DEDICATED TO: myshkaful, Emma-Kate9885, Erin319, and Love My Writing Or Else! I just love your reviews. They're always so great. =D

Someone asked if I'm actually on my highschool team, since apparently I'm very naive in soccer lingo. In response to that, I'm not in high school. Yes, I play on my school team, but I'm not in high school yet.

(I haven't done one of these in awhile, have I?) Disclaimer: I was in this honors band thing on Friday, so I had like half an hour of free time sitting on my trumpet case in a hallway filled with random kids I didn't know. Naturally, I pulled out my iPod and started writing School Days!

Btw, pooch means a low corner shot to any non-soccery people. =P I'm not even sure if it's the proper term, but that's what my coach calls it. -shrug-

Victoria sprinted forward and slammed into the Flare forward, causing the ball to start ricocheting indefinitely between the girls' feet. I couldn't help but just stand and watch as Victoria pulled a sudden, beautiful maradona and whirled away from the forward. She ran down the middle, moving so quickly and gracefully that she appeared effortless as she juked another defender.

"Wow," I murmured to myself, hurrying to catch up to Victoria. "That girl is fancy."

Unfortunately, fanciness alone couldn't get Victoria all the way up the field. She passed off to her fellow forward, Chloe, who touched the ball just once before passing right back to Victoria in a neat wall pass.

While the Downpour forwards obviously knew what they were doing, the Flare defense were no amateurs either. Their sweeper, a tall girl with a long, tightly braided brown ponytail, crashed into Victoria and came away seconds later dribbling the ball. She carried it forward a few steps, then sent a powerful through ball into the space between Flo and I. A Flare midfielder, number thirteen, darted towards the ball and successfully reached it before Flo or I could get there. For whatever reason (probably 'cause I'm an abnormally possessive child) the only thought that ran through my mind as I sprinted after her was that the girl had my Lynxes number.

She must pay.

I sped up, slightly changing direction to run at the best angle to get to number thirteen quickly. As I closed in on her though, the girl started drawing the ball to her right foot. Without thinking, I zeroed in on that foot, and lunged to kick the ball away from her.

Then she pulled the most beautiful double scissors I had ever seen anyone do, completely juking me and cutting to her left.

I skidded to a stop, vaguely feeling the inside of my cleats burn my heels as I tried to change direction after Thirteen. Frankly, I was lucky I even stayed on my feet at that point. Only my cleats dug deep into the grass and the most focused balancing (read as: flailing my arms around in a pathetic attempt to stay standing) I could summon up kept my butt from kissing dirt.

When I had finally caught myself properly, Thirteen was still streaking down the field, Flo hot on her tail. Thirteen cut around Garnet at first, but when she tried to force her way further down the line, Garnet easily poked the ball away from her. Thirteen stumbled, scrambling wildly to regain possession as Garnet dodged around her and darted towards the ball. She settled it under her left foot for half a second, then sent a powerful pass to Flo up the line. Flo turned with the ball, carrying it with her until a Flare midfielder started to challenge her. Instantly, with a smooth calmness that I envied, Flo crossed the ball high over the Flare defense to a waiting Downpour player- Jojo. Jojo only paused to settle the ball again before sending it up the left side directly to Sheila, who was already running up in anticipation for the pass.

The Downpour worked like a well-oiled machine, and here I was messing up the rhythm in the first five minutes.

I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of my pity party as I hurried back up the field. Sheila was a fast runner, and by the time I caught up to the play she was attempting a shot on goal. The ball sailed powerfully from her left foot, aiming for the top right corner of the goal. My eyes tracked the shot as it flew over everyone's heads, arcing gracefully towards the net.

Then it was plucked from the sky by a pair of black gloved hands, cradled instantly to the body of the Flare goalie. "Go Jenna!" One of the Flare forwards shouted behind me. "Nice save!"

The goalie, Jenna I guess, flipped her dark brown ponytail and trotted out to the edge of the goalbox. The Downpour all retreated, backpedaling almost to the half line. It was obvious they knew this goalie had a big boot. I hurried back a little further, keeping my eyes on Jenna as she surveyed the field.

Then, with a single fluid motion, Jenna stepped forward and dropped the ball to her right foot. It seemed to rocket off of her cleat, soaring at least eighty feet and traveling quickly. Time seemed to slow down as the ball climbed rapidly upwards, and started to descend.

My eyes were locked on the ball- it was heading straight for me, but from the way it was angled in the drop I could tell it was going over my head. Instead of trying to backpedal crazily and just end up tripping over myself, I turned to the side so I was in an open stance facing the sideline. Now I could help whoever got the ball, instead of standing with my back turned to them like a wall.

My prediction proved correct when the ball flew high over my head, dropping to an abrupt halt under a familiar bright green cleat.

"Go Ella!" Nudge shrieked. "Cassie's open!"

My sister ignored Nudge's instruction, carrying the ball forward instead of passing off to Cassie. She darted around a Flare midfielder, only to Croif suddenly back a moment later to slam a hard, sure pass to Jojo. Jojo trapped the ball and burst off down the side with it, Sheila trailing about ten yards behind her for backup.

