A quick tap of the ball from their captain toward her defense started the game. My team monitored Dorothy charging down the sidelines while I surged toward the ball under Rosie's foot. She didn't move a muscle like she had all the time in the world. It turned out she did. She sidestepped me at the last second and walloped the ball a yard ahead of her running sister. 

Our defense failed miserably. Dorothy shouldered one out of the way, left another in the dust, and even smacked the tallest in the face with her blonde ponytail, and the guy was like six-foot-three. Eduardo attempted to make himself as big as possible inside the goal, but it made no difference. She shot the ball with a scary precision and force that he never stood a chance.

"Couldn't steal that, huh?" Rosie asked, bumping my shoulder

I froze, dumbstruck, as she jogged back into position on the Sea Lions' side of the field while my team prepared to get the game underway again. And I thought a glitter bomb was the worst of her mind games. This was the next level.

My nightmare didn't end there. It proved impossible to escape Rosie's antics during the twenty-minute half. She scooped the ball out from under me and saved her team from an attack; she knocked against my shoulder when the ball was on the other side of the field, and she dug the back of her heel onto the ground in strategic spots, so I tripped at the most inconvenient times.

The sheriff called for half time after I 'fell' again. I got up from the ground, grumbled under my breath, and headed toward our assigned dugout.

Eduardo poked my cheek with his goalie glove and asked, "What's with the sparkles, Wilson?"

"Torres glitter-bombed me in the locker room," I explained, distracted by Rosie sticking her tongue out at me from her team's huddle. "Screw her. I'm going to rip that ribbon right out of her skull."

"Slow down, Killer. First, that's what you get for being late. Second, Rosie and Dorothy are off limits," Izzy said, snapping her fingers at me. "Coach Connelly might be MIA, but he won't chaperone us in Seattle if he sees one hair harmed on either of his daughters' heads. They'd only need to resort to psyching us out if they're afraid they'll lose. We've got to forget petty battles and focus on the war. Right, captain?"

Eduardo confirmed, "Think of the fluffy bathrobes if we win or the Sea Lions blasting pictures of room service again if we lose."

"And Mom can't see us lose a fourth time, mkay?" Izzy said.

"You heard her. Blaze a trail, Dragons," Eduardo said.

The pep talk sent us back out onto the field with fragile hope of a comeback. I dribbled the ball to the center mark, prepared to kick off the second half. I pictured the Silver Lining Hotel's breakfast buffets to get in the zone. My daydream of chowing down fluffy Belgian waffles ended when Rosie skipped into position, laughing with two players in her defense line like she hadn't spent all her energy tormenting me. She might've had the face of an angel with her perpetual doe eyes, but she twirled that ribbon around her finger like a demon.

Izzy was right. This meant war.

We stole a page right out of the Sea Lions' playbook. Izzy shot the ball down the sidelines for me to pursue.

The short and hot bursts of air spewing out of my mouth made me feel like a real-life dragon. Rosie touched the ball first, sending it out of my reach toward the box; a rookie mistake. I chased the ball down and prepared to strike, when her unexpected slide tackle sent me to the ground. The abrupt collision knocked the wind out of me, leaving me breathless as I struggled beneath her weight.

She leaned over me, her knees outside either side of my stomach, using her palms on the grass to support herself. Her eyebrows furrowed as she examined my scrunched expression. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, unable to speak.

"So, what's your problem?" she asked.

I wheezed out, "What?"

"You've been glaring at me the entire game as if I did something to you."

"What—what do you call this?"

"It's my job to stop you from scoring?"

She had a point, but man did my ribs hurt. "There isn't time for this. We're still in play."

"We scored," she said, pointing out the cheers in the background. "It's not nice when something's done behind your back, right?"

I jerked my hips upward to buck her off and attempted, but failed, to grab at the ribbon behind her head. "You started it with your glitter bomb. Talk about a lame attempt at psychological warfare."

"Me?" she asked. "You started it when you went after someone unavailable."

"Did you hit your head? I'm not the one tackling people and holding them hostage," I said. "Where's the ref when you need her, anyway?"

