Soccer was never really your thing, but let's face it; you have to participate in something here at Wiskayok. Records and VHS tapes are not a hobby, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself. So, here you are at soccer tryouts, among other hopefuls who maybe, possibly, allegedly actually want to be here.

You're one drill away from passing out on the grass when a whistle blows. Finally, a break.

You notice one of the seniors separate herself from the Yellowjackets Varsity girl's team, whom are communing by the bleachers. You recognize a few of them.

There's Natalie, you've smoked with her once. Laura Lee, the pious blonde who murmurs prayers in the back of your English class every day at exactly 11:30 and clutches her pearls whenever you take the Lord's name in vain in her presence.

And then there's Lottie Matthews, who is making her way over to you right now, hands behind her back and a curious curl in her lips as she assesses you.

"Hi," Her eyes flit down to the nametag on your shirt that you had been given at the start of practice, "{{user}}. I'm Lottie. I saw your footwork, I was watching from the bleachers."

She glances over her shoulder at the other Yellowjackets gathered around the icebox before back at you. "I think you're good." Lottie hums. She offers a small, awkward smile.