Even my sister was excelling here, while I was busy tripping over my own feet. I gritted my teeth, clenching my fists and surging back up the field to support the play.

Jojo had made it to the goal box, and was one on one with the Flare sweeper- that girl with the long braided ponytail. Jojo slowed down slightly, her eyes locked on the sweeper's as she quickly tried to think up a way through to the goal.

Unfortunately, Jojo waited a little too long. Within seconds, two other defenders had reached Jojo and the sweeper, making it three on one: not exactly a fair match. One of the new defenders lunged forward and smashed the ball away from Jojo's feet. It sailed high in the air, flying out of the goal box. That defender had a pretty big boot.

It was just a stroke of bad luck for her that the ball ended up directed straight at me. Here was a chance to redeem myself for being juked by Thirteen, and I wasn't about to waste it. I tracked the ball's descent through the air, stepping backwards and a little to the left to make sure I was square in front of it. The ball hit me directly in the chest, and I caved in slightly to allow for the impact. It dropped lightly to my feet, and I was instantly dribbling back towards the box.

The Flare defense was quick though, and I was forced to pass off to Flo after only five or six steps. Flo didn't even pause to settle the ball, instead one-touching it in a high arcing cross to Victoria. She trapped it on her thigh and darted forward, ramming past the sweeper and back into the goal box. Instead of taking the shot though, Victoria sent a quick pass to Chloe, who pounded it swiftly to the far corner of the goal. Jenna dove, but her black gloves only scraped the very edge of the ball as it rocketed into the net. Chloe pumped her fist in victory, slapping a high five with Victoria and jogging back towards the midline. Jenna just lay on the grass, her arms still outstretched and her head craned to stare at the ball spinning in the back of the net.

"Nice play! Nice play!" Christie yelled from the sideline. "Good job, Downpour!"

"So you're a play starter," Flo observed, suddenly falling into step with me as we jogged back to center up.

"What?" I asked, momentarily confused.

Flo flashed me a grin. "A play starter," she repeated. "The type of player who settled her team down and reminds them to make plays instead of running around aimlessly."

I grin back, bumping shoulders with her before we separated to our starting positions. "I guess I am," I murmured. I can't say I didn't like the idea. "Nice shot, Chloe," I called up to the forward who had scored.

She turned and smiled at me, giving me a thumbs up sign. "Thanks," she replied. "Good work setting it up for me."

My grin widened. "Thanks," I repeated. The Downpour seemed like a pretty chill group of girls so far. As far as I could tell, no one was a super diva— or maybe their divas just weren't present today. Whatever the reality, I was liking this core team.

Thirteen settled the ball back on the line, instantly snapping me out of my musings. The game wasn't even half over, and I still needed to focus. I could make friends later.

The ref blew his whistle, the Flare forwards tapped the ball forward, and the game restarted.

Time passed by in a flurry of plays and fouls on both teams. I quickly discovered who the girl named Emmie was —the one Flo and Garnet had been talking about at the beginning— and why they believed her to be menstruating. She was small and blonde and deceptively innocent, but had no qualms about shoving and grabbing and cussing out the entire Downpour in one breath. Luckily for us, her deceiving appearance didn't save her from getting called for four fouls in the first half. It seemed that the ref was wise to dear Emmie's tricks.

Phew.

A few minutes after we had restarted, Chloe had a rather large disagreement with the Flare goalie. Jenna had made the mistake of trying to tackle her legs as Chloe prepared to shoot, and got a cleat to the chin and a ball to the forehead for her trouble. The ball went bouncing off wildly towards the sideline while Chloe flailed through the air, her feet knocked from under her. It was Jenna's bad luck that Chloe managed to land on the goalie's ribs, digging and elbow into her stomach as she did so.

Chloe clutched her ankle, rolling weakly off of Jenna and lying on her back as the goalie wheezed helplessly into the grass. The ref screeched on his whistle, running over to check the damage.

Chloe sat up, rubbing her ankle vigorously and rotating it carefully. She stood up after a moment, and although she winced slightly at her first step, she seemed to be perfectly fine.

Jenna, on the other hand, was not so fine. Her black gloves were clasped over her face, and she was tightly curled into the fetal position. Her shoulders were racking up and down as she took a deep, shuddering breath, and it looked to me like she was crying.

I couldn't really blame the girl. Goalie is a hard position, and Jenna had just met with one of the dangers of the job.

The ref bent down over Jenna, speaking softly to her as she lay there. The field went silent, everyone's eyes on the prone goalie. Abruptly, the ref straightened, signaling for the Flare coach to come out. He sprang off the Flare's bench and jogged quickly over, a look of concern etched onto his face. The coach knelt beside Jenna, putting a hand on her shoulder and talking quietly just as the ref had done. Jenna rolled over and tried to sit up, her gloves still clasped over her face. The coach gently pulled Jenna to her feet, supporting her with one arm as he motioned to a platinum blonde girl on the bench with another. "Ref, I'd like a goalie change," he requested, already leading Jenna over to the sideline.

