(48) Busted Up Sneakers

Due to the stress and physical side effects of the accident on Saturday night, Carolynn allowed Makennah to stay home from school on Monday and Tuesday. However, the boys returned to school immediately because of football. They didn't do much practicing because of their swollen and bruised hands, but they went to practice anyways.

Coach Hanes was informed of what happened and he was more than understanding. The Sinclair's stressed the need for privacy and cooperation during this time. He didn't have any problem with it and promised Makennah that she could still play in all of the games as long as she attended practice the day before.

Grace, Penny, and Meredith called her - no, they couldn't just text. Each of them wanted to know that she was okay. Their concern was heartwarming. Even though they were her friends, Makennah lied about what really happened and instead stated that she crashed the Jeep.

Carolynn express ordered some turtle neck sweaters and shirts that Makennah could wear to cover her neck until makeup would suffice to hide the bruises. Regretfully, she returned to school on Wednesday. Carolynn and Will felt that she needed to return to her normal schedule as soon as possible. Plus, they didn't want Makennah to fall behind in her school work.

Because the state of her neck wasn't quite presentable yet, Makennah opted out of practice.

Instead, Coach Hanes insisted that Makennah take the interview with Hanna for the school newspaper. Apparently he heard the rumors about the interview and was very unhappy that Makennah initially showed some hesitation. According to Coach Hanes, this was a wonderful opportunity for her and would further get her name out for college scouting and other prestigious opportunities.

So Makennah hauled her butt into the journalism office which was empty after school and sat at a computer desk while she waited for Hanna to arrive.

Shoving her glasses up on her nose, Hanna hurried into the room and dumped her stuff on the desk where Makennah waited.

"Wow I'm so sorry I'm late," she apologized profusely. More than once. But once was enough.

"It's okay. No worries." She didn't want to do this. All of the attention focused on her made her extremely uncomfortable.

"I figured we would just get right into it. If you don't mind, can I record this for writing and memory purposes?" Makennah nodded her acceptance. "Great, so if at any time you'd like to take a break or say something off the record, just make sure you say 'off the record' before you say whatever it is that needs to be off the record. Does that make sense?" Hanna seemed to confuse even herself.

Makennah nodded. "Yes, I understand." Her voice was still a little scratchy and throaty from the swelling and bruising that started to go down but hadn't officially disappeared.

"Great. So..." Hannah started the recorder and pulled out a blue notebook which had seen better days. Loose leaf papers had been shoved inside at any possible junction. The binding was a little bent, and the front cover was frayed. "We'll start out easy. How long have you been playing soccer?"

Simple enough. "I joined a team at the local YMCA when I was five years old. I stayed on that team until I was eight. Then I played on and off until...now. So about eleven years respectively."

Hanna jotted down notes as Makennah spoke. She smiled her encouragement. "Even at such a young stage, did you know you wanted to pursue soccer for the foreseeable future?"

Makennah formed her answer based off of what everyone in Braxton knew about her. Soccer was more than just a game; it was her escape from life's hardships. "From what I can remember, yes. I remember different offers to play different sports but I always wanted to stick with soccer. By the time I was nine or ten, I was fully dedicated. And I've been playing pretty much ever since."

Hanna nodded. "Throughout your childhood, did you ever play for any soccer clubs?"

Makennah bit her tongue. Makennah never had the money for those kinds of clubs. "No, I didn't."

Hanna looked up from her notes and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Then how have collegiate recruiters heard of you and taken an interest in you?"

Makennah cocked her head to the side. "I didn't know any collegiate soccer recruiters knew about me."

"Oh." Hanna's mouth formed an 'O.' "Sorry I'm getting off track. We'll come back to that." She scanned her notes with her finger. "Ah yes, have you ever considered playing collegiate soccer?"

So far, she hadn't even thought about attending college at all. So collegiate soccer? Not so much. If only Hanna could read her thoughts. "Not really. Not because I don't love soccer. I just never thought the opportunity would arise." Fair enough answer.

Hanna checked the recorder to make sure it was still doing its thing. Makennah crossed one leg over the other and fidgeted with her hands. Was this almost over? "How has your experience been at Braxton so far?"

Okay she could handle this question. "Wonderful. Coach Hanes and the assistant coaches are amazing leaders. They know how to find your weaknesses and help you hone them into strengths. Coach Hanes has the perfect combination of strength and persistence with encouragement. He doesn't ever let us back down. We always have to give that last ten percent that we, as players, don't think we have. Plus, the team of girls is great. We're like a sisterhood. We all love the sport so much and just want to see each other succeed and do our best. The other teams have provided for some fierce competition, but I think it just pushes us to be better."

Hanna stilled her pen and listened to Makennah talk. She lifted her head and considered Makennah with kind expressive eyes. "It's amazing that you have that. What would you say is your biggest strength?" She asked.

Makennah blew out a big gust of air. She laughed off the awkwardness that she felt sitting in her belly. "Um...sorry I don't like talking about myself. Um...I'm aggressive. I never back down from a fight. I think that makes me a better player because I know I have to be my best. I'm always looking for ways to perfect my skills and be better every day."

Hanna smiled. "I know this is a little awkward but you're doing great. I really appreciate this," she said as she glanced down at her notes to find her next question. "Would you say that you're aggressiveness is what you helps you score so many goals?"

Makennah shrugged. "I guess."

Hanna cocked her head. "You guess?" She pressed. "Your statistics show that you score 80% of the shots you take at the net. Your record is 4/5 goals for every shot you take. That's the highest on the team."

Makennah blushed. "I don't really pay attention to that. I just play the game."

