#forstarters

I’d lived in an old, Southern, colonial style home at the edge of Hilton Head Island my entire life. I never knew that there was a point where a house became a home, as I had always been in a home. I didn’t know there was this epiphany after the “For Sale” sign was stripped from the yard, or when the last cardboard box was unpacked. It was a foreign concept to me until I moved in with my older sister in college.

The Soc House was horrible in every respect. It was old and was probably infested with ghosts. The porch stairs were decayed and dangerous, the wooden floors were scratched, and the old Oak tree in the front yard always swayed too close to the house. It took the whole summer repainting, tearing up flooring, landscaping, and designing to even make the place livable. Now, it was some-what of a beautiful tragedy thanks to the women’s soccer team, tied together by rent every month.

Another thing about this house that differed from my childhood home, it was nearly impossible to get the four of us in the same room back in South Carolina. However, in the Soc House it was hard to get some alone time as everyone shoved themselves into the rooms with loud arguments and loud cleats—which they shouldn’t have been wearing in the house anyway.

The only relief from the stomp of the twenty-year old toddlers was in the early mornings in the cool of early fall. I snuck down the stairs quietly, immediately heading to the kitchen. The only modern instruments we had on the ancient granite counter-tops was a toaster and a Keurig. I grabbed a breakfast blend cup and pushed it into the Keurig, moving to the fridge to scrounge up some milk and cream.

My quiet was short-lived, as it always was. Because there is the creak of feet on the stairs, yet I am used to this routine. I don’t even have to look to know Amanda Jackson has joined me in the kitchen.

The coffee brews underneath the Keurig in a purple mug, as it finishes, I immediately grab it and push it out to Amanda who takes it gratefully. “Thanks Mere.” She says with a smile, taking a long sip as she reaches into a lower cabinet to pull out a couple boxes of cereal, as well as some bread.

I take some wheat bread and push it into the toaster as Amanda stands on her tip-toes to reach some bowls in the cabinets. She pulls two out, placing them on the counter. I pull some avocado and peanut butter from various areas through the kitchen as the third set of footsteps sounds off from the creaky staircase.

Danielle comes down, scratching her head groggily. Her short, bleach blonde hair is spiked into a thousand different directions, as if she’s been electrocuted. She’s in a pair of team shorts that are nearly hidden underneath a huge tank top that reveals nearly every tattoo she has. “Morning Dan.” Amanda says.

“Hey Jax,” Dan replies as she stumbles to one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, plopping down in it, “And hey Meredith.”

I smile at her, working at spreading some avocado and garlic salt onto a piece of toast. I slide it to her, which earns me a wink. “You’re a saint Meredith, can’t say the same for your sister.” She replies, motioning upstairs.

I roll my eyes as the fourth character strolls from the stairs already fully-dressed in business clothes. He’s struggling with a tie when he looks at us in the kitchen, exasperated and frustrated. Nick’s brown hair is gelled neatly back, and he seems really put together until you see the knot that is his tie. “Babe, can you help me?” he asks Amanda.

Amanda laughs and walks over to him, tying the tie perfectly and straightening it out onto his chest. “Nick, you lived in Italy for a year without me, you’d think you’d have figured this out by now.” She plays. He just shrugs, kissing her on the forehead.

He’d bend over his cereal in a moment and curse leaving the Air Force, but then he’d catch Amanda’s eye and realize he had made the right decision. It happened each morning.

“I have an interview today. They might have me work at the VA.” He tells her, but loud enough so we can all hear him. We congratulate him as he takes a seat beside Dan, where Amanda slides him a bowl of cereal, Chex Mix to be exact.

He smiles, grabbing a spoon immediately. Then I hear the front door open and Corrie walks in with Levi in tote. They’re carrying some Starbucks coffee, but look joyful when they notice we’re making breakfast. “Fuck yes.” Corrie exclaims, hopping into the kitchen tugging Levi by the arm, “We were up all night taking pictures at clubs for Levi’s project. We’re starving!” Two more pieces of avocado toast go to them, which they gratefully take.

Then Hayden comes clambering down the stairs in a pair of sweatpants with a sports bra, she’s still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with her forearm as she enters. I make her peanut butter toast, putting it on a piece of paper towel as a peace-offering to the sleep-deprived striker. She looks at it and nods at me. It is her own way of thanking me, as I suppose a smile would ruin her dominant stance as the older sister. “Can I have some cereal too?” she asks.

Amanda and I exchange a look as the keeper pours a bowl of Captain Crunch. We knew better. Hayes never ate more than toast before practice, never. So Amanda answers, “Yes he can have some cereal if you both promise to be a bit quieter tomorrow night.”

Hayden’s cheeks flush and she shrugs, “Whatever.” She grumbles, underneath the eyes of the team mother.

“Go ahead and invite him down for breakfast too.” Dan adds from her barstool, smirking at Hayes. At least my sister knew when she had lost, a rarity in her vocabulary, she goes back upstairs and returns with a disheveled Jake Sullivan. His ebony hair is a mess, and he’s in some sweats and his flannel from the night before. It’s the first time I haven’t seen him in the Nova State staff polo. But despite just being caught with Hayes, he seems right at home. It happened almost every morning, no matter how slick the duo thought they were.