The ref nodded. "Of course," he replied instantly. We all watched as Jenna stumbled off the field, her gloves never leaving her face as the Flare coach guided her to the bench. The replacement goalie ran onto the field, this one wearing a bright purple jersey and yellow gloves. As soon as the blonde girl had settled herself in the goal, the ref glanced over at Chloe, who had limped over to confer with Victoria. "Are you okay, miss?" he asked, eyeing her ankle.

Chloe shrugged. "I'm fine," she confirmed. "I can still play."

"Alright then, let's continue. Player, roll the ball to the goalie and we'll restart with her dropkick," the ref directed. 'Player' was Chloe, and the Flare defender who had retrieved the ball passed it to her. Chloe nodded once, passing the ball softly to the goalie and starting to backpedal out of the box. The goalie grabbed it immediately, turning the ball over in her yellow gloves as she brought it to the edge of the penalty box and dropkicking it out.

It was kind of disappointing, actually. Jenna had an amazing dropkick that I had been forced to admire, but this backup barely kicked the ball thirty feet. Wow.

I let go of the thought and continued to play. I couldn't afford to be distracted. After all, I was still trying out for the team.

I'm not sure exactly when after the goalie incident that it happened, but somewhere in the steady flow of play, while the ball constantly changed possession, I decided to try and break the current.

Emmie and Thirteen were passing their way down the left inside, giving the already winded Jojo a hard time as they did so. I picked up speed as I cut across the middle to assist her, reaching a little into my reserves of stamina. It was a pretty hot day, we had no subs to speak of, and the Flare had four extra girls sitting on their bench. So basically the Downpour were all winded, including Ella and I. Frankly, it kinda sucked.

But soccer is all about stepping up the play when you want to flop down and complain, so that's exactly what I did.

I kept a steady eye on the ball, watching it flicker between Emmie's blue cleats and Thirteen's white ones. Jojo's own black and silver cleats strained to keep up with the two Flare midfielders, but it was obvious she was tired from making her millions of break aways. I hurried over, shooting in front of the ball and watching as it rolled patiently between Thirteen's scuffed white cleats.

My first attempt to help Jojo didn't end up so well. Thirteen tapped the ball between her toes as I carefully approached, keeping wary and light on my feet. I did not relish the idea of being tricked by her again today.

Unfortunately, tricked was how I ended up. Seconds later, Thirteen pulled the same scissors move from before. I saw it coming, I swear— yet for some inexplicable reason, I fell for it again. She passed off to Emmie, and Jojo was left to gather up her strength and try to fend her off.

Anger started bubbling in my chest. Why could this girl mess with me so easily? I almost never fell for the same move twice, and almost never the same move pulled by the same person. I will admit I'm not perfect, but I tend to have a good instinct when it comes to pulling moves. Anybody I had ever played with would vouch for that… so why was I falling for this girl's fancy little scissors move now?

Okay, so now I was pissed.

As soon as I thought this, my mind clicked into hyper drive mode. It was as if my anger was helping to clear my senses instead of clouding them. I could suddenly feel every drop of sweat coating my nose, every hair blowing over my eyes, every stitch of my borrowed uniform. A wave of clarity washed over me, bringing strength back into my limbs as I did so. A slight breeze picked up, caressing my sweaty neck and cooling off my heated face. I smiled.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I like to call a second wind.

I sped up, targeting the ball at Emmie's feet. She was focused on keeping it out of Jojo's reach, and didn't notice I was approaching until it was too late. Thirteen let out a warning shout to her team mate, but it didn't save Emmie from getting the ball roughly revoked by none other than yours truly. I pulled the ball back out of Emmie's reach, dribbling it back up the field in the right direction.

Thirteen blocked my path, a grim look on her face as she focused her gaze on the ball under my own gold cleat. Switch of positions much? Less than a minute ago Thirteen had been standing like I was now, with me staring fervently at the ball in her possession.

I have to say I prefer this scenario more.

More than anything, I needed revenge on Thirteen. Revenge for juking me twice, and for stealing my number (maybe I should have cut her some slack considering she obviously didn't know it was my number… nah, I prefer to feel possessive and wronged).

So what was a better move to pull than Voldemort's Revenge?

I had practiced this move for hours when Fang taught it to me, ingraining the motions into my muscle memory until I literally performed the move in my sleep. I woke up sprawled on the rug, tangled in bed sheets and with an aching right hip from striking the floor. This meant that I could now pull a Voldemort's Revenge as easily as I could do a simple pull back. That 'whole Practice makes perfect' jazz actually has some reality in it.

Who knew?

As I stepped over the ball in the first part of Voldemort's Revenge, Thirteen shot at my left foot, almost tripping me before I whirled around in the other direction to continue the move. Thirteen went flying past me, and the end of her ponytail actually whipped my cheek as she tried unsuccessfully to turn around again. "What the hell?" she muttered. I grinned, finishing the move in triumph and spinning to dribble away. Revenge is sweet. Especially Voldemort's Revenge.

Oh, how I amuse myself. I smirked as I ran away, leaving Thirteen confused and angry behind me.

