Take a Look At Yourself

Looking down at my hands, I waited as a jury of my peers listened to what they believed were my faults. These people didn't really know me. They only knew the sordid tale of a soccer player who supposedly hated football players with such a passion that she would purposefully hurt a coach. No matter what, my reputation as a soccer player would always be damaged. Even coach and Heather wouldn't look at me. What that article did didn't just affect me, it had hurt my team. Our chances of nationals were quickly fading away. And I had no idea why.

"Can you name any other times when Miss Harrison has been overly aggressive with the team?"

I cringed at the question. They hadn't even let me take the stand. They said that everything they needed to know was in that article. Why would they bother to hear how the soccer players were actually treated? I was the little creep that had ruined their football playing experience.

"I mean, she's just super aggressive and always calls us names. It makes practice really miserable. And I know she has it out for the coach. I mean she pegged him in the head."

I started to tune it out now. They were all saying the same thing, and not a damn soul cared about my side. They had condemned me before the trial even started. I had no doubt that I would be off the team.
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What felt like hours later, I was being asked to stand. The jury of my peers plus the athletic coordinator. I knew that I was about to be kicked off the team just by the mere presence of the director being there. I sighed. My whole career was about to be fucked over because of some petty football players.

"Miss Harrison," the athletic director looked at me, sadness in his eyes. I didn't think he actually would care about my fate. "I have to say that this accusations seem absolutely ludicrous. From speaking independently with your coach, teammates, and professors, you seem like an amazing and well-rounded individual. I also spoke with other football players who all had kind things to say. While many agreed you could be a little intense with them, none felt you were targeting them. A lot of them just believed it came from frustration at having to share a field.

"After listening to the jury, I again feel you have been condemned wrongfully. I think all of this is a bit of a witch hunt." He chuckled a little. "All that being said, I have had several important alumni call me. The quarterback's father said he would pull support if something wasn't done. While our soccer team is accomplished, football is what brings the money.

"After speaking with coaches and the alumni board, we've decided that you will be restricted from playing soccer for the rest of the season. Should the team make it to nationals, you won't be able to play. Instead, the alumni board believes you can learn to appreciate the football team by helping them as a trainer and a potential player."

My mouth dropped open. They were banning me from my sport because of some yellow journalism meant to cause me harm. I started to protest when I felt my coach touch my arm. It was a silent plea to not say a word. This was the best outcome, and we all knew that.

"They're going to let a girl play?" I asked instead. A thousand words sat at the tip of my tongue. Each one was harsher and more aggressive than the last. There was a reason I was the yellow card queen in high school.

The athletic coordinator looked at me. "They'll allow it."

The way he said it made me think the alumni board wanted me to get hurt. They wanted to see the little bitch injured. And it made me actually hate football. They didn't like me because I pissed off the whiny titty baby of a quarterback and his rich fucking daddy.
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The tattoo gun sounded and gently pierced my skin as my artist traced the burning viking ship onto my back. After the day I had, I needed the gun and sting. Soccer had been my life, and it had been torn from me because of an asshole.

"You seem pretty upset, Carmen," my tattoo artist said. The burn dug into my shoulder blades. I missed that. I missed that sensation.

"Fucking asshole football players is all."

A laugh sounded from above me. "We're not all assholes, Miss Harrison." The hazel eyes that had hypnotized me a few weeks and days ago stared down at me.

"Well, I'm lumping you together after today."

"Hey! I didn't want them to take soccer away. I definitely didn't think they would. That's bullshit." He sat down in the chair next to me. Someone was getting a tattoo. "And I really didn't think they'd make you play with us."

I stared at the good-looking stranger. "Well, so it goes, right?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "You read Vonnegut."

"Yes." The gun sounded and stung my skin.

Well, welcome to the family."

Notes

Fingers taking over the writing again.