Under Pressure by Emma Carlson Berne

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.
    â€œGet 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.
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œYou’re awesome at juggling,” Sophie said encouragingly, offering her friend a squeeze bottle of Vitamin Water.
    â€œBut 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.
    â€œNooo,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “Not great.” She leaned back on her hands and lifted