Wind rushed against my face, roaring in my ears as I beat against it to get to the Flare's goal. I could see Flo out of the corner of my right eye, and Sheila flanking me to the left. Victoria backpedaled swiftly among the Flare defense, her eyes on me as she maneuvered through their ranks, and Chloe was curving around the right sideline. It was show time.

The ball flitted between me and the rest of the Downpour offense as we advanced steadily towards the goal. It seemed like we were always flowing into the right spots: just the right place to receive a pass, the exact position to support the play. It was beautiful to be a part of, and we could tell Christie agreed from her vehement shouts of approval from the sideline.

Then Victoria had the ball inside the box, plowing straight through an outside Flare defender to get there. The sweeper blocked her, hazel eyes glittering with defiance as she faced off with our forward. Victoria didn't skip a beat, passing back to Flo. Flo received the pass well, but instantly shoved it off to me instead of taking a shot.

Why were we messing around like this in the goal box? My old coach had drilled it into our eleven-year-old heads that as soon as we passed the outer lines, we were supposed to shoot, shoot, shoot. He made it stick so much that it became automatic response to shoot the second we entered the goal box— so why couldn't these fourteen-year-old girls do the same?

I looked up for a moment, my eyes locked on the bleach-blonde goalie. Then, before the Flare defense could react and pressure me, I shot the ball in a hard, low pooch to the corner. The goalie dove, her yellow gloves flailing wildly for the ball as it skidded along the uneven grass. It was going in- I knew that as certainly as my own name. The ball was too low for her to get a hold of easily, and this was their back up goalie, anyway. She had already proven to us that she wasn't as good as the other one with her weak thirty footer of a punt and several fumbles and mistakes when she saved shots from Chloe, Sheila and Victoria earlier. It was goal number two for sure.

Then the ball bounced over a divot in the grass and flew straight into the goalie's waiting hands. She lay there, arms stretched over her head and gloves grasping the ball. There was the most startled look on her face, as if she couldn't believe that the ball was in her hands instead of nestled in the back of the net where it should have been. Slowly, the girl sat up and got to her feet, trotting to the edge of the goal box to punt it out.

Unbelievable.

I stood there like an idiot, utterly thrown by the fact that the damn field itself had just intervened and thwarted my goal.

"Shake it off, Max!" I heard Flo yell from somewhere to my right. "This field likes to fight back!"

Flo's voice worked in booting me out of my shock, but now I was just plain pissed again. "I hate grass fields," I growled, hurrying to run back down the field. The stupid goalie had the guts to grin and wave at me as I passed her. "Nice try, hotshot. Let's see you make the Downpour now," she sneered at me.

So she knew I was only trying out. The two teams did seem to know each others' players abnormally well, so I guessed this was normal.

But her comment still ticked me off.

I glanced over at the refs to check if anyone was looking, only to find that all of them were watching the play further down the field. Satisfied with this, I turned and flipped off the goalie. "Don't let one save get to your head," I advised her sweetly. "I'll be back soon- don't wait up for me dear." And with that, I poured on the speed and raced back towards the ball.

When the ref's whistle blew for half time, we all trooped back over to the sideline. Christie was waiting for us at the blue Downpour fold-out bench, tapping a clipboard and bearing an eerily similar resemblance to Anne.

I swear that I will track down their coach and find out how she managed to brainwash them do thoroughly.

"Good job, girls," she greeted us, smiling as we all collapsed over our bench. Fang was the only one sitting there, and he did his half-smile thing at me as I flopped beside him. "Great effort out there. Now get some fluids in you, it's a strangely hot day." No one complained at this order, each girl digging through their bags and producing some sort of water bottle. Christie stood over he us as we sipped slowly at our drinks, chatting and complaining about various fouls and actions of the Flare players.

"Did you see Kayla's foul on me? That was totally purposeful, and the ref just watched like nothing happened!"

"I know Chlo, don't worry about it. I'll beat up Kayla next chance I get."

"Thanks Tori. You're the best."

"Emmi is so on her period it's not even funny. She literally growled at me! A full on growl!"

"That's just creepy Garnet."

"I know, right?"

"Well Joan freaking backhanded me in the eye! I couldn't see out of it for like, two minutes!"

"I saw that! The ref was three feet away and didn't say a word!"

"These refs kinda suck. A lot."

"Girls, girls! Calm down!" Christie yelled, instantly quieting all eleven of us at once. "You know all too well that the Flare likes to push," she lectured, looking specifically at the two forwards who had been complaining. Then a mischievous smile crept onto her face, and Christie added, "You just have to push back."

While Christie continued to talk, Fang nudged me gently. "How are you liking the Downpour?" he asked quietly.

"I like the Downpour, but I dislike Thirteen on the Flare," I announced between sips of Gatorade.

Fang smirked. "I noticed," he replied, sounding amused. "You used Voldemort's Revenge on her. Nice execution, by the way."

"Thanks." I smiled at the compliment and downed another drink of Gatorade. "The guy who made it must be brilliant," I teased.

