Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 134387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 672(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 672(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
And everyone jumps, including me, when Arrow speaks. “Pass the ball and help forwards make the goal.” I look away from the crowd and focus on him and his murmured voice. “Tell me, Salem, did you pass the ball to your forwards even once in the game?”
No.
I didn’t.
My cheeks burn as he keeps staring down at me with harsh eyes. My whole body burns like he just lit fire to my soccer cleats.
But he’s right.
I did commit the crime he’s accusing me of.
I did not pass the ball.
Once I took possession of it, I didn’t let it go. I took all the shots myself. If I wasn’t open to take the shot, I dribbled and ran with the ball until I could. It was pure luck that the player from the opposite team didn’t steal the ball from me and make the goal herself.
Swallowing again, I shake my head. “No.”
“No, what?” he bites out and I flinch.
It burns me even more, his question, his hint, but I understand. “No, Coach.”
He narrows his eyes for a second as if he’s absorbing it too, me calling him Coach. It makes him even more menacing, meaner.
“Well, as your coach, allow me to educate you on the first rule of soccer. Soccer is a team sport. Meaning, you play as a team. Meaning, you don’t steal your teammate’s play. You don’t let your forwards run up and down the field, looking like fools. Especially when they’re trying to communicate with you, trying to tell you that they have a better chance of scoring if you just pass the ball. So next time, do your job, follow the rules and pass the fucking ball.”
Perfection.
Greatness. Being at the top. Being the best.
Those are the things that I grew up with.
Those are the things that have been drilled into my head ever since I was a kid and I’d see my soccer legend of a father, Atticus Carlisle, play.
Mostly on the television screen because he passed away when I was seven.
And how do you become the best? How do you achieve greatness and perfection?
You do it by working hard, harder than the others. You do it by being focused. You do it by making sacrifices that others won’t.
You do it by following the rules.
Which is, again, something I grew up with because my mother is the principal of a reform school.
So I’ve always done my homework, eaten my vegetables. I’ve gone to bed at an appropriate time. I’ve gotten straight As. I’ve aced every practice.
In short, rules are how I’ve lived my life.
It doesn’t make sense though that I’m here, back in my hometown of St. Mary’s, for doing the exact opposite of that.
I’m not only back in my hometown but I’m also sitting on a pink couch with printed blue flowers on it. Because I broke the very first rule of soccer. The rule my dad taught me when I was only six or so.
“You never lose your temper, Arrow. That’s the first rule. Soccer isn’t about butting heads. It’s about precision and accuracy. It comes from patience. You gauge the play of the other player before making yours.”
I have to admit that I didn’t understand it at the time but over the years, it became second nature.
Not losing my calm. Not losing my patience. Not losing my fucking temper.
But I did.
I lost my temper and beat up the assistant coach. It doesn’t matter that he had it coming. It doesn’t matter that I would’ve killed that motherfucker if they hadn’t pulled me off. It doesn’t matter that I fucking enjoyed it.
What matters is that I broke a rule – as impossible and otherworldly as it may seem right now – and got kicked off the team.
I got kicked out before I could win the cup and that’s why I’m here.
In the pink and from what I can tell also purple office of the therapist that the team chose for me, Dr. Lola Bernstein.
She’s a woman in her fifties, I think. She also wears glasses and a fuck-ton of jewelry. And she smiles. A lot.
I’ve probably been here five minutes and she’s smiled at me at least ten times. So she smiles twice every minute. Once every thirty seconds, and I already want to punch her glass coffee table.
But I won’t.
Because I don’t lose my temper. I never lose it.
Besides, she’s a Harvard graduate. She has about thirty years of experience and good credentials. I’ve been told that she’s also worked at a very prestigious facility called Heartstone Psychiatric Hospital, before starting her own practice. If anyone can help me get rid of this anger inside of me, it’s her.
So I’m going to follow the rules and not punch things around me like I strangely want to do these days.
“So, Arrow.” She cocks her head to the side and her necklace tinkles. “Can I call you Arrow?”