Under Pressure

Text copyright © 2013 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

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The images in this book are used with the permission of: Front cover: © Chris Crisman/CORBIS.
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/ Ermin Gutenberger, (stadium lights).

Main body text set in Janson Text 12/17.5.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publications Data

Berne, Emma Carlson.

Under pressure / by Emma Carlson Berne.

    p.    cm. —(Counterattack)
ISBN 978-1-4677-0303-1 (lib. bdg. : alk. paper)
[1. Soccer—Fiction. 2. Weight control—Fiction.

3. Eating disorders—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B455139Un 2013
[Fic][Fic]—dc23

2012025238

Manufactured in the United States of America
1 - BP - 12/31/12

eISBN: 978-1-4677-0958-3 (pdf)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-3121-8 (ePub)

eISBN: 978-1-4677-3120-1 (mobi)

 . . .

TO LEO, MY NEWEST LITTLE
DISTRACTION

T
he ball was a little white dot against a crisp, blue sky. Elise was amazed at how Becca Miller, the Copperheads' goalie, had put every bit of her impressively muscled right leg into her punt. A defender and a forward jockeyed for position while the ball headed back to earth, three-quarters of the way downfield. Both players got a bit of the ball with their heads, and it bounded away into the open field.

“Get on it, Elise!” Coach Berg screamed from the sideline as Elise lurched into an awkward sprint, lungs already screaming. She was fifteen yards from the ball but so was Lacy Sheridan. Lacy seemed to hit top speed in two strides. She was a step ahead of Elise. With one defender between Lacy and the goal, Elise began losing ground. Lacy cut toward the goalpost, and Elise stumbled to the turf. She looked up to watch Lacy slam the ball into the net, easily evading the goalie.

Coach Berg blew his whistle, and Elise knew what was coming. “Juggling drill, everyone! Now! Elise, you've got to win those fifty-fifty balls!”

The players scrambled for the loose balls scattered around the edge of the field. Elise trailed behind the group, trying to swallow the lump that had risen in her throat.

“You seriously cannot look so sad,” a voice said. Elise looked over to see her best friend and fellow midfielder, Sophie Lange, by her side, Sophie's blonde braid bouncing on her shoulders as she walked.

Elise looked around. No one but Sophie was within earshot. Elise allowed herself an audible sigh. “Did you hear Coach? ‘Get on those fifty-fifty balls,'” she mimicked. “I'm such a slug. If I just had a little more speed …”

Sophie patted Elise's arm as they each grabbed a ball and joined the long line of players, planting their balls down on the grass in front of them. Coach blew his whistle, and each player lifted the ball with her toe and started bouncing it from foot to foot. Absently, Elise kept the ball in play, right foot, left foot, right, left, occasionally catching a stray bounce against her chest but always returning the ball to her foot. But her mind kept floating back to the scrimmage.
Just a little more stamina
, she thought.
A little more conditioning. That's all I need.

One by one, each player's ball bounced onto the springy, green turf, and the players who were out stood around, chatting idly and watching those who remained. Elise kept the ball in play, as she always did, until even Sophie's ball flew out of her control. Her friend let out a hiss of defeat. Elise shot her a quick smile. Now, only she and Lacy were left. When Elise glanced up quickly, she could see the sweat gleaming on Lacy's forehead and hear her panting as she struggled not to let the ball bounce away. Elise bounced the ball off her left foot, then her chest, then her left foot again. Juggling was one thing that had always come easily to her. It was like breathing. She barely had to think about it.

Lacy's ball finally hit the grass, and Coach Berg blew his whistle again. “Nice work, players. Good job, Elise.” But he was already turning away as he offered the last bit of praise. Elise knew why. All the ball-handling skill in the world didn't matter unless she had some power and stamina behind it.

Sophie motioned her over to the sideline, and Elise plopped down on the damp grass a little way off from the rest of the players.

“You're awesome at juggling,” Sophie said encouragingly, offering her friend a squeeze bottle of Vitamin Water.

“But not sprinting or really booting the ball.” Elise squeezed a stream of water into her mouth. Her tongue felt like a salt flat after the long scrimmage. It was the first really hot day of spring, and it was only April. In Fraser, North Carolina, spring came early.

“Nooo,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “Not great.” She leaned back on her hands and lifted her face to the hot sun.

“Just like always.” Elise stared at a dirt stain on her knee. “Skilled, but not strong. Those four words sum up my entire soccer career.”

“Do you really think three and a half years of high school soccer can be called a career?” Sophie asked, still staring up at the blue sky.

Elise scrubbed at the dirt stain with her equally dirty fingers.

“How about fourteen years total? Tot soccer, elementary league, middle school league, travel team, and now high school. Doesn't
that
sound like a career?” Elise gazed dolefully out at the empty field. The lone ball still sat in the net of the goal, looking like a turtle draped in a veil. “And always, I've never been able to get strong enough. I work out, I eat right, but still, I'll never be a muscle-machine like Lacy.” She bit her lip. “I mean, I can
do
it—pass, defend, the usual. And I can scrape by. But that's about it.”

A burst of laughter floated over to the two girls, and they looked toward the other players. Coach Berg was perched on his little folding camp stool, hunched over his clipboard as if it contained all the secrets of the world. Behind him, Madison Wong and Becca were cracking up at Dayton Frey and Alyssa Duncan, who were doing some kind of dance step that made them look like Frankenstein. Elise couldn't help but notice the chiseled, polished look of their legs. With a sigh, she stretched her legs out in front of her. They might as well be sausages by comparison.
Fat and flabby
, Elise thought morosely.

“Look at Madison.” Sophie pointed to the petite girl with long, dyed-red hair. “She's a pretty amazing player, but she's totally stressed out all the time. Did you see her crying before the game against Chapel Hill Prep?”

Elise considered this, tracing up and down her leg with a blade of grass. “Yeah, but she's amazing in the clutch. She can't be that much of a mess if she's such a good player.”

Sophie shrugged and got to her feet as Coach Berg stood up and blew his whistle.

“I don't know. I'd rather be just okay, instead of amazing and miserable,” Sophie said.

“In a group over here, please, ladies!” Coach Berg called, motioning the players to his side.

Elise trailed after Sophie, turning her friend's last words over in her mind. She snorted quietly to herself. Sophie was wrong.
How could you be amazing
and
miserable? Wouldn't just
being
an amazing player make you happy?

Coach Berg was already talking, reading something from his clipboard to the clustered players. His words swirled meaninglessly around Elise's ears until suddenly a phrase snapped her to attention. “Ryan Jacobs, the UNC scout will be visiting at the end of the month. I'm sure he'll be favorably impressed by you all.” The coach capped his pen and shoved it behind his ear. “That's it—get outta here.”