CHAPTER ONE:
The Coral Bay Pirates.

             LENNON

              My mom, Jackie Sawyer had been a Coral Bay Pirate. She had signed for the team in her freshman year and had become the Captain by her junior year. Her picture was in frames in the trophy-cabinet, show-casing a big smile and a pretty face. She had been ethereal in her younger years with a picture-perfect smile. Her name was on trophies, plaques. She had been loved by Coral Bay and everyone in it back then.

                Beside all of her achievements, was a picture of her in her later years, still smiling. Beneath the picture, were the words 'in memorium'. I stood in front of the trophy cabinet, staring at my mothers face smiling back at me. My mother had been a hero to our small Califronian town, she had been the first person to drive the team all the way to Nationals—and the last. The Coral Bay Pirates hadn't qualified since. But that wasn't why the '98 Coral Bay Pirates were so beloved, it was because most of them had died. My mom had just died later in life, unlike the rest of the team.

               It was something the town didn't like to talk about anymore, not now that everyone was pretending to be woke and sensitive about others feelings. But on the way back from winning Nationals, the plane had crashed, sending the teenage soccer team into the wilderness. Most of them had died on impact or later succumbed to their injuries. The others, however, like my mom—they had survived two months on that island before they were rescued. That's why my moms picture wasn't the only one with 'in memoriam' below it. This was the only way Coral Bay honoured them, otherwise the town would rather forget how the girls had suffered. How my mom had suffered. The crash might not have killed my mom on impact; but it had killed her, inside and in the end.

               I brought my fingers to my lips, kissing them before putting them against the glass, "I miss you, mom. We're gonna make you proud—June and I, we're gonna do it. We're gonna take us to Nationals." I promised her, speaking as though I knew she could hear me. And maybe she could, maybe she couldn't. I wasn't much of a believer in God, not like my mother had been. But I liked to believe that she could hear me from wherever she was.

At the end, she had held mine and June's hands and promised us she was going somewhere better, somewhere pain didn't exist. If the Heavens were real, they had took my mom from me and I couldn't quite grasp the concept of how that could ever be a good thing. But she had believed. And that was enough for me to believe that she could hear me sometimes, when I wanted her to.

              "Lennon! Come on, we need you in there!" I turned my head, seeing Imani poking her own head out of the locker-room door, her hiry hair tied into two buns on the top of her head.

              "Coming!" I called back to her before turning to look at my mothers face one last time. And I could almost swore I could see her smiling back at me.

             I adjusted my blue and white shorts and headed for the locker-room. It was half-time and Coach had us in the locker-rooms, screaming her head off about how we were pulling out kicks and being too afraid to go in for the tackle. I couldn't say she was wrong, because she wasn't. The other team were far bigger than us and that intimidated a lot of our players. The score was 3-2 and we had to do better if we were to be qualified for Nationials. This was it, this was the big-winning game. It was now or never.

                 When I pushed through the doors, the first thing I could hear was the sound of my teammates yelling over one another. I sighed heavily and walked to where they were huddled between the lockers, gesturing wildly with their hands and blaming each other.
I looked around, catching Coach's gaze who threw her hands up in exasperation, growing quickly annoyed with the group of teenagers. Coach wasn't afraid to tell us when we were playing terribly—but it was obvious it was out of her hands now, no one cared about what she had to say. They just wanted to argue.

              Noticing an opened locker beside me, I slammed it shut, catching everyone's attention and sending them into a silence as they noticed me standing in front of them, my arms crossed at my chest, "What kinda bullshit is this?" I began saying, watching as everyone diverted their gazes upon noticing my presence. "We blaming each other now? Cause I know for a fact, that's not my team. We don't do that shit here. That score is no ones fault—"

               "Actually, if Abby didn't let that goal through the net then we would—"

             "Fuck you, Imani!" Abby exclaimed, quickly getting to her feet from where she had been sitting on the bench, fiddling with her shoelaces. Abby was our goalie—and she was a fucking good one at that. I knew tensions were just running high, otherwise my team would never be bringing each other down like that. At least, not to their faces.

               Everyone began screaming at each other again and I quickly threw my hands up, "Enough!" I yelled over them, clapping my hands together. I began weaving my way through them, staring them down. "Y'all just wanna pack up and go fucking home, is that it? Cause no ones stopping you! I mean it, you don't wanna play then get the fuck out! But if you stay, then quit the whining because I'm not listening to it, alright?" I looked through the faces of my team mates staring back at me, though some wouldn't meet my eyes. Meanwhile, Coach was smiling to herself.

