As Ashley walks across the freshly cut grass, she takes a deep breath and pulls her straight chestnut hair tighter into a ponytail. She wipes the back of her tiny hand across her freckled forehead, pulls down her black shorts and tucks in her red shirt.

The girls stand watching her approach. Her creamy, thin arms drop to her sides. She clasps her hands behind her back. The girl that seem to be the team leader smiles and begins to introduce the other girls. They giggle as they wait for the coach to call their numbers. The excitement in the air is thick.

The whistle blows. The coach yells, “ Number twelve black and red you’re up. Show me what you’ve got.”

Ashley pulls her white shin guards up, checks the bottom of her black cleats, takes a deep breath, and runs onto the field to begin warming up.

She runs the soccer ball between orange cones that are set up. Two of the girls try to block her. The other girls cheer her on from the sideline as she approaches the end of the field. She awkwardly kicks the ball into the net, she turns away, flinches and turns back just in time to see the goalie stop it.

Her shirt is now the color of blood, soaked with sweat. Her delicate shoulder slump. She slowly walks off the field, head hung low, tiny tears rolling down her now sun burnt cheeks. The sadness on her face seems to take over. The girls run towards her, yelling, “You did a good job.”

She grabs her red and black gym bag and walks to where her mother is waiting. Her mother hugs her as she sobs. As they slowly walk away her mother pats her back. Ashley brushes her hand across her forehead to get the hair out of her face.

Before getting into her family’s green and gold mini-van, she turns one last time to look at the field. She wipes away her tears and climbs into the van. The girls wave as they drive away.