I hand him his cereal and he thanks me shyly. After everyone is fed, I focus on getting my own breakfast made. I make some more coffee, a lighter roast than Amanda’s, and pour some creamer into it. Then I grab my own bowl of cereal and make my way through the crowd into the dining room.

It’s one of the oldest parts of the house. A chandelier dangles above an old wooden table that Dan and I had bought for one hundred and five dollars from a garage sale downtown. It was my haven amidst the insanity of the Nova State Women’s Soccer team and their crazy schedule.

I usually ate alone, reading articles on my phone as the girls argued in the kitchen over stupid things like protein shake flavors and liquor brands. But today as I sit down, I notice there is someone standing in the doorway.

I look up and find Dan staring at me, leaned onto the door frame with a glass of orange juice—with a little champagne mixed in—and her toast. “Can’t let you keep eating alone gorgeous.” She grins as she prances in and takes a seat beside me at the table.

I roll my eyes at her advances, but secretly, I loved her company. However her disappearance in the kitchen has caught the eyes of everyone else. Amanda pops her head in next, “Do you guys care for some company?” she questions.

We both nod and she walks in, getting caught in the doorway for a moment as Nick has tried coming in at the same time. They laugh and he takes a step back to let his fiancé in, waving her on with his cereal bowl. They sit beside each other across from Dan and me.

“Ew,” I hear Corrie say as she peeks into the room, “We’re eating together? Like some fucked up family now?”

Levi appears behind her, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he puts a hand on her shoulder, “I think it’s cute.”

“Shut up.” She snaps at him, to which Levi simply shakes his head and pushes Corrie into the dining room. They sit down beside Nick and Amanda.

I go to take my first bite as Hayden makes her appearance, stomping in and plopping down roughly beside me. Jake is at her heels and sits down at her side at the head of the table. I note how their knees touch under the table, and Jake’s hand softly placed on the edge of my sister’s knee. They’d never show affection in front of the team. It was still awfully taboo for them, yet their undetected, yet undeniable, fondness of each other was still obvious underneath the table.

An argument began not even thirty seconds later.

Something about a hot dog being or not being a sandwich. I really couldn’t follow.

I watch as Dan points her finger accusingly at Hayden, who rolls her icy eyes and spits out some counter-argument. Jake watches her with a slight smile, in one of his rare moments when he actually looks relaxed. Corrie is laughing, poking Levi on the shoulder until he joins in, chuckling, as they listen to the stupidity of the argument. Amanda is just rolling her eyes, and Nick is stealing glances at her until she catches him over her coffee mug and they both smile.

And it was in that moment that I realized a house does become a home. After the “For Sale” sign was stripped from the yard, or when the last cardboard box was unpacked. After you learn who likes what kind of toast or what brand of cereal. Or who leaves their shoes by the door, or throws them by the couch. Which color Gatorade was who’s in the fridge. Who forgot to put a pillow behind their bed frame before sex, and who listened to loud music until one in the morning. Who took naps six times a day, and who came down the stairs first to make breakfast. After you learned that maybe the roof didn’t sag because it was old, but because it could barely hold the weight of the family within it.

That’s the moment the Soc House became the Soccer Home.

Amanda looked down at her Fitbit, “Y’all are aware that practice is in fifteen minutes right?”

My life was nothing but a strict schedule. I spent two hour-blocks in classrooms, locker rooms, and on hot turf. I’m not going to lie, I really did like it that way. However, when midterm exams began in the wake of the most detrimental part of the season, I realized that my schedule: breakfast, class, lunch, practice, film, shower, homework,  and repeat was a bit too structured.

I didn’t leave quite enough time to rest. Once again, I liked it that way.

But the lack of sleep was beginning to get to me. I noticed when I fell asleep in Chemistry. Then again when I fell asleep halfway inside of my locker with one cleat on And another time when I fell asleep during film review and drooled all over our next game notes.

I was only comparable to a zombie when I stumbled up the stairs to Jake’s place with my backpack hanging off one of my shoulders, pulling my tired body to a hilariously off-centered sway as I knocked on his door.

He opened it. We exchanged the usuals, and I walked into his apartment. I was always somewhat nervous walking in, I was scared his room-mate would spot me. But he had once before and he didn’t care, he wasn’t familiar with NCAA regulations either so he wouldn’t report us.

Jake paused in his kitchen before going to his room, “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

I had apparently caught him in the act of changing, as he still had his khaki pants on from work, but his polo shirt had been replaced with a soft, loosely fitted long-sleeve that seemed more fit for lounging.

“Uh, water.” I say after a weird amount of time, as it had taken me twice as long as usual to comprehend the statement and come up with an answer.

Jake chortles, reaching into his fridge for a bottle of water. “No offense Hay, but you look dead.” he says, tossing me a cold bottle.

