Here's an unexpected surprise, no? I've been working on this in secret. I know, I betrayed you guys not telling you... but that's the point of a surprise! It's just a bit more stuff about Andy and her family and things like that. These won't be submitted as often, but it's just something I thought would be interesting to write. I just hope you all think it's an interesting read.

I hope I didn't make her family to be to... 'out there', you know?

I disclaim all that isn't mine, and I hope you enjoy the story.

I could start this out with a joke of some sort, but I think I'll pass. I know why you're here and what you're here so, so lets get on with it, shall we? My name is Adeline Elane Val. Most know me as Andy. Most people know me as a soccer player, a sports star, or the girl who lets no one step on her. I wish I could say that's true. It isn't always because, sometimes, you have to let people step on you.

I was born in Atlanta, a big city full of big dreamers, where I was to become one of them. My mother was a stay at home mom, my father a soccer player. I was born November 13th. From what I was told, there was a horrible storm that night, or something, I'm not fucking sure. (Just in case you don't know, this will probably be full of swear words. Just a warning…) They were scared that something would happen, like the power would go out. However, I was born and everything was fine. It was just some rain and thunder, is all.

My mother, Melissa Lauster, was born in Ireland. Her dad, my grandfather, was part of the Marines. Chris and his wife, Malinda, were there for years, and they had her. I never met my grandparents, but from what I was told, they were strict, but understanding and loving. I suppose you should expect that from a military family. My father, on the other hand, was born in New York. My other grandfather, Jeff Val, was part of a mob, or something. No one knew who my grandmother on that side is, because my grandfather liked to… 'get around'. My father never knew his mother. All we know is that she had brown hair. So Jeff raised this new born baby, named Jonathan, by himself. He was always in danger, from what I hear. My father had to grow up watching his back all the time… that the sounds of gunshots were often his lullaby to go to sleep to. His only outlet of emotion was soccer.

So he played. He got good, so good that he was kicked off his team as a kid. They didn't want him on there because he wasn't giving other kids a chance to play, and that he made them all feel bad because he was so much better. My father and I have that in common.

My mother met my father when they were in high school. They both went to one in New York. Neither of them graduated. Jeff didn't like my mother, so they ran away together. They kept running until they got to Atlanta. They lived together. My mother was getting money being a waitress for a while, while he played soccer with a local semi-pro men's league. They were together, they were in love, and they were happy.

Once they were in their mid twenties, my mother told my father she was pregnant, with twins. He was so happy, from what I was told. He's always wanted a kid, a son to teach soccer to. However, only one of the twins survived… me. My parents were sad that only one of their children survived, but so happy that one was able to make it. They were told that the possibility of my survival was astronomically against me. So, they took me in their arms, and named me Adeline.

Adeline is French. It means 'Noble', which is the opposite of what I acted like, or even was. I felt for a while that I was a disappointment to my dad. That he wanted a son to teach soccer to, not a daughter. I thought he thought that I was just going to be a prissy girl who played with dolls and wanted to have tea parties, and I thought that's what he wanted me to be. He wanted me to be noble, like a princess. I was just never like that, nor will I ever be.

My mother quit her job to stay at home with me. She was always with me. My first memory is of her. I was about four and I fell and my head hit the coffee table. I had a cut that was small, and went through my eyebrow. Even today there's still a scar. I remember her freaking out. She was so scared, she hates the sight of blood. She cleaned my cut, put a bandage over it, kissed my forehead, and told me that I should be more careful, that mommy worries about me being too reckless.

Someone should go back in time and tell her not to watch that game where my head was busted open and I got my head stapled shut. She was spot on about the whole 'reckless' thing.

Once I started school, I made my first friend. She had pretty blonde curls and was just such a girly girl. She was opposite of me in almost every way. Her name was Amber Hangler. We became friends the second day of school. The teacher asked everyone what they wanted to be when they grew up. Some said fire men, others say the same old average answer. Amber said she wanted to do charity work. To go to other countered and help people, and help people here too, by volunteering her time at soup kitchens and building houses. Everyone admired her for her wanting to help others, even myself. I admire anyone who dreams big.

When it came to me, I said I wanted to be a professional soccer player, like my father. He was one playing for a team in Atlanta. He traveled a lot, he was happy, and he was amazing… who wouldn't want to be like that? I wanted to see the world and play a sport that I've fallen in love with. I wanted to have that close companionship with a team. I wanted to win, for the world to know me.

I was laughed at. Girls said that was stupid, the boys said it's no place for a girl, and the teacher said that sports are a man's world, not one for a woman. I was so furious. I told the teacher that people thought a women's world was at home, but she wasn't there either. I told her she had no right to say things to me like that, that none of them did. A boy stood up, I think his name was Mike… he stood up and told me 'bitches don't play sports, they're too stupid'.

So I punched him. Everyone started to yell at me and the teacher told me to go to the principal's office. Amber got up, took my arm gently, and walked me out the room. Once we were down the hall, she laughed, saying that they were all idiots and that my dream was a great one, and that she believed in me. Our friendship started that day. She was the calm to my crazy. She was the gentle to my recklessness. She was the one who thinks before actions and I'm the one who acts first then thinks later. She lived by the saying 'patience is a virtue' and that being calm is better than acting out. I was the one who thought it's better to ask forgiveness than permission… and that if I needed to knock someone some sense, I would do it.