Hanna dropped her pen and steepled her fingers together as if she were perplexed. "You're ranked in the state as number one for assists and goals at a high school level. You've managed to make a name for yourself in a manner of weeks when you enrolled at Braxton High. Did you know that?"

Makennah bit her lip. Ranked in the state? Highest on the team? Records and goals and assists? She didn't know any of this. When her cleats touched the field, she put everything out of her mind and just played. "No...I didn't know that."

Hanna just looked at her...and blinked. Once. Twice. "Okay well...what do you think of yourself when you watch film of your games?"

That was easy. She didn't watch film. "I don't watch film of our games. I only watch film of other teams to prepare for matches."

Surprisingly, Hanna burst out laughing. She scribbled something in her notebook which made her uncomfortable. "You literally have no idea how good you are."

"What?" Her cheeks flushed with heat.

Hanna laid her pen down and made eye contact. "No offense but you're blind. You're amazing at soccer. Your stats are off the charts." Hanna whipped through her notebook and found a piece of paper she was looking for. "You have 36 assists. 69 goals. 152 points. On top of that, you've never sustained an injury. One thing that I've found that coaches look for is consistency and you have that. Every single game you get on goal at least six times. That's incredible. You score every single game. Additionally, according to other players on the team, you're the fastest player on the varsity squad. You're stacked with a full deck of cards. And you didn't know that?"

She didn't believe Makennah. She thought she was faking it.

Makennah leaned back in her chair, resting her hands calmly in her lap. It was all suddenly very clear to her. "You know, I love soccer. No matter what opportunities fall in my lap, I just want to play the game. Those statistics....well, I don't know them because I don't care. It's not because I don't love soccer or don't want to be better. I just....I just wanna play. In my life, I wasn't blessed with extra activities and clubs and summer camps to help hone my skills. Those types of opportunities weren't given to me. Instead, I took my soccer ball into my back yard and dribbled until I couldn't dribble anymore. I balanced the ball on my cleats until I could do it for hours with my eyes closed. I bounced the ball from knee to knee back and forth hundreds of times without dropping it. My friends in my neighborhood threw the ball of out the second story window of their house so that I could practice heading the ball to maintain control. I ran myself into the ground, lapping the neighborhood for miles so that I could elongate my stamina. No one taught me. No one helped me. I had good coaches but most of them weren't the best. I watched YouTube videos and taught myself everything I needed to know. Statistics don't faze me because it's just a number. Statistics won't make me better. I better the statistics." Makennah grabbed her bag and stood to her feet. "I appreciate you interviewing me. But I'd like to go now."

"Of course just..." Hanna hopped to her feet, accidentally dumping her notebook on the ground.

Makennah used that as a distraction to head out. "Thanks. Have a good day."

In the hallway, Makennah paused and leaned heavily against the lockers. The cool metal chilled her blazing hot skin.

Why couldn't she just live her life in privacy? Why did everyone have to ask questions? Why did everyone have to intervene? Why did everyone want to have a say in what she did? Why couldn't she crawl under her covers and sleep for days?

People had to stop talking about her accident. The Sinclair's had to stop tip toeing around her. Her friends had to stop staring. Her mom had to stop whispering lies in her head - those old lies that she wasn't good enough. The anxiety in her chest had to stop building up every time she took a breath. Ghosts from the past had to stop popping up and destroying her stability.

Makennah never planned for the future because tomorrow is never promised. She realized she was lucky enough to wake up everyday healthy - for the most part. College wasn't her dream because kids like Makennah...foster kids...don't get to go to college. She didn't get to be an all star soccer player because she learned to play in the hood with a busted up pair of sneakers.

The stress amounted to more than she could take. The weight on her chest doubled in size. It suddenly became hard to breathe.

"Makennah?" A familiar voice called from down the hall.

When she turned around, she came face to face with Grace. "Hey," she said weakly.

"Are you okay?" A concern look morphed her beautiful features. Those piercing blue eyes studied Makennah seriously.

She nodded.

Grace sighed and held out your arms. "I know you won't like this but I'm going to hug you."

Makennah backed away but Grace advanced on her too quickly and captured her in her arms. Such strength enveloped Makennah even though Grace was a tiny girl.

"You seem to be going though a lot," Grace said in her ear. "I don't completely understand but I'm here for you. And I'll always give you a listening ear."

Signing shakily, Makennah returned her friend's hug. The warmth from her body helped ease the mental and emotional pain that plagued her. "Some days it's just....a lot."

"We're allowed to have bad days," Grace said.

"It seems to be a lot of bad days in a row," she said back.

Grace hugged her closer and patted her back. "That's okay too. We don't have to have it all together all of the time. It's okay to not be okay."

God, she was such an emotional wreck lately. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She clenched her eyelids shut tightly. "I just need something to go my way," she whispered for fear that her voice would crack with weakness if she spoke up.

Grace pulled back and held Makennah still by her shoulders. "There are things going your way, Mack. You have a friends, a family. And like...the hottest guy ever is totally in love with you." She winked.

Makennah rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile that crept onto her lips. "Yeah yeah."

Grace flicked Makennah in the nose. "So maybe call up your hot boyfriend, invite him over, and make out a little bit. Let him touch your boobs or something...I don't know." Grace flipped her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "I gotta get going. See ya later." She waved and exited as quickly as she came.

"Drive safe," she said in parting.

Grace spun around and continued walking backwards as she yelled out, "Call the hot boyfriend!"

"Get out of here!" She yelled back, louder than expected.

And she smiled. And it felt good.

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Good night one and all!!

Xoxo

W. Carolina