"He is," Fang agreed solemnly. "He's dashingly handsome and hilarious, also."

I snorted, but Christie interrupted before I could reply. "Fang, no matter how much Downpour loves you, we will kick you off the bench if you're distracting our lovely midfielder too much," she threatened.

I averted my eyes in embarrassment, but Fang just smiled at Christie. "I'll be good," he promised. "And I think I deserve some credit here— I taught her that move she used on number thirteen!"

Christie grinned back at him. "Good boy. Now don't talk to her while I'm talking," she ordered. Fang rolled his eyes jokingly, but fell silent as Christie continued with her speech.

The rest of the game flew by on wings. The Flare scored once in the third quarter to tie the game, keeping us all tense for awhile. Then, although I didn't get to keep my promise to the Flare backup goalie to come back and score on her, Victoria managed to get us another goal in the middle of the fourth quarter. The final score was 2-1, Downpour, which was a perfectly respectable score considering we were all dead on our feet at the end of the game.

Christie was beyond pleased with Ella and I, and although she had to hurry away to a dinner arrangement, she promised to call our mom later to talk more about joining the Downpour. When we tried to offer to give our uniforms back, she just wrinkled her nose and waved them off. "Wash them and give them to Nudge at school," she directed. "We don't need them immediately anyway."

The Downpour was very pleased with their victory over their rival team, and Cassie when declared a spontaneous ice cream trip in celebration, everyone instantly agreed. Everyone dispersed to their cars with promises to meet up at the nearest Baskin Robbins, all with huge smiles on their faces. Fang, Ella, Nudge and I all trooped across the field, heading towards where Mom had pulled the car up to wait for us. We were almost to the parking lot when someone rammed roughly into me. Unprepared, I stumbled sideways into Fang, who crashed into Nudge, who consequently bumped into Ella.

I turned to yell at the person, only to find two perpetrators. It was Thirteen and the backup goalie, both death glaring at us. "What do you want?" I spat at them, crossing my arms over my borrowed jersey.

Thirteen narrowed her eyes at me. "Your pretty little forward kicked our goalie in the face," she growled back.

"And I had to go in goal," Backup Goalie added, looking annoyed. "I hate playing goalie!"

"Well that sucks for you, Veronica," Nudge snarled, stepping forward to glare at Backup Goalie. "You're just lucky Chloe didn't mess up your face too! Oh wait, it's already ugly enough."

Veronica made a threatening move towards Nudge, which I instantly stepped forward and blocked, making her stumble away from my friend. "Don't argue with the truth," I told her sweetly.

Someone pushed me hard from behind, and I fell forward into Veronica, who shrieked in protest. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance, turning to face my attacker.

It was Thirteen, obviously. She wasn't looking at me anymore though, because Nudge had just stepped up and slapped her hard across the face. "You bitch!" Thirteen snarled, holding a hand to her face. Her free hand shot out and slapped Nudge back. While I was watching this, Veronica reached over from behind me and yanked on my ponytail. I whirled around and slapped her too, making her head whip back with the force of my blow.

It was a full on chick fight now. Hair was getting pulled, cheeks slapped, shins kicked, (which was pretty ineffective since we were all still wearing shin guards) and chests elbowed. Fang and Ella seemed to be in shock, since they were just standing there watching us four fight with each other.

Then Thirteen shoved Nudge sideways, knocking her off balance and making her crash to the grass with a loud yell. I could have sworn I heard something crack, and Nudge started swearing emphatically. When I looked at her though, I could see tears of pain forming in her eyes.

I'm not sure precisely what happened next, but I was pissed beyond words now. This wasn't just normal soccer anger, the rush of the game and compettiom getting to my head. This was pure anger. Thirteen had hurt my friend.

The next thing I knew, Veronica was holding both hands to a very red cheek and I had Thirteen in a headlock on the ground. I was breathing hard, but Thirteen was breathing harder, her nails digging into my arm as she tried to struggle free.

"Cut it out," I growled, tightening my grip around her neck. Thirteen swore, but stopped scrabbling at my arms. "I want you and Miss Goalie over here to scram, okay?" I released her, and Thirteen instantly rolled away, holding a hand to her neck as she stared at me. "You heard me. Beat it!" I snapped, startling both Flare players. Thirteen jumped up, and with one last angry look at me, grabbed Veronica's arm and tugged her away. I watched them leave, glaring at their backs until they disappeared from sight.

When I turned back around, Fang and Ella were kneeling beside Nudge, who was curled up on the grass. She was no longer swearing, but her skin was pale under her dark complexion and sweat was beading on her temple. Both eyes were screwed shut, and on closer inspection I realized she was tightly clutching her right arm.

I could feel Fang's gaze on me, but it was impossible for me to tear my eyes away from Nudge to look back at him. "I think it's broken," he informed me quietly. Nudge whimpered, curling into a smaller ball. Ella just stroked the small, sweaty curls that had struggled free of Nudge's headband back from her forehead and stayed silent.

