Disclaimer: So, all the characters are ah-viously Lisi Harrison's, not mine. I especially don't own the description of Derrick's house; I stole that from It's Not Easy Being Mean. ;)
Dedicated to my own soccer boys, who literally invented bender, upper ninety strike, and beast mode and who generally inspire me. :)
"Dude, is that Kristen?" Derrick Harrington asked as he and his friends made their way across the soccer field. Josh Hotz lifted the brim of his New York Yankees hat and squinted in the direction Derrick had pointed, trying to discern if the toned blonde in the hot pink shorts was indeed Kristen Gregory, a member of the infamous Pretty Committee and star player of the OCD Sirens.
"Think so, man."
"I think she's the only girl here," Cam Fisher noted, causing his buds to look around.
"Dude, you're right!" Chris Plovert exclaimed. "You told us there would be chicks at this camp, Derrick!"
"I thought there would be," Derrick shrugged in response. After his messy break-up with Massie, he was looking forward to meeting new girls, preferably mature ones who actually had a shared interest with him: soccer. He had come to realize that all Massie cared about was shopping and the Pretty Committee, neither of which he was particularly interested in, thank you very much. He didn't know Kristen as well as he knew Massie, but he figured she was of the same mold. She was a member of the Pretty Committee, after all.
The boys reached the bleachers and dumped their bags in the grass. "Let's go shoot on goal while we're waiting for this thing to get started," Cam suggested, pulling a soccer ball out of his Tomahawks gym bag. The boys dribbled towards the goal, showing off and stealing the ball from one another.
Kristen watched them from her seat in the bleachers. They definitely looked like they were having more fun than anyone else at the camp, even if they were forbidden fruit. They were her best friends' ex-boyfriends after all. Well, except for Josh. Kristen suspected Alicia had never actually broken it off with the Ralph-Lauren-wearing soccer player despite her promise to Massie. Kristen sat for a minute, her overactive brain analyzing the situation. She could a) go have fun with the boys, or b) stay over here and ignore them. But even if she avoided them now, there was no way she could avoid them for the duration of the entire soccer camp. Eventually she'd have to talk to them. So why not start now? Her mind made up, Kristen rolled her ball out in front of her and started dribbling after them. The boys were taking turns shooting, while Derrick played goalie. They hadn't noticed her- or if they had, they were ignoring her. Kristen was many things--an athlete, a scholar, even a goody-two-shoes--but ignored was something she was most certainly nawt! She took a deep breath and swung her foot back. As it came into contact the ball was sent sailing in a perfect arc over the boys' heads and into the upper-left corner of the goal.
"Upper ninety strike!" Kemp Hurley cheered, and the boys turned around to see who had made that shot. A few yards away with a grin on her face stood Kristen. Yes, she was a member of the Pretty Committee. But she was also a member of the OCD girls' soccer team. And if there was anything soccer boys liked, it was soccer girls.
Derrick approached her, the other boys in tow. "Nice shot, Kristen," he said, giving her a high-give. "Though I probably could have blocked it if I was paying attention," he added with a cocky grin. The boys snickered, and Kristen rolled her eyes.
"You wish!" she laughed in reply and jogged to the goal to retrieve her ball from the net. Soccer camp was just getting better and better. And it hadn't even started yet.
-xo-
"I'm Coach Phillips," the British male introduced himself. At five foot seven, he wasn't exactly tall for a man, but it was more than made up for by his broad shoulders and muscular frame. Kristen guessed he played goalie.
"As I'm sure you all know, this is a two week long soccer camp. We will be working on basic skills, such as dribbling, shielding, shooting, and recovering." Kristen nodded; these were just the sort of things you usually worked on at soccer camps. Though normally hyper attentive, she found herself increasingly distracted by Derrington, who stood beside her. As the coach continued to talk, she gave Derrick a side-long glance. He had on his trademark shorts and a Tomahawks t-shirt. Shaggy blonde hair fell into his warm brown eyes. Looking at him, Kristen remembered why she and Dylan had fought over this boy for so long back in October. Just as she started to feel her crush returning, she told herself to snap out of it. He just broke up with Massie, Kristen scolded herself. Friends don't date friends' ex-boyfriends. No matter how ah-dorable they are.
