I WAS ON my way to the last practice before our final game when the news of Caroline’s pregnancy broke. I knew something was different the minute I stepped out of our complex. There were paparazzi hovering outside the perimeter of the village, snapping photo after photo as we loaded onto the bus. They were far more desperate than usual. An Olympic official was shouting at them to get back, but they kept right on snapping photos until the bus doors closed behind me. I could only imagine what the headline read that morning: Mother Theresa Step Aside, There’s a New Mum in Town. Gag me.
She’d probably given them an array of photos to choose from, all of which solidified her image as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Virginal white, pale pink, pearls, diamonds, nude flats—she knew exactly what she was doing, I’d give her that.
As I walked down the aisle of the bus, I heard whispers about her pregnancy, but no one had the guts to stand up and ask me. Even Kinsley and Becca danced around the issue, focusing on my wrist instead.
“What did the doctor say at your appointment yesterday?”
I shrugged. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what his final decision had been, but I was still proceeding as planned. If Coach Decker asked, I’d lie. There was no other option. Soccer was the only thing I had left.
When we arrived at the practice stadium, I trailed the rest of my team members off the bus, annoyed to find more paparazzi waiting there for me. I shoved my earbuds in and turned up the volume on my music, but I could still hear them shouting.
“Andie!”
“Andie! Are you and Freddie still seeing each other?”
“What do you think about the pregnancy news, Andie?!”
Kinsley reached back and tugged me through the door before they could ask anything else.
The mood inside the stadium was different than it’d been in the weeks since we’d arrived in Rio. Everyone was tired and anxious. The final game was the next day and the tension emanating from the group was nearly tangible. We’d made it to the final round, which meant we were at least guaranteed silver. Even if we lost the game, we’d be the second best women’s soccer team in the world, but that didn’t matter. We only had eyes for gold.
“Huddle up first,” Coach Decker shouted as we dropped our bags on the benches. “We need to go over a few things before we start warm-ups.”
I grabbed for my water bottle and my shin guards then took a seat beside Kinsley on the scratchy turf. The other girls joined us, giving me a wide berth, which didn’t surprise me. Other than Kinsley and Becca, most of my teammates had treated me like a leper the last few days.
“I’m going to cut right to the chase here,” Coach Decker said, clutching her clipboard to her chest. “The doctor didn’t clear Foster for the game tomorrow, which means Erin will have to sub in—”
She said it so calmly I nearly missed it the first time around.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Kinsley spoke up. “Her doctor didn’t clear her?”
Coach Decker finally glanced my way. “I spoke to him on the phone this morning and he thinks—
“That’s bullshit!” I said, standing up. “I’m ready to play.”
I hadn’t realized I’d yelled until Coach Decker narrowed her eyes. “Andie, calm down, or I’ll ask you to leave.”
Kinsley reached for my hand and squeezed it before she continued in a diplomatic tone. “What did he say exactly? Is it broken?
Coach Decker shook her head. “It’s sprained.”
Becca groaned. “Are you kidding me? I’ve played with sprained ankles more times than I can count.”
“Exactly!” I added. “Kerri Strug won gold in ’96 by vaulting on a sprained ankle. Tiger Woods played 91 holes and won the US Open on a broken leg and torn ACL.” (Clearly, I’d done my research over the last few days.) “My wrist is nothing.”
Coach Decker shot me a warning glare. “That’s neither here nor—”
“Please let me finish. Some goalie in Manchester named Trautmann finished a match with a freaking broken neck. I’m just trying to say that this isn’t the time to play it safe. I will do anything for this team…if it will have me.” Kinsley tugged my hand until I finally relented and sat back down beside her, then she spoke up.
“Andie’s right. This should be a team vote.”
My gut clenched. My team had pulled away from me the moment news about Freddie and I had spread. It wasn’t that they thought I was some home-wrecking whore, they just hated the negative attention my relationship with Freddie was bringing to the team. As if to nail home my doubt, I glanced down to Michelle to gauge her reaction, and she glanced away, too embarrassed to even make eye contact. Yeah, great idea, Kinsley. Let’s put it to a vote.