(Callie POV)

Silence. There was not one sound in the room. It was the kind of quiet that rakes at your ears like nails on a chalkboard. It was the kind of silence that made the air feel thicker, colder; the kind of silence that made everything seem just a little emptier. It was something I've never gotten used to.

Most people think it's bad form to make a racket during a penalty kick, kind of like free throws in basketball. We're trained to believe that it's poor sportsmanship. We're taught that a noisy atmosphere will psych out the keeper. But when I stand on my line, staring down my opponent who's setting the ball down on the penalty mark, all of the commotion brings a new clarity to my mind. It's like having cool, fresh water splashed in your face, like a jolt to the system. The noise keeps me alive.

Growing up with my Cuban family, a little peace and quiet was never an option. When we were happy, we sang. When we were mad, we yelled. When we were sad, we cried away our sorrows. Loud was something tangible, something you could rely on. But quiet… Quiet was an entirely different monster in and of itself. It was volatile, had this sense of unknown. And that unknown; it'll always chill me to the bone.

The room was dim; one of the ceiling's fluorescent lights periodically flickered on and off, as if it too was unnerved by the tense atmosphere. The lockers towering over our heads were painted this shade of ashen grey, like the color had been drained right out. Still sweaty from our earlier drills, I planted my feet firmly on the ground so I wouldn't slip off the bench. I began to glance around the room nervously and bit my lip. As I looked forwards at the bench across from me, I found the root of my problems staring right back at me.

When my eyes met her baby blues, she pulled her head down quickly. Apparently her cleats are very interesting now that I caught her gawking at me… What's up with those damn shoes anyway? What kind of self-respecting soccer player actually goes out and buys neon-pink cleats? And at the professional level, too! Wait; is that a butterfly at the heel of her boot? Jeez, she brings perky to a whole new-

Addison elbowed me in the ribs and my head snapped up. Coach Webber cleared his throat and gave me a withering glare. "Ahem, Torres, I hate to break up whatever kind of stare down you're having with Robbins' cleats, but I think the future of this team might be more of a priority, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, bringing my gaze up to the livid man who was busy pacing around the room in a slow circle.

"Now, I would have never imagined that this team would let me down when I saw each of you step onto the field this evening. And when I watched your performance, your abilities, your skills, I saw a group of very talented, hard-working players in practice today. But if you young women behave like you did in the last five minutes of practice, that's all you'll ever be: players."

Webber took a deep breath and his voice lowered to almost a whisper: "Now, I've been a coach longer than most of you have been alive. I've seen teams with half as much talent rise to the top; these teams might not have had as many moves up their sleeves or some hotshot striker scoring hat-tricks every game, but they most definitely had something we don't have. Our problems are clearly not technical and they sure as hell aren't tactical. What we have are missing is a sense of team chemistry; we have become a lineup of stars and divas. If things continue to go this way, we will lose this tournament hands-down. Teams beat players. Every. Single. Time. And frankly, it's not my job to play babysitter for a bunch of prima donnas. I was going to let you all pick your own roommates, but clearly you all are not mature enough to handle this privilege right now."

Coach pulled out a scraggly notebook and flipped to a page filled with messy scrawl and eraser marks. He squinted his eyes in concentration and went on with his speech: "So here are the new living arrangements until I decide otherwise: Altman, you're with Montgomery; Torres with Robbins; Yang and Little Grey; Bailey go with Heron; Grey and Kepner; Adamson, you're with Thompson. I don't care if you absolutely despise each other; you will just have to make it work. Learn to coexist or kick the shit out of each other- I don't care. Either way, you will leave your personal lives at home and off of my soccer field."

At the end of the rant, Cristina looked up at Meredith with disbelieving eyes. The two were practically an inseparable entity of their own; the Twisted Sisters, Addison liked to call them. Even though Yang did get under my skin at practice today, I would never wish for them to have to part. The two friends have such an eerie connection that I feel like if the two divided, the universe would explode or something.

My eyes drifted away from the dreary duo over to Addison, who was right beside me. I scanned her face for a moment, trying to get a good read on her. Her mouth was twisted into a slight scowl. Her cheeks were a little pink, a telltale sign that something was bothering her. I brought my gaze up to her eyes. Of course she wore makeup to practice- only her. I shifted my focus to her eyes. I was staring at the light grey orbs that had rays of green forming a ring around her pupils when I saw something peculiar flicker behind them. Oh no, not that look. She's making 'Poor Callie' eyes at me. Great, like I need to feel any more pathetic than I am right now...

As I tore my eyes away from my best friend's pitying stare, I saw the back of Webber's head as he was walking out of the locker room. I jogged over to meet him and matched his quick pace. "Coach, with all due respect-"

"Torres, if this has anything to do with the new roommate situation, frankly, I don't want to hear about it. I don't know what's going on with you but I can't have it messing with my team. You're my captain and I need you to act like a role model. If that's too much for you to-"

"No, no sir. I'm sorry, you're right. It won't happen again." I interjected quickly.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Webber grunted, leaving me standing in the doorway. My eyes remained fixed on the wall ahead; my feet were rooted in place. My chest felt like it was constricting at an agonizingly slow pace. I struggled to get oxygen inside of me, as if my lungs were gradually filling up with cement. I shut my eyes tight, as if my eyelids could push away all the thoughts racing around in my mind.

"Excuse me." The clear voice sent shivers down my spine.

I shifted my head to face the brave soul that interrupted my thoughts. Arizona pulled her chin up defiantly and squared her shoulders, giving me her best "Don't fuck with me" look. The tension was so thick that I half expected tumbleweed to come rolling across the locker room floor like an old western movie. Piercing blue eyes locked with mine, staring me down almost like she was daring me to try to mess with her.

The entire thing might have been intimidating if she wasn't a good head shorter than I am. Plus, the way she's narrowing her eyes makes her nose crinkle up. Not exactly menacing, more adorable than anyth-

"Coño, ¡me prometí que no hiciera esto!*" slipped out of my mouth.

Her eyebrows sprang up and she let out an exasperated sigh. "What?"

"I, uh, it's nothing… Never mind."

Rolling her eyes, Arizona dropped her hand to her hip and said in an impatient voice, "Look, either tackle me to the ground again or move; this whole body blocking me from the door is getting old real fast."

Sucking in a mouthful of air, I took a tentative step backwards and leaned back on my heels awkwardly. "Look, I'm not saying we have to be best friends and braid each others hair or anything, but we're going to be living in the same space for awhile… so let's just take one for the team and coexist, okay?"

"Fine," she huffed, storming out of the room with her ponytail swinging angrily behind her.

I walked over to the nearby concrete wall and slumped down to the floor. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a muffled huff. Sticking to my word was going to be harder than I thought…

Shrill beeps cut through the silence, sending a prickly sensation up my ears. I took out my phone and flicked it open to the screen. One new message. I opened up the email and mumbled, "Seriously?"

Ladies,

I've decided that instead of holding practice tomorrow, you all will go out and explore the city with your new roommates. We need to concentrate on acting like a team if we want to have a chance at this. Bailing on this assignment is not an option. I'll see you all on Tuesday at the practice field.

-Coach Webber


* "Coño, ¡me prometí que no hiciera esto!" – Crap, I promised myself I wouldn't do this!

Thanks for reading! =)