The anger drained out of me, and I simply stood there, staring at Nudge. "We should get her to the emergency room," Fang continued calmly, looking back down at Nudge. He was seemingly the only coherent being in this situation, seeing as Ella appeared to be in shock and I was too tired and upset to say or do anything. "I'll call my dad and ask him if he can get us through the waiting room quickly," Fang added, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. "Having a doctor in the mix ends to make things work faster."

That's right. Fang's dad was a doctor. I numbly nodded, watching as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. While Fang talked, Ella seemed to come back to life. She gently pushed Nudge up into a sitting position and looked up at me. Ella stayed silent, but I knew the question in her eyes. She was fully aware I was stronger than her, and seeing as Fang was occupied with his phone call, I needed to be the one to carry Nudge. I nodded in reply, bending down and sliding my arms under her knees and back. I braced myself, then with great effort straightened and staggered to my feet, cradling Nudge to me for balance. I started carefully towards the car, doing my best not to jostle Nudge or her injured arm. Ella tapped Fang on the shoulder, and he turned around to see me carrying Nudge to the parking lot. His eyebrows shot up, and he hurried forward, phone still to his ear, to try and take her from me.

I refused to let Nudge go, glaring at Fang until he stepped back. "You take care of the phone call, and I'll get Nudge to the car," I whispered fiercely. Fang gave me a skeptical look, and I narrowed my eyes at him further. "And I am strong enough, so don't you dare give me that look, Rianild," I added waspishly. "Just talk to your dad."

Fang gave me one last look, his expression unreadable, before returning to his phone call. "Hey Dad, it's Fang," he said into the phone. "Nudge had an accident and I was wondering…"

I didn't listen anymore as I toted Nudge to the car. Ella came with me, watching in front of me so I didn't walk into an obstacle or stumble in one of the divots of the uneven grass. When we finally made it to the car, Ella climbed into the backseat first, helping me to pull Nudge carefully onto the middle seat and strap her in. She was more coherent now, and bit her lip in pain as she watched us buckle her seatbelt.

"What happened to Nudge?" Mom demanded, twisting in her seat to inspect Nudge's arm. Nudge looked up at her, her brown eyes now wide with pain. Mom stopped short mid-interrogation, her shocked expression softening with sympathy.

"Fang thinks it's broken," Ella said quietly, speaking for the first time in five minutes.

"Where is Fang?" Mom asked in confusion. One moment we were all happy and fine, and the next one of us disappeared and another has a broken arm. "And Max, what happened to you?"

I looked up from where I had been staring blankly at Nudge's arm, startled by the mention of my name. "What?" I asked dumbly.

"Your face, and hair, and the jersey!" Mom clarified, looking concerned. "You look like you were in a fight!"

"That's because she was," Fang answered for me, slipping into the front seat of the car. "Dr. M, would you mind taking us to the emergency room? My dad is calling ahead to get us through quicker."

I winced. I had been desperately hoping we could forget to mention the part about the fight and fabricate some other story instead— one that did not include me hitting anybody. But it was too late now, and Fang didn't know what he was getting me into anyway. It wasn't his fault.

Mom automatically started the car, but she still looked extremely confused and starting to get angry as she pulled quickly out of the parking lot. "Maximum Riesra Ride, were you in a fight?" she asked, her voice gaining a dangerous edge as her fingers clenched tightly on the steering wheel.

"Yes," I confirmed in a quiet, clipped tone, keeping my eyes fixed on Nudge.

"I thought you had learned your lesson," Mom observed, obviously trying hard to keep calm.

"I did learn my lesson!" I snapped. "They started it-"

"But would I be incorrect to guess that you finished it?" Mom interrupted.

I fell silent.

"That's what I thought," Mom said finally, her voice hard and tinged with a drop of disappointment. Guilt clawed at my stomach, and anger and frustration simultaneously roiled beside it. "Max, you're grounded for three weeks."

I didn't try to argue.

"Dr. M, Max was just protecting Nudge. She doesn't deserve to be grounded for helping her friend, does she?"

My gaze snapped up to stare incredulously at Fang. He didn't appear to notice, since he was busy looking at my mom instead. He shouldn't argue. He doesn't know her reasoning. Heck, I had forgotten what her reasoning might have been until just now. That memory had been successfully buried for so long, but now it had just been uprooted.

Great.

Mom shook her head tightly, and I quickly looked back down at Nudge. "I appreciate your support for Max, but it's a fitting punishment and she knows it," Mom replied, driving as fast as the speed limit allowed.

I could feel Fang's gaze shift to me, but I pretended not to realize he was waiting for me to explain. The rest of the ride to the ER passed in a tense silence.

After what felt like eons later, we finally arrived at the emergency room. Fang offered to carry Nudge in this time., but she decided she wanted to stay on her feet. Ella threaded her arm under Nudge's shoulders and helped support her that way as we all hurried inside the big white building.

When we rushed up to the desk, a lady in white ushered us through standard emergency room procedure. Fang, Ella and I waited impatiently as the lady inquired all sorts of random information and handed Mom a clipboard of paperwork to fill out. Personally, I was all for making the answers up now and dealing with the consequences later, but Mom firmly shot down that suggestion.

