Chapter 3

Ava

The hum of the crowd could be heard from inside the tunnel. I rocked on my feet, closed my eyes, and murmured to myself, "This is it. You can do this." The team was bouncing around me, and Coach smiled over her shoulder before giving the sign to run onto the field.

As soon as we began to emerge, the crowd went crazy. Fans jumped to their feet, waving foam fingers, and shouting. I glanced over my shoulder to see my dad beaming. He and Madi were dressed in their blue and orange and waving a number 18 sign just like he said. I couldn't help but smile. I waved in his direction, hoping he saw me before joining the team in the center of the field.

"This is insane!" Ashley shouted as we lined up for drills.

"This is Legacy Day. Everyone who's ever been tied to Pepperdine soccer is here." I laughed as I passed the ball back. "Square up to block," I called. Ashley was our goalie.

"Really?" She shook her head at me. I did this before every game. "I was kinda hoping to not have grass stains till after the ceremony." She rolled her eyes before getting into position.

"It's tradition." I dribbled the ball over, used the top of my foot to get it airborne and then swung around, sending it right at her. Normally I would place it in a corner to avoid it being blocked, but this was just a warm up. As I landed on my side in the grass, I looked up just in time to see Ashley catch it in the bread basket.

"Umph," she grunted as she landed on her butt. "You got one hell of a left." She tossed it back at me. "Can we be done with that nonsense for now?"

I laughed as I climbed to my feet. "Sure." I reared back and sent it in her direction.

"Geez, Ava, how many Wheaties did you eat this morning?" She chased after the ball.

"I'm in game mode." I shrugged as we were called to the sidelines.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeaker. "I want to thank all of you for joining us on Legacy Day. As you know, we're retiring a very important number today. Number 25 was worn by one of the greatest players Pepperdine has ever seen, Bailey French. Bailey set records that have stood for the last twenty-four years. Some believe that she would have played for Team USA in the Olympics and gone pro if she'd stayed healthy. Our very own Coach Knox was lucky enough to coach Bailey when she was a student here. Now, we have her daughter, Ava, playing for us and we're counting on her to go all the way." The crowd roared as I stepped from the sidelines to join Coach in the middle of the field. "If everyone would direct their attention to the press box, we'll unveil the number 25." I looked up, shading my eyes from the sun. The cloak that was over the large jersey cutout was pulled down, and the number 25 with French across the back appeared. The crowd got quiet as if the emotion I was feeling melted into them too. I glanced over to my dad and saw Madi hugging him as they both wiped their eyes.

A gentle breeze blew through the stadium, and I smiled knowing it was her. Dad's eyes connected with mine, and he nodded slightly as if he were thinking the same thing. I knew he needed that moment as much as I did. He mouthed the words ‘I love you' and pointed to me.

"We miss you, Bailey. We hope you're having the game of your life up there," the announcer finished. "Now, let's play ball." The crowd roared to life again as Coach and I jogged off the field.

After carefully placing Mom's jacket on the team bench, I sat in the grass and began stretching out. I had a routine, and part of me believed that I couldn't stray from it. "You got this!" Coach commanded as I stood, shook out the jitters, and jogged into position on the field.

I did have this, but I needed to get out of my head. There were parts of me that were still thinking about my mom, and I knew that not concentrating on the game was how we would lose. Danny taught me that bad things happen when you're not paying attention. My broken nose from when I was twelve was a reminder.

I played with the big kids growing up. At five, I was playing in the eight-year-old league. By the time I was twelve, I was playing with the JV team. I was small for my age too, so that was something I had to learn how to deal with. I was quick because being little made me more agile, but I was also ganged up on on the field by the bigger kids. When I played at the rec center, I met Danny, who would practice with me and teach me new skills. He sent the ball sailing at me one day when we were practicing headers, and I wasn't paying attention. I got nailed right in the face and it broke my nose. My dad freaked out when he came to pick me up and saw blood gushing from my nose. The first thing he thought was that I was sick like my mom. Her cancer started with nose bleeds. It took Madi slapping him for him to calm down and listen to what had happened.

Ever heard the phrase ‘bad things happen in slow motion'? I never believed it until today. I'd been all over the place with my feelings, but the end of this game was a moment that I would never forget. It changed my life, and I wasn't sure how I'd come back from it.

We were down by one. There was less than a minute left in the game. I was racing up the left side, waiting for the pass. Jules, our midi, had the ball. I called for it, and just as she passed it to me, the player to my left went to try and steal. I should have lifted my arm in defense, but I wasn't thinking about the game. My brain was somewhere in the clouds thinking about my mom. The girl swept her leg out, tripping me in the process just as the ball reached me. I went down, and the opposing team scored on a breakaway.

Here"s the part I haven't told you. When I crumpled to the ground, I heard a crack and shooting pain went up my leg. My world went dark as I lay in the grass on the field.

"Ava?" Coach was calling my name, and when I opened my eyes I could see the entire team gathered around me.

"What happened?" I tried to sit up, but Coach pressed my shoulder down.

"Don't move," she ordered. "An ambulance is on the way."

"What?" I gasped and that's when the pain came back. My entire left leg was screaming in agony, and when I tried to move it, nothing happened.

"You've had a break. We need to get you to the hospital. Just try to relax," Coach soothed.

I lay back down and glanced at the sky. The sun was behind the clouds, and the breeze had stopped. Was she seeing this? "We need to keep playing." I groaned as the pain seemed to increase.

"You're not playing anymore today. Honey, I don't think you're going to walk today." Coach had this look of pity on her face. It was then that the team parted and paramedics went to work.

As I was loaded onto a stretcher, the crowd began booing. Apparently they weren't happy that the player who tripped me wasn't given a card. Coach squeezed my hand before looking over at the team. "We're going to get a penalty kick. We need to make this for Ava." The girls nodded, and rushed back to the game. "I'll be by later to check on you," she called as I was rolled away.

As they were loading me into the ambulance, Dad and Madi appeared. Dad climbed in as Madi shouted that she'd drive the car and meet us there.

"What's going on?" I mumbled. I think the paramedics had given me something for the pain because everything was suddenly fuzzy.

"You did a number on your leg." Dad sighed.

"What do you mean?" I attempted to lift my head to see, but it felt extremely heavy.

"Pretty sure it's broken." Dad smiled tightly and squeezed my hand. "You'll be ok. Bones heal." He chuckled.

"But soccer. The pros." I gasped. "What about soccer?"

"You're just going to take a little break." He smiled as he squeezed harder.

"I can't. I can't take a break. I'll never make it if I take a break." Panic set in and the monitors started going crazy.

"You have to calm down." The paramedic started to prepare a sedative. "We're almost there. I'm sure your doctor can give you more information."

Within minutes, we came to a stop. Dad jumped out and as they wheeled me into the emergency room, the paramedics rambled off my vitals. It was then that I realized I couldn't feel my foot.

The doctors went to work checking me out. The last thing I heard before passing out was, "No radial pulse." That had to be bad, right?