"Now, I'd like for all defensive players to join Coach Ian. Offensive players, you're with Coach Lauren," Coach Phillips continued, gesturing to the college-age assistant coaches on either side of him. Ian sported spiky, bleached blonde hair and had electric blue eyes that were ah-viously the product of colored contacts. Lauren's auburn locks were tied back in a high pony and held in place with blue pre-wrap. Kristen would normally be threatened by someone who was the 3 T's- tall, tanned, and toned- but a squashed in pug nose managed to knock the assistant coach off the pretty list.
"What about goalies?" Derrick asked as players moved toward their assigned coaches.
"Derrick Harrington, I presume?" Coach Phillips asked, glancing down at his clipboard. Derrick nodded. "I used to be a goalie myself. How'd you like some one-on-one goalie training?" Kristen had been right, as usual.
"Sure, coach!" Derrick said, giving him an army salute. The boys snickered. Coach Phillips gestured for Derrington to follow as he made his way towards one of the goals. Derrick looked over his shoulder and gave a little butt wiggle, causing his friends to crack up. Kristen rolled her eyes but laughed along with them.
"Okay guys," Coach Lauren began, leading the group of offensive players towards the opposite goal. "Let's start with a simple shooting drill and see how good you really are." She split them up into four lines- one at each goal post and the other two opposite them.
"Star drill," Kristen noted, catching on.
"Huh?" Josh asked.
"It's like this," Kristen explained. "The line at the right goal post starts with the ball, They pass it to the person across from them, who passes it diagonally. Then it gets passed to the person across from them, who shoots."
"Easy enough," Josh nodded. "Which line are we in?"
"Shooting." As the drill progressed, it became clear that several of the boys at this camp weren't exactly star players. Josh, Kemp, Plovert, and Cam, however, were naturals. They made perfect shot after perfect shot, almost always accompanied with a shout of "Bender!" or "Upper Ninety!" It didn't take long for Kristen to catch on to their little code. Benders were Bend It Like Beckham balls- they curved into the goal. Upper Ninetys were any shots made in the upper corners of the goal. Kristen's shots were consistent, but not nearly as impressive as the boys'. I could learn a thing or two from them, she thought to herself as she watched Cam score an "Upper Ninety Strike." After twenty minutes of the drill, Coach Lauren called for a water break, and Kristen and the boys made their way over to the bleachers where they met up with Derrington.
"How goes the one-on-one training?" Kemp snickered.
"It's actually pretty cool," Derrick shrugged. "Coach Phillips knows his stuff.
"Coach's pet!" Cam coughed, his one-green-and-one-blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Derrick punched him, and soon the boys were all laughing and punching each other.
Kristen just sipped her Vitamin Water and grinned. These boys were just too fun to watch. Why had she ever agreed with Massie that a boy-fast was a good idea? She felt a pang of guilt as she remembered the pact with her friends, but quickly brushed that aside. She'd find some way to change Massie's mind later. Right now, she was perfectly content to forget about the New Pretty Committee and hang out with the soccer boys.
-xo-
A couple of hours later, after countless shooting and passing drills, Coach Phillips called everyone in. "Good work, everybody. I'll see you back here tomorrow morning at nine. If your parents are here, you can go."
"Bye, Kris," Cam waved as he headed for the parking lot where his brother Harris waited in his car.
"See ya, Gregory!" Kemp and Plovert shouted before piling into Mrs. Hurley's van. Kristen, Derrick, and Josh were the only ones still waiting on their ride. Josh was firing off text messages on his silver razr and Derrington was lazily dribbling his soccer ball as the three made their way across the field. Kristen walked in between them, reveling in how quickly the boys had accepted her as one of them, just because she knew her way around a soccer field. Now if only she could get over the butterflies in her stomach every time Derrick talked to her.
"Kristen?" Derrington suddenly stopped dribbling and turned to look at her, setting off the afore-mentioned butterflies.
"Yeah?" Kristen replied in what she hoped was a casual tone. Josh kept walking and texting obliviously. She figured he was texting Alicia and hoped to Gawd he didn't tell her that Kristen was at soccer camp with them. Alicia was the queen of gossip and would likely trade that juicy tidbit to Massie for gossip points. And Kristen would be ruined.
"Wanna come over tonight? I just got rock band, and Cam says he'll play drums but we still need a singer," Derrick said.
Well, if Kristen was going to be ruined, it might as well be for something good. "Sure!" Kristen smiled. "But I'm not much of a singer."
"I'll be the judge of that," Derrington winked and then jogged over to his mother, who had just pulled into the parking lot in a black Jetta.
