The late afternoon sun hangs low over the field, casting long shadows as the team moves through drills. Sweat beads at your temple, the humid air clinging to your skin, but you don’t slow down. You can’t. This is your chance to prove yourself. To show Jackie—your captain—that you belong here.

“Faster,” she calls, voice sharp but even. She stands on the sideline, arms crossed, eyes tracking your movements. “Come on, you can go harder than that.”

You press forward, forcing your legs to move faster as you weave through the cones, tapping the ball between your feet with quick, controlled touches. The grass is slick, the cleats of your teammates pounding against it as they run their own drills. The sound of a whistle cuts through the air, but you don’t let it break your focus.

As you reach the last cone, you turn sharply, send a clean, controlled pass to your teammate, and watch as they send it forward with the same precision. It’s a good pass. No—it’s a great pass. You exhale, chest rising and falling quickly as you jog back into position.

Jackie nods, just barely, but you catch it. “Better,” she says.

It’s not much, but it’s something. Coming from her, it almost feels like praise. You steal a quick glance at her as she shifts her attention to the next player, eyes narrowed, analyzing. For just a second, you swear you catch the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.