing field, where the teams are already setting up. Three more games go by, with two more solitary matches. The three main games we score goals, and the first solitary match – between Haley and Julie – we win. But the second solitary match – between Theo and Matt – we lose, since Theo is way too much of a jerk to compete against the popular crowd.
The score now is six to one, with us in the lead. The clouds had parted during one of the matches and the sun is out now. Belle, along with most of my classmates, is dripping with sweat and tired. Mrs. Hanson blows the whistle.
"Alright! Now, since almost all of you are burned out, we will have one last solitary match to end the game. Pick the least tired member from your group to represent you." There's no question about it. I am the least tired of the team. Heck, I'm not even breathing hard, I only have a slight sheen of sweat on my forehead, and I scored most of the goals, besides the solitary matches. Everyone points to me before sitting in the grass. I walk up to the center of the field and wait patiently, my back straight and face showing no expression, and I make sure not to fidget or move my limbs from the straight position they are in.
After about a minute, Noah walks to the center of the field, never once taking his eyes off me. He has a hitch in his breathing still, and his hair is damp with sweat. He fails to mask his anger and frustration, and a small part of me is still scoffing at him. Oh, today I was going to have a little fun. I tie my hair tighter, tucking it back in, watching him as his eyes followed the motions of my hair. A flower of anger blooms within me. No one, and I mean no one, could look at my hair like that. The anger grows as he smirks, a malicious glint in his eyes.
We shake hands, and he looks a little surprised at my strong grip. The feel of his hand in mine makes me want to retch, so I don't stretch out the contact, but I do not shy away or show any weakness. We both step back and stand facing each other with the ball in between us. Mrs. Hanson is busy wrapping someone's scratched knee, so I decide to poke at the bear a little.