"See you there!" Kristen shouted after him before spotting my own mother's car pull into the parking lot. Now, if only she could get her parents to agree to let her go.
-xo-
"Can I go over to a friend's house after dinner?" Kristen asked as she sat at the dining room table eating spaghetti and garlic bread with her parents.
"Which friend?" Mrs. Gregory asked. "I thought they were all out of town."
"Well, all the members of the Pretty Committee are. But um, I'm talking about a friend from soccer. Derrick Harrington."
"A boy?" Her mother was incredulous. "When have I let you go to a boy's house by yourself?"
"Other people will be there too!" Kristen insisted.
"Like who? More boys?" Mrs. Gregory snorted derisively.
"Calm down, Patricia," Kristen's dad spoke up. "Kristen has proved herself to be a very responsible girl. She'll be fine." Kristen smiled at her father, and he winked back at her.
"Fine, you can go," Mrs. Gregory relented. "But I expect you back by nine!"
"Thanks mom!" Kristen pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. "May I be excused?"
Her mother nodded and she ran down the hall to her bedroom to get ready. Thirty minutes later she was dumping her bike in Derrick's front yard and walking up to his front door. Derrick's home was one of those ultra-modern block shaped houses. Kristen didn't particularly like the style but as she lived in an apartment she figured she wasn't one to judge. Still, it was nothing compared to say, the Block Residence. She rang the doorbell and was greeted by who she presumed to be the maid, a thin Filipino woman with long black hair.
"You're here to see Derrick?" the woman guessed, and Kristen nodded. "Right this way." Kristen followed the maid down a long corridor lined with abstract paintings. At the end of the hall were two spiral staircases.
"He's in the basement," the woman said, gesturing down the stairs. Kristen nodded and started descending into the sound-proof basement. She entered the room just as the boys finished playing Juke Box Hero. Derrington waved her over and she sat herself on the couch opposite the plasma-screen HD TV. Derrick and Josh each cradled cordless guitar hero controllers and Cam, who had a drum stick in each hand, was seated behind what Kristen assumed was the drum set.
"Ready to sing?" Derrington grinned, holding out a microphone. Kristen snatched it away from him.
"Just one condition."
"What's that?" Cam asked.
"I get to pick the song." Kristen scrolled down the list of song titles until she came across one she actually knew.
"I got a lot to say to you, yeah I got a lot to sayyy," Kristen sang, feeling so foolish and self-conscious in front of the boys that she had to stifle a giggle. But listening to her voice over the microphone gave her courage; she actually wasn't half bad. All those years of church choir weren't for naught, after all! As the song continued, her confidence grew and soon she was really getting into it. "That never happens! I guess I'm dreaming again. Let's be more than... this!"
The song ended and their scores flashed on the screen. "Top Performer!" Kristen cheered.
"Total beast mode!" Cam agreed, leaning over to give her a high five.
"Let's see you try to play guitar on expert," Derrick grumbled, but Kristen ignored him. After that they played Dirty Little Secret by the All-American Rejects, Wonderwall by Oasis, and a Fall Out Boy song Kristen had never heard of but attempted to sing anyway. Before she knew it, it was time to go; Derrick volunteered to walk her to the door and they climbed the stairs side-by-side.
"That was fun," Kristen said, completely meaning it. Boys were so much more fun to hang out with than girls. They were just so... laid-back. Not catty or judgmental at all. They were pretty competitive, but then again, so was Massie.
"Yeah," Derrick agreed. "I don't know why we never hung out before."
Because you were always Massie's boyfriend?
Because you were never really interested in me?
Because I'm supposed to be on a boy-fast?
"Me neither," Kristen replied, knowing it was a far safer answer than any of the of the others running through her head.
"Well, see you tomorrow," Derrick said as they reached the door. He held his arms out for a hug goodbye and Kristen stepped into them, surprised both at the warmth of his body and at the shivers the hug sent down her spine.
"Bye!" Kristen turned and waved over her shoulder as she walked over to where her bike lay in the grass. She picked it up, hopped on, and pedalled furiously all the way home.
Of all the guys she could have fallen for, it had to go and be Massie Block's ex.
Sorry if any of the soccer lingo confuses you. I'm so familiar with it myself that I sometimes forget it's not as self-explanatory as I think it is. ;) So if you have any questions, ask away. And comments in general are always appreciated. :)