              I looked by Coach and to June, pleading her with my eyes to agree with me but she wouldn't look at me. We had fought just before the game had started, a conflict of opinions—which happened more times than I'd like to admit. But truthfully, we just got on each other's nerves and then both had to deal with the consequences. This time, June hasn't agreed with my tactics for the game and maybe she had been right because we were losing, but it was too late to admit that. At least, whilst she was still holding a grudge.

              Realising she wasn't going to work with me, I continued, "Look, I get that they're bigger than us—"

              "And stronger too." Maggie added in a small voice. Maggie was our left winger and she was a hot-shot. She was tiny at 4'11 but she was fast as fuck and would literally zoom by me at inhuman rates on the pitch. She was one hell of a player, but from how tiny she was, I could understand her fear to give it her all against a team far larger than her.

              "You're right. But what is it Coach always says, huh?" I asked them, looking between their faces.

               Imani sighed, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall." She piped in and I nodded my head.

                "Exactly. We are so much faster than they are and we have to use that to our advantage. I know it's scary, but we can't be afraid to go in for the tackle, not if we want to go to Nationals, alright?" There was a few mumbles in response. I settled one hand on my hip and then held the other out. "Everyone, bring it in." I ordered, waiting for them to follow to my command. Which they did, one by one.

                 Soon, we were in a huddle, our hands piled onto one another. I looked amongst them, my eyes momentarily landing on my sisters, "Alright. Let's fucking do this shit."

               Sweat dripped down my neck and down the length of my spine. It was as if the heat and exhaustion I was feeling were reminding me how hard I had worked to get to where I was. And that there was no room for error—no room for fuck-ups. Coach herself had told us that in the changing room before the game but she didn't have to, especially not after my reminder during half-time. We didn't have a choice but to put our all into the last minutes we had. Our futures were riding on that pep-talk working, along with making my mom proud.

               "Lennon, I'm open!" I had got so caught up in my thoughts that I had almost forgotten that I was on the pitch, carrying the ball towards the opposing teams net with my feet. We had managed to get to a draw, the score sitting at 4-4 but we needed the win to go to Nationals. A draw wouldn't do.

                I glanced to my right, momentarily catching my sister's eyeliner-rimmed eyes. Her hair was tied back, only loose strands of platinum blonde hair falling loose alongside her fringe that was clinging to her forehead sweat. She was waving her arm at me. And she was open. But then I remembered our argument before the game and why she hadn't helped me our during the half-time pep-talk. How we had gotten into a spitting match with each other over our different tactic ideas. Some of the team agreed with her but the majority agreed with me—the team Captain, and it had caused a fight. A big one.

               June had told me to fuck off right before marching out of the changing room, ponytail swinging at the back of her head. I had given her the middle finger even though she was already gone. We often fought like that, both having fiery personalities. We clashed, like most siblings. Our father often told us it was because we were twins—because we were born from the same womb, we were the same. Too alike.

                "Lennon!" June urged, jumping up and down to grab my attention.

                In my peripheral vision, I could see number 8 on the opposite team running at me, prepared to challenge me for the ball. And I knew that she was good—she had scored the majority of their goals. So I had to think fast.
I feigned kicking the ball to June but then rolled the ball behind me, right out of the reach of number 8's slide tackle. I jumped over her feet and passed the ball to Maggie. Or attempted to.

                  Number 14 on the opposite team–the Captain—came swooping in and stole the ball right out from Maggie's size 3 feet, tripping her up and onto her face, "Shit!" I yelled in frustration, holding my head in my hands as the ref blew the whistle to check on Maggie who was flat on her face. I had fucked up. Majorly. And now the rest of the team would suffer the consequences.

               June suddenly barged into me, knocking me forward a few paces, "What the fuck, Len? I was open!" She yelled at me, her slender shoulders rolled back and for a brief moment, I was prepared to fight my own sister on the pitch. It wouldn't have been the first time our sisterly arguments turned physical and probably not the last.

