Read Online Cryer's Cross by Lisa McMann - Free Book Online

concentrate.
    For most of them the only way to get through it is by moving on.

THIRTEEN
    Somehow she makes it through to lunch, when she gets a chance to straighten the curtain and the desks. She can’t stand to go outside to eat lunch in their spot. She can hardly stand to look at Nico’s desk. It’s so empty. So cold.
    By afternoon she can no longer concentrate at all, and even Ms. Hinkler is giving her a free pass indefinitely to lay her head down and just try to get through it.
    When school is over, there’s nothing Kendall wants more than to play some soccer. Get the whirlwind out of her head. Work out the grief and the anxiety. Think about something else for a change.
    She suits up in the locker room, alone again without Marlena, and makes a little wish that Coach has found moreplayers to join the team before they miss another game. Tomorrow is the next one scheduled in Bozeman. She runs out to the field and starts warming up. Counting to thirty for every stretch, counting her steps as she jogs in place. Slowly the others join her. She counts them, just to make sure.
    Four seniors. One freshman. Only one sophomore now. Six.
    Coach is late, and the team falls into a three-on-three scrimmage naturally, anxiously. Kendall feels naked without Nico there. They had so many plays together. So much nonverbal communication. Years of it. There’s no quick fix when you’re missing that.
    Jacián is also looking a little bit lost for plays without Marlena. The two end up on the same team with Brandon, and they fail miserably, like it’s their first game ever.
    They scrimmage for twenty painful minutes before Coach shows up. When he strides onto the field, everybody comes to a standstill. He waves them all in.
    “Guys,” he says. Kendall notices the wrinkles by his eyes for the first time. He looks tired. He waits for everybody to quiet, glancing at his clipboard, fingering the whistle around his neck.
    “Hey, guys, gather up. It’s good to see you again.” He gives a grim smile. “Wish it were under better circumstances. We’ve lost two of our best at the moment. Update, Jacián?”
    “She had a rough night, but she’s tough.” Jacián’s dark skin gleams with sweat in the afternoon sun. “Doc says she won’t play this season at all, though.” He looks down. “Sorry, guys. She feels bad.”
    Kendall looks at the grass.
    “And you’ve all figured out by now that we’re down to six. Last year we played with nine and it was tough. This year with eight would have been already approaching impossible. It’s different with one game, but game after game for a whole season . . .” Coach pauses. He shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to say what he has to say next.
    “I made a dozen phone calls last night, people. And I don’t have a single possibility for new players. Not one. Not even one who hedged or wavered on a maybe. We’ve squeezed a third of our high school for our soccer sports program. That’s a ton more, percentage wise, than most other schools nationwide. We’re maxed out.” He pauses. Sighs. “We’re done, guys. I’m sorry. This is the end of the road for us.”
    The whole team stares at the ground, nobody daring to look up.
    “To you seniors who played your last high school game as juniors,” Coach says, “I’m especially sorry. This isn’t the way to end a career.”
    He glances at Jacián and around the group. “Some of you have a lot of talent and have a chance of playing on acollege team. I hope you give it a shot. Keep practicing on your own. Don’t give up.”
    Coach pulls his baseball cap from his head, smoothes his cropped hair back, and replaces the cap. “That’s it. I’m sorry. We did the best we could. I’ll be on the grounds for a bit if anybody wants to talk further.” He stands for a minute, almost unsure, and then he turns and walks back toward the school building.
    The team stands in silent shock, realizing the season’s over, watching their coach walk away