Thanks to Fang's hotshot doctor of a dad, though, Nudge was accepted in much more quickly than she might have been. We let the nurses hurry her away, watching as she disappeared through the white swinging door. I fell into one of the waiting room chairs, barely noticing Fang and Ella sit down on either sides of me. Mom settled down in a chair across from us, pulling out her cell phone to notify Nudge's parents of the accident.

Ella picked up a fashion magazine from the table next to her and started to look through it, but I knew she wasn't really paying attention. Usually Ella would spend up to ten minutes examing each page, exclaiming on someone's eyeshadow and critiquing their choice of clothing or avidly poring over an article. However, now she was just flicking through it, obviously too upset to read.

"Do you want to go get cleaned up, Max?" Fang's voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I turned to look at him. His eyes were filled with concern and confusion, and I had to forcibly restrain myself from blurting out an explanation that wouldn't even make sense to him.

'Cause I'm smooth like that.

I blame his eyes— they wreck my self discipline. Therefore, instead of revealing one of my best-kept secrets ever to the entire waiting room, I looked away from those eyes and asked a more harmless question. "Do I really look that bad?"

Fang smirked slightly and reaches over to pick up my hand. He squeezes it teasingly, but I could tell he was still distracted. I didn't blame him— I was too. I couldn't erase the image of Nudge clutching her arm from my head. "You should have seen the other girl's face when you got her in that headlock," he replied. "Remind me never to tick you off, Max."

I grinned at his praise. "Will do," I assure him. I turn to my sister next. "Want to help me find a bathroom to clean up, Ells?" I offer.

Ella throws down the magazine and leaps from her chair, obviously relieved to have something to do. "Of course," she agrees. "Let's go."

We ended up having to ask the lady at the front desk where the bathroom was, but we eventually found our way there. I pushed open the door, Ella following as I started inside. "So basically I-" I started to speak, but was cut off by the abrupt appearance of something extremely shocking.

My reflection.

Hair is straggling out of my ponytail in clumps and wisps, draping over my eyes and slicked back by sweat on the top. Dirt is streaked liberally across my borrowed blue jersey, and my arms are scratched and dirty too. My cheeks are still pink from being slapped by the Flare girls. The worst part, though, is the blood crusted on the corner of my lower lip.

I do look like I've been in a fight.

I just stared at my reflection in the mirror for awhile, memories flashing through my head. I remembered Mike, Jack, Darla, and Omega… they were screaming as they fought, trying to land a blow and dodge my own at the same time. None of them succeeded.

"Max? Max! Snap out of it, you're scaring me!" Ella's terrified voice snapped me from my reverie, and I quickly averted my eyes from the mirror. "Max, are you okay?" Ella asked breathlessly, obviously deeply alarmed.

I wondered how long I had been zoning out. "I'm fine, Ella," I assure her. "I just spaced out for a sec."

Ella doesn't look convinced, but I'm too drained to try and think up a better lie. I hurried to the sink and started washing the dirt and blood off my face, letting the cool water wake me up more. There wasn't much I could do to clean my jersey, but I did shake out my hair and pull it into a more respectable ponytail. At least I looked halfway decent instead of like a gang fighter.

When Ella and I came back to the waiting room, Nudge's mom had arrived and was sitting with our mom. Fang sat quietly across from them, looking like he would rather be anywhere but here. Ella and I plopped back down in our previous chairs beside him, watching Tanya and Mom talk. Tanya looked exceedingly worried, and her forehead was heavily creased.

"Nudge has osteoporosis," Tanya explained, clutching the handle of her purse as if it were her only life line. Her knuckles were starting to turn white. "She breaks bones really easily— she's broken her ankle, both arms, and a few fingers and toes already."

"That is a lot of injuries," Ella observed, looking worried at this new information. That was a lot of bones broken for a fourteen year old girl.

Fang nodded, resignation apparent on his face. "I was there for most of the breaks," he replied, his eyes locked on the door Nudge had disappeared through. "She broke a couple skiing, her ankle and a toe playing soccer, an arm falling off the monkey bars in third grade…" he trailed off.

"Isn't osteoporosis usually a disease older people get?" I asked, watching Tanya's face. "I thought that it was more of a 'your bones growing weaker with age' type of thing."

Tanya nodded. "It usually is," she agreed, "but my family has a long history of osteoporosis, and Nudge's bones were never particularly strong to begin with. She's also a lot lighter than she should be for her height, which contributed to the osteoporosis taking effect." Tanya paused, looking slightly regretful. "And when we lived in Colorado, Nudge had a vitamin D deficiency to boot. She's just got abnormally light and frail bones. Her father wants her to quit soccer, but I know that's not going to happen no matter how many bones she breaks." Tanya tried to look disapproving, but I could tell she was actually proud of Nudge's perserverance. It was a Mom thing I'd picked up on my radar years ago.

"Tanya Yolinta?" a nurse called from the the door. She shifted uneasily under Fang's intense gaze, which had been originally aimed at the door itself. Fang smirked, and I elbowed him as we all stood up to answer the nurse's call.