              I stepped towards her, up in her personal space. It was intimidation game and we played it with each other very often. It was a challenge to see who would tap out first. It was usually me, being less of a fighter than June who often got into fist-fights. But this time, the heat of the day and the game was gnawing at me, making me restless and agitated. And June had just been pissing me off.

                  I shoved her back, "I saw a chance and I took it, okay? That's what Captains do, June, they see a shot and they take it—"

                "Oh, fuck you, Lennon!" She yelled back, giving me another shove, earning another from me.

                  Imani was suddenly between us, wedging a gap between us, "Get a grip, the both of you," Imani was my best friend and I knew that if it wasn't during the middle of a game, she would be on my side. But she didn't give a shit about our sisterly quarrels when our futures were on the line. "Maggie's down and we can't have y'all fighting. Alright? So fucking snap out of it." I glanced at Imani, taking in how her almond skin was glistening with sweat that made her cheekbones look highlighted, as if on purpose, like makeup or something. But Imani was just naturally flawless. She was also very right.

                   I sighed, turning to my sister, "June–"

                 "Go fuck yourself, Lennon." June barged into my shoulder before running towards Maggie whilst the Ref bent over her, checking if she was okay. Coach was there too with a can of antifreeze in her hands, just in case.

                  Imani rolled her eyes at me, "If she wasn't your sister, I'd have murdered her for that attitude by now." She told me as we began jogging towards Maggie who was sitting on her knees, clutching her nose. Not the nose, I thought to myself, not Maggie's dainty little nose.

                  I side-eyed Imani, "Trust me if she wasn't my sister, I'd have murdered her already." Imani scoffed at my comment. Not in a disbelieving way but in a 'yeah, I know' kind of way. If anyone knew how much June and I fought, it was Imani; she had witnessed it the most. She had been around since we were in diapers and witnessed it all.

                Taking in Maggie accepting the tissue the Ref gave her to wipe her bleeding nose, I winced, "Shit, Maggie. You wanna sit it out? We can sub." I suggested, knowing that her nose must have been aching and that we had rolling subs waiting to get their shot on the pitch—Rebecca and Julie were especially amped up and ready to go.

                I had broken my nose once during a game two years back when the base of my nose had smacked against the knee of a player on the rival team. It had hurt and my eyes had watered involuntarily and I had to convince the Ref that I wasn't crying and that I could still play. But shit, did it hurt and my vision was blurred for the rest of that game. I could understand if Maggie wanted to tap out—especially when her injury was my fault.

                 Maggie sniffled, blood smeared around her nose and the tissue in her hand. I favoured Maggie without realising it sometimes because she was so small and dainty. I often imagined her as a ballerina. Not a soccer player. But either way, she was shit-hot on the field and one of our best players. We would definitely feel the loss of her on the pitch and it seemed that after the pep-talk in the locker-room, she was really going for the ball again.

                 Maggie shook her head, "No, I'm good. I'll play on." She said, rubbing her nose with the bloodied tissue one more time before handing it back to the Ref.

                I grinned at her, "Atta girl." I offered her my hand which she took and I pulled her to her feet and gave her back a comforting and supportive pat that said 'you've got this'.

                 The Ref declared that we had a free kick. Coach screamed at us from the sidelines that there was only one minute left of the game. And we were drawing 4-4. We had to score. Our futures were depending on it. Winning Nationals meant being State Champions—and we would be awarded a scholarship at the school of our choosing. We needed it.

               The next few moments came like a blur. As a team, we were yelling at each other, trying to figure out the next best course of action. It was usually us strikers that took the kicks, June and I. But there were other players that really wanted the winning goal. And if we got the goal, we'd be on our way to Nationals.

               Before I knew it, it was down to me and June to make the decision on who should take the free kick after everyone decided it was for the best. We had the best kicks and everyone knew it.

                 June and I stood in front of each other, "Settle this the usual way?" June's voice held agitation as she rested a fist on the palm of her hand and stared at me expectantly with her big-blue eyes, rimmed with liner. Sometimes I hated that she had got our moms eyes whilst I had my dads brown ones. She always had a gaze so striking it often made people gulp.

             Rock, paper, scissors—that's what June was asking. It's how we usuallym decided who took the free-kick or penalty or whatever else it was.

             I found myself shaking my head as a trickle of sweat dripped down the side of my face, "No, it's okay. It's yours." I didn't realise the words had left my lips until June was smirking at me. Without saying it, we had both said we were sorry and had made up after our fight. I let June take the goal she would have scored before Maggie's injury and she let me not be a shitty sister.

