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It’s been a week since Misty joined the team, not as a player; she had her face burnt red and meekly accepted her fate that she didn’t make the cut, despite learning so much about soccer.
Such things as the formations, the passes that were more probable to end in success, and all the instances where offside and fouling were brushed over for the good flow of the game. Her physical stamina and coordination can be practiced and improved, with more than running across her parents’ house's huge backyard, but that didn’t matter, and the Coach deemed her only good to be a water carrier, or rather, an equipment manager.
Regardless, she still does her best! Guessing what the team needs to really squeeze all the chances they got on their drills and scrimmages.
They still at that stage of making them play together five-to-five as a way to understand strengths and weakness, some girls hit off immediately, other discuss what their positions actual duties are, determining the boundaries and how much can they get away with, for example the expanse of the midfield if they are they should be all the way back, or rather why Palmer is leaving her post all the time to yell and flirt.
By the end of most practices, they are all beaten up and groaning at the captain's cheer-ups, and they reluctantly accept the directions of the adults just to bad mouth them at the locker room.
“Uhm, but she is right! You play well but still need so polis—”
“And who the fuck are you?”
“Come on, Mari,” the goalie groans.
Misty grimaces a smile and is ready to retreat, but a blonde interjects first:
“Oh, she’s the reject, right?”
“Shorty can talk? Out of place, though,” the first girl barks back, apparently adamant to maintain the social hierarchy she made up of the team.
“Her name is Melissa.”
“I mean, it is not like somebody asked for her opinion…,” a tall girl adds, turning around immediately, not entertaining the commentary any further.
Not when the other girls are already squaring up.
“Okay, that’s enough!” the team captain claps her hands, to some grumbling, “We are gonna be late,” she states with such confidence that they all shut up.
She is the first to leave, a line-up of all chatty girls behind her, out of the locker, and forgetting the whole talk, Misty included.
Or so she thought.
A couple of days later, she is intercepted in the halls.
“Hey, wait up,” the cheery voice is easy to pinpoint, and Misty braces herself. “You are Quigley, right?”
“Yes! And you are Jacqueline Taylor, buzz buzz!”
Jackie laughs, throwing her lustrous hair to the side before beaming at her, “Yeah, buzz! You can call me Jackie, btw.”
“Your friends do.”
“Yeah,” Jackie chuckles again, and Misty feels her heart skip, the pitfall she was expecting to fall over from being acknowledged by the Queen B…Wasp, isn’t there, although she feels a bit faint. “Look, I feel you, I want to do something for the next match, to cheer us up, a team building exercise.”
“And…you want my help?” Misty squeaks out, her smile about to split her face.
Jackie grabs her by her shoulders, voice dropping suddenly, "No, I need your help.”
“Tell me,” Misty whispers back, her whole body tingling at the prospect of being in cahoots with somebody in the team, and Jackie Taylor no less.
In hushed tones, she begins to tell her the plan, even when Misty catches some glares from the other girls waiting for Jackie to stop her social charity work, she promises to follow her every instruction to the T.
“I got my mom to buy…”
Next match is hard and incredibly mediocre, all things considered. Just another high school game with mumbling and sweating girls who try to prove themselves, and the whole crowd that women's soccer has a future, because some things have to be repeated ad nauseam or else they forget how the women’s national team is sweeping European teams in friendlies.
Nevertheless, they try, they give their best, and they win the game to the bemusement of many families.
On the uproar and smallish celebrations, a high-pitched voice rises above, calling over the team and families to the party cart she wheels in.
“Buzz buzz! Yes! We did it!”
The Yellowjackets stare baffled, some of them snicker, even. Misty pays no mind, she has on good conscience that Jackie wouldn’t humiliate her like this, not when she announces it is her idea, after all.
Her whole outfit, gold and blue, similar to what the cheerleaders wear but distinct and modest enough to make her feel safe over the bike-cart, made her feel pampered and pretty; the makeup helped, the little bee coming from her glasses onto her cheek a whimsical detail that she is grateful Jackie took the time to perfect.
“What is she doing?”
Misty whistles from her place, carrying off the cart full of ice cream, lollipops, syrups, and cones. She steps all proud in front of it, some of the crowd clap and laugh, and the team starts to swamp Misty.
“What are we, twelve?”
“Wait, I want some.”
“Is there chochochip?”
“Mint chocolate!”
“This is so corny.”
“It’s free, idiot.”
Between jabs and chuckles, they help themselves, all grinning and chatting, still ignoring Misty despite her elation at sharing this victory with them. Silently, she steps out of the hubbub, trusting Jackie to direct them better with her assured smile and cheeky remarks.
The small party breaks out, families gather, onlookers scoop some of the random flavors, and as quickly as it starts, the crowd thins out again, and Misty occupies herself with picking up what they left in its thrall.
“Ugh, don’t tell me you are working right now.”
“Oh, hi, well, yeah, ” Misty laughs nervously. Jackie takes away the bag with a tiny smile.
“You’ve done well, relax.”
Misty tries to continue what is more or less her job within her whole plan, but Jackie just encircles her, makes her spin, and pushes her onto the grass.
“I didn’t do anything, actually,” Misty huffs and puts her glasses in place again.
“Did you at least watch the game?” Jackie clicks her tongue against her teeth, about to chastise her, but then she sighs. “I messed up one of Nat’s kicks, it was beautiful, center-head-goal, but no. It didn’t happen. We still won. Sometimes, small stuff comes a long way. Sometimes they don’t, we still a team. That includes you, too.”
“You're the only one that thinks that,” Misty mumbles.
“It’s a start, they’ll come around, don’t worry.”
Maybe Jackie says something else, but it doesn’t reach Misty, a familiar dread tries to rattle her heart, of course, no matter what, she is not welcomed, even with thee Jackie Taylor vouching for her. She feels her eyes tear up, her lips quiver, and she just wants Jackie to leave her alone so she can, at the very least, be useful picking up the garbage.
“Hey, hey, what’s wro—”
“Just go with your friends.”
“But I wanted us to be friends, Misty.”
“You don’t mean that…”
“Of course I do, that’s why I saved this,” she waves an ice cone in front of her, already melting over her fingers. She passes the cone to Misty’s hands. “It’s this special flavor, like white chocolate dipped in dark chocolate with caramel and cookies, it is amazing.”
Misty sniffles and tries it; kitty licks over the top. “Oh, that’s so sweet!” she squeals.
“I know, right? Just like you,” Jackie winks and Misty sputters some 'thank yous' with her face all hot.
Jackie’s laugh always sounds like wind chimes, harmonious and too pretty, and it doesn’t even feel like she is mocking her, so Misty is free to laugh too and enjoy the treat.