Her and I were inseparable. She had talents that I could never dream of. She could draw very well, even the faces of people by the time she was seven. She was the best friend I could ever ask for. We spent many days working at helping clean parks in the morning and playing soccer at night. She watched my Dad and I practice, hours and hours of practice, and she never got bored. She was, and still is, my biggest fan. Her family had a ranch. Her mother was a doctor and her father died when she was a kid, so I never knew him. We played in the grass, took care of horses, and even learned to ride. I loved the country, being there with her. It was so open and free. Her grandfather is what many would call a 'redneck'. He shoots his own food and uses the entire animal. He taught me how to fish, how to shoot, and things like how to skin a deer. I still remember all of those things. I was too impatient for fishing, but just like Amber, he was always patient with me. Amber was my best friend. She was the only person who ever saw the softer side to me, other than my parents. We watched Disney movies together, we sang along to the radio… we did anything that girls from the ages of five to the ages of nine would do. She was the first person other than my family that I trusted completely.

So, on that day, I was a wreck. We were walking home from school. She saw a homeless man on the side of the road, skinny as he can be and hungry. So, she ran over and gave him some money she earned. She was smiling and happy to do so. It wasn't much money, about ten dollars, but she was happy about giving it away. On her way back, someone turned and sped down the street. They didn't seem to care that there was a girl walking at the cross walk. They hit her, and kept going. I stood there, in shock. People screamed, someone even shoved me out the way to get to her, but I just stood there, with tears streaming down my face. I was taken with the ambulance. I was forced to wait in a white room, with magazines littered everywhere. I was never one to wait, and this made it even worse. I wanted to see my best friend. I wanted to hug her and tell her everything will be alright, that I'm here for her and I'll fight the son of a bitch who did it to her. To this day, I would probably kill that man with no hesitation.

My parents and her mother and grandfather got there. My mom hugged me and my father and Miss. Hangler were arguing with the people at the desk, trying to get information. I just sat there, staring at the wall. My mind was just replying what happened over and over and over. It was then I could understand why my mom didn't like the sight of blood.

A few minutes later, we were told she died. I had to watch someone who is like my second mother cry so hard. My mom was hugging her, and they both fell to their knees and cried together, one for morning the loss of their child, the other, for watching a friend suffer like that.

My father went to me, tears were in his eyes as he just put an arm around me. Then I did the only thing that seemed logical.

I ran.

I burst through the doors, my father chasing after me. He was faster than I was, but it was easy for me to navigate the sea of people. Tears burned in my eyes as I chocked back sobs and I kept running. My mind didn't know where I was going, I was just going. I never knew how bad it would hurt to lose someone, but to see it happen… it haunted me for the rest of my life. I should have walked over there with her. I should have ran over there and tackled her out the way. For a long time, I truly believed that it was my fault. Her blood was on my hands because I didn't do anything to stop it. That it was my fault.

I stopped at the park. I went until I was standing in a soccer goal, my chest thundering and my eyes now completely leaking of tears. I fell to my knees and cried like I never have before. No one was there, so I felt no shame in doing it. My father got there a few seconds later. He fell to his knees next to me and held me tightly. Amber was like another daughter to him. My father was the only father figure in her life, and he knew that. I know that that, combined with seeing me like that… it was almost unbearable for him. He cried with me and we stayed like that for hours.

At her funeral, I was the only one not crying. I placed a sunflower on her grave. Those were her favorite flowers… mine was the only sunflower up there. For days, I didn't speak. I barely ate. All I did was play soccer, and even that I didn't put my heart into. It hurt me so badly. I felt guilty, so guilty I felt sick. It took me weeks to act normally.

So I was pretty much alone in the world. I hadn't made another friend like that for years, until after I turned pro. I was too scared that they would leave me. I didn't want to feel that kind of pain ever again, so I just made it so I didn't. I spent my time doing things like video games, reading, and things that most people would say would make me a nerd. My parents were the only friends I had. They were all I needed in my mind. No one else but my parents, because they understood me, and they got me, and they loved me for who I am. They didn't want me to be someone I wasn't.

Middle school was a breeze. I got thought it with a few B's, but never any A's. I just didn't try as hard as others, and that honestly didn't bother me at all. High school was a different story. I had to keep my grades up there to play soccer. So I did. The rest of the team didn't like me, said I was too brash and cold. I was and still am too strong willed for some people. Too reckless, too angry, to everything, it seemed. No one wanted to be friends with me. My coach said it was because I was too good at soccer, and they were just jealous. I was the only freshman to make the varsity team since the school was made. They didn't like me, even thought we are a team, and on the field, we acted like one, but off, they wanted nothing to do with me. I was fine with that, because I honestly didn't give a shit if anyone liked me or not. It's never bothered me. No one has to like me, and I understand that a good portion of the people won't, so I honestly expected that.

I just didn't know how alone I was, until one of the only 'friends' I had left was taken from me.