               June nodded and we all got in place. She lined the ball up and gave the Ref the thumbs-up. The whistle blowing was like white noise in my ear as June took a few steps backwards to run at the ball, her eyes lining it up. And when she did take the run, my lungs completely seized up. Nationals. If she scored, we'd be going to Nationals.

               June ran at the ball and kicked it. The ball soared by me and over the heads of every player as it curved through the air, in slow-motion. June was amazing with the ball—she had the ability to curve it into the goal like nothing I had ever seen before.

                The goalie jumped. Her fingertips grazed the ball but in the end, June's kick had been too powerful and the ball slammed into the back of the net. We all collectively lost our shit.

                "Holy shit! Holy shit!" I screamed, running at my sister with my arms open as she ran towards me, grinning her head off as she did the aeroplane run with her arms spread out at her side. Victory. We had won. We were on our way to Nationals.

               We collided, knocking the wind out of each other but neither of us gave a shit. The whistle blew, announcing the end of the game but the game had already ended the moment June took her shot.

              The rest of the team was on top of us in an instant, including Coach and our subs.
We were in a bone-crushing huddle. The smell of sweat mixed with perfume was strong but not a single one of us gave a shit as we jumped up and down, chanting and screaming, "Nationals! Nationals! Nationals!"

                 The team had been overjoyed and any petty arguments beforehand had been long forgotten. Coach and her son, Ethan had poured fizzy drinks over our heads in the locker room as we celebrated, soaking us to the bone but none of us had cared—well, maybe Imani and Brooklyn cared. Their hairs were important to them and Brooklyn has cursed Ethan out whilst smacking his arm.

                I had slipped myself in the shower afterwards, smiling the entire time as I washed myself. Music was playing through the locker room to our Pirates playlist on Coach's phone—it was a mixture of all our favourite hype songs.

               Now that we were going to Nationals, the celebrations began. We would have to stand in front of Headmaster Allen so that he could congratulate us personally and explain to us once again the importance of being State Champions. And when we would return, there would be a massive pep rally in our honour—if we won, or if we didn't. They would celebrate our going to Nationals either way. But we wanted to come back as winners.

                 I was sitting in my towel after my shower when Imani suddenly yelled out, "Shit!" And within seconds, she was marching towards me in her hot-pink underwear set. She threw herself onto the bench beside me as I was pulling my socks on my feet. "Look who also got through to Nationals." She tilted her phone towards me, showing the Instagram story of Ivy Kingston. She was the Captain of the Red Devils, the other soccer team in Coral Bay from the high school on the rougher side of town. Well, rougher than our white-picket all-American family standards.

                The story image showed Ivy Kingston at the front, holding the phone and the rest of her team-mates squeezed in the frame behind her, all smiling and celebrating. The caption was 'nationals, baby!'. I immediately found myself cringing—not at the picture, because they all looked fucking amazing, but at the fact they had also gone through to Nationals and would now be competing alongside us.

             If there was one thing that had always been the same in Coral Bay was that the town was divided into two sides. Myself and my fellow team mates were fortunate enough to be born in the Coral Grove area, where fancy houses lined streets with picket-white fencing and expensive cars parked in driveways. The Red Devils however, they came from the other side of town, literally named Red Devil. It was the side that was for those less fortunate than us. Some were so poor it was crippling whilst others managed to get by just fine, but either way, it had cast a divide across the town. It had been that way since long before we were all born and despite us never being the ones to start it, we were never the ones to end it either.

              We all fit into our sides of town and didn't get along with each other. The Pirates and the Red Devils never got along in any situation and it mostly ended in fist-fights. I had learned that personally last year when Ivy and I had got into a physical fight after both our teams had ended up at the same party. She had been giving June shit and I, in all my drunken glory, had punched her in the face. The fight was broke apart by our teammates before it had the chance to get really bad. So, yeah, we didn't like each other.

                  "No fucking way." I said, my jaw dropping, though I wasn't really sure why. I knew the Red Devils were good, hell, we had played them during the competition for Nationals and we had both drew. They were a brutal team and we had worked up one hell of a sweat playing them. But still, it bugged me to know that they had made it too—that Ivy's team had made it.