The nurse raised an eyebrow at our large party, but didn't say anything as she led us down a white, sterile hallway. I stiffened slightly at the doctor's office smell, but tried not to let my discomfort show on my face. I was here for Nudge.

The nurse ushered us into a small, blue room where Nudge and a woman wearing a long white coat were waiting. Nudge was propped against the wall with a splint on her right arm and an ice pack strapped over it. She smiled weakly at us when we entered. "Hi guys," she greeted us feebly, lifting her good hand in a little wave.

The doctor got straight down to business. She pointed at an x-ray pinned to a light screen, outlining something with the tip of her ballpoint pen. "Monique has a distal radius extra articular fracture," the doctor informed us, gesturing to the x-ray behind her.

Mom and Fang nodded like they understand, but Ella, Tanya and I were left in the dark on this one. We weren't veternarians or sons of doctors, after all. That entire sentence made no sense to me. "Would you mind translating that into English?" I asked after a moment of silence. Ella nodded vigorously, and Tanya smiled a bit.

"She broke her wrist," the doctor summarized, smiling at us.

"Oh." That made more sense.

"I've splinted her arm for now, and next week she should go to her doctor and have a hard cast applied," the doctor continued. "Monique is very lucky it was just the bone and not the joint."

Nudge smiles sheepishly, fingering her ice pack.

"How long is the recovery?" Tanya asked, toying restlessly with the fringe of her jacket.

"About four to six weeks," the doctor replied.

"You're out for six weeks then," Tanya decided, turning to face her daughter. "No soccer for that long."

Nudge springs up from her slouch, looking horrified. "But Mom, it's my wrist!" she protested. "I don't need my wrist to play soccer! I can play again as soon as the hard cast is off, which is like, four weeks!"

Tanya's eyes narrowed, and she actually shook her finger at Nudge. "No arguing," she snaps. "No soccer for six weeks at the very least."

Nudge slumped back against the wall, disappointment scrawled across her face. "The season will be over by then," she moaned.

"Actually, since we have a week of break next week, we still have another month and a half of games," Ella pointed out. "If you drink your milk and don't re-injure your wrist, maybe you'll be back for the finals."

Nudge perked up a little at this, smiling gratefully at Ella. "Thanks Ella," she said quietly.

"Well, she's all ready to go now," the doctor continued, breaking the silence that had formed. "Pick up your medicene prescription at the front and arrange your next appointment for the hard cast," she directed. With one last smile, she slipped out of the room.

Ella and I helped Nudge to her feet, and we all followed Tanya back out to the front desk. While we're waiting for her to get her paperwork, Nudge's phone buzzed from its nook tucked in Fang's pocket. We all looked up as Fang fished it out, handing the phone to Nudge.

"Thanks," she offered to Fang as he gave her back the phone.

"No prob. You made me carry it for too long though, so I refuse to take it back again," he warned her teasingly.

Nudge rolled her eyes, unlocking her phone and looking down at her new text message. She started to giggle, and we all looked over at her inquisitively. "Garnet texted me," Nudge explained, still grinning. "She's wondering why we aren't at ice cream with the rest of the team!"

Ella and I grinned back, while Fang just looked vaguely amused. "Will she be surprised if you tell her we got in a fight with chicks from the Flare and kicked their butts, but you broke your wrist in the process?" I asked teasingly.

Nudge sobered slightly at this, and sighs reluctantly. "Sadly, she won't," she admits. "Breaking bones is practically classified as a bad habit of mine on the Downpour."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Smooth, Nudge," I replied. "You're just about as smooth as sandpaper."

Nudge shrugged, looking resigned. "I have a reputation," she explained condescendingly, not a hint of a smile visible on her face. "It's been almost two years since I broke my ankle— I was due for another break soon anyway."

I stared at her. "You're joking, right?" Ella asked a second later, voicing my thoughts.

Nudge shook her head. "Nope," she announced, popping the 'p'.

"That is pathetic," I declared. "Why am I friends with you again?"

Nudge batted her eyelashes at me. "I'm amazingly beautiful and charming," she assured me. "And funny and kind and caring and—"

Nudge was cut off by accidentally tripping over one of the laces on her cleats, almost crashing down onto her broken wrist. Luckily, Fang grabbed her left arm just in time, bracing her until she could stand properly again. "And graceful," I added sweetly. "Pathetic, Nudge dearie."

Nudge simply snorted at my abuse. "What's pathetic is the way you stare at Fang," she retorted.

My horrifically cruel sister Ella actually laughed at the open-mouthed expression on my face. "Nudge 1, Max 0," she announced with a grin.

Fang just smirked that oh so annoying smirk of his, giving me a knowing look.

Why do I hang out with these people?

Okay, so crap ending… but it's a chapter, right? I'm really tired right now… there's A LOT on my plate… =(

If you would review then that would help cheer me up a lot! =D I love you all!

The most epic thing I've seen recently? I tried to spell 'open' on my iPod and spellcheck changed it to ipwn. Sorry, just had to share. XD

~TMI~