Take a Look At Yourself

The football field instantly quieted the second Carmen walked onto it. She stared at each player and then plopped down on the bench. She was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, completely the opposite of what she was supposed to wear to practice. Her tattoos stood boldly on her skin as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Miss Harrison, that is not the appropriate attire for our practices," Coach Peterson said, "I suggest you go change."

Carmen cocked her head and stared at the coach. We could all see a callous response formulating in her brain. I crossed my arms over my chest, wondering what the hell she was about to say. Half the team was pissed she was here, and the other half of the team was wondering why she was here.

"Look, Coach Asshole, we both know that I am not going to see a day of play. The only reason I am here is because your quarterback couldn't handle a little bit of attitude from a soccer player." Carmen stood up, getting toe to toe with the coach. "You are the entire reason the soccer players have the reputation that we do. Do you know what it's like to play on a field that's been ruined by your training apparatus. So, I'll show up to what I'm obligated to show up to, but I won't be participating. And if you have a problem with it, you can suck my big toe."

Coach Peterson stared at her. He had never been talked to that way, not even by the other coaches. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't you ever talk to me that way again. Go get your fucking pads on."

Fire ignited her blue eyes. "FUCKING make me."

Peterson turned to me and Brian. "Get her in the fucking pads and onto my field. And if you ever have the audacity to talk to me like that again, Harrison, I will fucking make your run laps until you vomit."

Brian and I stared at each other and each grabbed one of Carmen's arms. She struggled a little but gave in, turning around to yell one last thing at the coach.

"I WAS A TRACK RUNNER! NOTHING WILL MAKE ME VOMIT LIKE NEVADA HEAT, YOU FUCKER."

Brian and I stared at each other as Carmen stared down at the pads. Neither of us could believe that they even made football pads small enough for her. She turned to us and glared until we turned around. It was really hard to believe that she was going to be a player on our team.

Once we were back on the field, Carmen sat back down on the bench. I jogged over to the offensive side and waited for Coach Peterson to have an aneurysm about seeing Harrison on the bench again.

Brian stared at me as Zach jogged over to us. Johnny was close to follow. We were all a little excited to see what was going to happen. Lord knew that Coach Peterson did not do well with people not listening to him.

"ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME, HARRISON?" His voice echoed around the field, and all of the other players instantly dropped into push-up position. We all knew what that meant. If Harrison got all of us in trouble, the team would hate her even more.

Our quarterback, Mike, dropped down next to me. Anger rolled off of him in much the same way that it was rolling of Coach Peterson. "I can't believe her punishment was to join the team. That was not what I wanted."

I stared at him. "You wanted her off the team or the soccer team gone. We all know, Mike. You're an ass."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well pretty clear to all of us you think she's hot. So, stop trying to get on her good side. She hates all of us."

"HARRISON, RUN SOME FUCKING LAPS. YOU WILL RUN UNTIL YOU PUKE."

Carmen stripped off her pads, leaving herself in a sports bra and some running shorts. She looked directly at the coach as she started literally sprinting around the track. We all had a feeling she would be here for a while. Soccer players were designed to run.
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We all watched as Carmen continued to sprint around the track. Even Coach Peterson was starting to get bug-eyed watching her. It was like she wouldn't stop. She was going to prove a point to all of us.

"So, can we go home yet?" Mike asked.

"Mike, you're the entire reason that we're in this situation. SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Peterson was not having it with anyone today. "HARRISON, YOU CAN STOP RUNNING!"

Carmen kept running, flipping the bird at him. "I haven't puked yet, asshole!" She turned the corner and we all watched as she purposefully slid down the track, tearing up her leg.

Blood and pus oozed from a scratch that went from her leg down to her ankle. She eyed the coach as she picked little pieces of the track from her wound. All of us stared wide-eyed at her.

"Get the fuck off my field," Coach Peterson said, rubbing his forehead.

"Hey kid, do I have your attention?" She asked quietly. "This isn't your field." She left the field and glared daggers at each of us.

We all turned to Mike. Some quarterback he was.

Notes

Fingers taking over the typing does miracles sometimes.