               "What's going on?" June asked, approaching us. She had went into the shower with her makeup still on and mascara and eyeliner stained her undereye, as though she had been weeping.

               "Red Devils got through to Nationals." I told her, taking Imani's phone and turning it to face June who crouched down to look, standing in a baggy t-shirt and cycling shorts.

                "Well, shit," She said, exhaling through her mouth. "Guess that means we're gonna be seeing a lot of those bitches." She said, sitting down beside me and crossing her legs into a basket. Her platinum blonde shaggy-mullet was soaking wet, dripping water droplets onto her top.

               "I will literally snap one of their ankles with my studs." Imani insisted.

              "Who's ankles are you snapping?" Brooklyn asked as she appeared in an all pink Juicy Coutre tracksuit with the writing on the bottom. Brooklyn was so bougie it made Paris Hilton look like nothing—along with Imani.

                 "Red Devils." I chirped, glancing back at her.

                  "May Christ compel those little demons." Abigail said as she entered, still wrapped in her towel like myself, long blonde curly hair stretching down the length of her spine.

                 "A-fucking-men." Imani said, putting her hands together as Eden entered, her wet blonde-brown hair in a tight ponytail and her cross necklace sitting against her collarbones.

            I nudged Imani who shot me a death glare. Eden pretended not to have heard her fellow teammates but I knew that she did. The thing about Eden was, she came from a crazy Christian family, and not just like, goes to church every Sunday kinda Christian, but super fucking devout. In my entitre time of knowing Eden she had never cursed, smoke, drank or did anything remotely bad. She was an absolute Saint in the image of her Heavenly Father and to those around her. Honestly, it was shocking she put up with any of us.

                  "I think it's a good thing," Eden began saying and everyone turned to face her, wondering how the hell going to Nationals with the literal spawns of Satan could be a good thing. She pulled out her clothes from her locker and set them down on the bench beside me, "I mean, a bit of friendly competition is always encouraged. It's when we play our best." She continued, a smiling forming on her lips.

                 I scoffed, but not at her expense, "I don't think its so friendly, Ede." I told her, giving a small smile.

                 "Either way, I just want y'all to at least try to be nice?" Everyone exchanged looks. "I mean, it's not good sportsmanship if we're fighting each time we're around them. Our Hevenly Father only gives his strongest of battles to those he knows can handle it—and we can handle it—as a team. Without getting violent." I offered Eden a sympathetic smile at the end of her religious tandem.

               Imani pursed her lips together, "I love you, Ede. But fuck that." She said, getting up on her feet and rummaging through her locker for her clothes.

                   Hailey entered, wearing sweats and a bandeau top. Her brown hair had recently got pink streaks through it, something she had done spontaneously after breaking up with her long-term boyfriend, "Eden on one of her Jesus rants again?" She asked in a bored voice, scrolling through her phone as she went, not bothering to look up. Hailey used to go to church, back before she discovered sex. Now, she would rather die than visit the Holy place.

                   "Leave her be, Hails." Rebecca said as she entered, wearing a silk robe, short red hair clinging to her wet neck.

                 Hailey held her hands up in surrender and went back to scrolling on her phone.

                 I glanced over at Eden, "Sorry, Ede. Everyone's just a little bit too competitive for their own good... Especially Imani." I apoligised. I knew that Eden pretended like the things her teammates said didn't bother her but I could tell that it did. She just didn't like confrontation. And our team were very confrontational.

                 "I heard that, you little bitch!" Imani called over her shoulder.

                   I smiled at her, "You were supposed to!" I chirped before standing up. "Everyone get dressed, we've got to see Headmaster Pervert before we go." I reminded them, opening my locker to retrieve my clothes.

                    Hailey glanced up from her phone, a flat look on her face, "Yay. Can't wait."

          AUTHORS NOTE.
          Hey, guys and thanks for reading! This is one of the longer chapters but I promise there are ones that are much shorter! I'm so excited for y'all to read this and (hopefully) fall in love with these characters as much as I have! Having a large amount of characters in one book is one hell of a challenge, but I hope you can all see their own individuality as the book goes on!

             Please let me know your thoughts, it would mean so much to me! And I wanted to give a big shoutout to those who follow me on tiktok and have given this book so much love on my edits without even knowing much about it, y'all are the reason I'm even publishing this! So thank you guys and I love each of you <3

             — taylor xx