Shouts broke out across the field. It turned out a more serious matter occupied Sheriff Santiago. Both teams engaged in a full-on brawl. Not a single player opted out of a scuffle. There were tangled limbs, water bottles used as weapons, and grass shoved into opposing players' mouths. Though, none of that compared to how Izzy and Dorothy rolled in the grass inside the penalty box, both screaming and tugging at each other's hair, while Eduardo cradled his bent-out-of-shape elbow behind them. Not 'harming one hair' on Coach Connelly's daughters' heads apparently didn't count when you ripped chunks out instead.

My squabble with Rosie felt small in comparison. She probably thought the same because she rolled off me and sat on the grass with an unimpressed sigh, giving me the perfect line of vision toward the middle of the field where Carter set up shop with his camera. He cataloged the chaos frame by frame. He must've focused on one Sea Lion too long because that same bobbed-haired girl knocked him over. Hard. I winced. He should've stayed safe in the bleachers instead of trying to snap exclusive shots of the commotion with his fancy—now smashed—camera.

"Can you be any more obvious?" Rosie asked, waving her hand in front of my face. "It wasn't enough Hazel cheated on me with you, but you're making heart eyes at her right in front of me, too?"

"Say what now, Torres?" I asked. She gestured toward the far end of the field where Carter and the girl, who must've been Hazel, rolled in the grass together. "The guy she's wrestling? That's my boyfriend."

"Oh, my gosh. That makes it so much worse," Rosie said before storming away.

She left me slack jawed. How could she dump that random accusation on my lap and leave? 

Sheriff Santiago used her whistle to break up the free-for-all. She gathered everyone in a circle, gave a stern talking to us, and may have mentioned throwing us in jail indefinitely. Her lecture fell on deaf ears. I was too busy trying to figure out why Rosie thought Hazel had cheated on her with me, of all people? It didn't help that Rosie straight up ignored me. She leaned on her sister's shoulder with her eyes shut, content to leave me in the dark.

My blood boiled. Because while Rosie peaced out of the situation, she forced me to scope out her ex and risk looking like I was actually giving Hazel 'heart eyes.'

Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Hazel didn't even glance my way—not once—like she didn't even know I existed. She was nice enough to help Carter pick up the pieces of his busted camera. And she even got him to laugh with a playful bump on the shoulder. 

I was this close to yelling across the group to Rosie, 'Would a girl who's been messing around with me behind your back be this nice to my boyfriend?'

It didn't seem like a good idea to add my two cents to the already hostile atmosphere. Both teams shot death glares at each other behind the sheriff's and Coach Miller's backs. Tensions boiled over with Izzy's raised middle finger aimed at the Sea Lions' captain. The gesture shut everyone up. Then, a frenzy of raised voices replaced the calm.

"Izzy." Sheriff Santiago's sharp tone silenced both teams. "Take Eduardo's truck and bring him to the hospital. I'll follow behind in a minute."

Dorothy raised her hand and said, "So, shocker, they lost again. Can we go now? Some of us have a trip to plan for."

"You broke Eduardo's arm, and that's all you care about?" Izzy asked, helping her brother off the field.

"Excuse me for wanting to know if almost hurling was worth it," Dorothy shouted at Izzy's retreating back.

Izzy shot Dorothy the middle finger over her shoulder.

"Enough," Sheriff Santiago said. "All records of this match are null and void. This is not Chesterfield. This game does not represent our town's values. Coach Miller and I have decided meaningful community service is appropriate. I'm sure Coach Connelly will agree once he hears about what happened here today. We'll give you the details once we've decided how you may give back to the community. Now, get off my field, and don't come back until you've had a serious attitude adjustment!"

Our banishment started right there and then. The walk out from the field lasted an eternity, filled with not-so-subtle grass throwing and hushed insults. Worst part? Rosie moved ahead of the group, her blue-ribbon swaying from side to side, not giving me a second thought.

Both teams' animosity toward each other made total sense. They'd beaten us every year. We'd stolen their coach. Typical high school rivalry. You know what didn't add up? Rosie accusing me of being a cheater. It wouldn't stay that way for long. I was going to find out what her problem with me was.