I am barely able to catch it, reacting a little too slow and I mumble, “Sorry, I’m just a little off today.”

“Alright, we can only practice like a chapter tonight.” Jake said as we made the familiar shuffle to his room at the far left end of the apartment.

We walked in and I placed my backpack right by the door, underneath one of his many superhero posters and grabbed my textbook from the bag. I usually sat in his desk chair, bobbing on it to keep myself entertained as we worked as he sat at the edge of his bed right across from the chair.

But tonight he’s just standing there, looking at me expectantly, motioning to the bed. I give him an odd look, which he returns with, “The bed’s more comfortable, I feel bad always giving you the chair.”

If it were any other day I’d argue, but I just nod, “Thanks.” I say as I plop down onto the bed. I realize, oddly enough, that this is the first time I’ve been on his bed. It’s weird to me, considering all that we’ve been up to, but it seems like we’re always on the road.

He has that stupid plaid-looking comforter and pillow set that I feel every man in his twenties has before he’s settled down. It’s typical Walmart bachelor.

But I bash on them too quick, because it’s soft and comfy. Jake sits down in his desk chair, opening his text book to read off something about Equilibrium. K= something, that’s basically what I got from fuzzily listening to him read the introduction to the Chemistry section.

I yawn, rubbing my eyes as we begin our first set of practice problems. We finish about three, and I ask him about his answers and vice versa. Then I just lay back on his bed, yawning again as I lie to myself and him, “I’m just gonna rest my back for a second while you read the next section.”

Jake nods, and I catch his eye. He seems a bit worried, but not in a way that Chemistry would make him, rather he looks like a concerned parent. I fall asleep for a split-second, and I relax a bit too much and my notebook slides off of my lap and into the floor, waking me.

I pop up, rubbing my eyes again. “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.” I tell Jake as I bend down to pick up my book.

“Tired?” Jake stands up from his chair, leaning down to pick up the stuff for me, “Hayes, you’re exhausted.”

“I’m really fine, I’ve done the same thing all semester.” I argue as he puts my stuff back on my lap.

He shakes his head, “Exactly, you’ve built up countless hours of sleepless nights. I can only imagine how much you need to catch up on.”

I shrug, “That’s kinda dramatic.”

“You need to sleep.” Jake pushes sternly as he sits down beside me on the edge of the bed, pulling my notebook out of my lap. He places it onto his desk, “Please. Before you actually fall over dead. Not to mention you need to rest before exams next week.”

I don’t want to accept defeat, but I really did want to sleep. I yawned again just by looking at my bookbag tucked by the door, and sighed, “I don’t know, I’ve got a long trek back to the dorm to have come over here for nothing.”

“Stay here.”

Jake said it so quickly that it kind of took me off-guard and we look at each other, relieved for some reason. I rub my arm meekly, beginning to feel guilty about such an invitation. “I don’t know…” I trail off, falling back onto the bed, “Fuck it.”

Jake laughs, “Exactly. Go ahead and crawl into bed, I’ll go grab you an extra blanket off the couch.”

Before I could protest Jake disappeared, and my body automatically just put myself into bed. My mind unwillingly agreed as I hit the pillow. I was already halfway asleep when Jake returned, when he saw me bundled up he kind of stopped in the doorway.

I opened one eye a little to see him there holding the extra blanket, he padded over and put the blanket over me. He moved it closer to me, tucking me in. He accidentally touches my chin and we both smile slightly. Then he grabs a pillow from behind me and starts to leave his room again.

I stop him, “Where are you going?” I question groggily.

“The couch.” Jake replied.

“Are you kidding me?” I groaned, “Are we gonna act like we haven’t slept together before?”

Jake shrugs in the doorway and I turn over in my nest of blankets and pat the empty space beside me, “It’s your bed after all.”

He seems happy I offered and slides into bed with me. A few awkward exchanges, I accidentally elbow him in the face, and then I’m tucked in his arms somehow. He rests his chin atop of my head and I really don’t remember much else.

I woke up in a panic, as if I had forgotten where I was. I recollected myself, rubbing some sleep from my eye. I looked around. Jake was nowhere to be found. I looked over at the nightstand to find my phone there, he had plugged it in for me. And beside my phone was a fresh water bottle and a bagel.

It was cold now though. I reached over, going for my phone when his bedroom door opened and he walked in. He saw me, smiling as he took one earphone out of one of his ears, “You’re awake, not going to lie, I thought you died.”

I blink blankly at him, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Nearly twenty hours now. Practice is in two, I was actually coming in to wake you. I went ahead and went to class, just decided I could leave you here to sleep in.” He tells me with a soft smile.

I hated him for being so irresistibly loveable.

The next fews days ahead of exams, I told Kelani everyday when I returned to the dorm that I was staying with Corrie for a few nights, and I’d find myself stumbling sleepily back to Jake’s bed each night.

I finally felt rested, and I got a B- on my Chemistry midterm exam.

As I began writing For Starters in the seventh grade (2012) , beginning with a story only featuring Hayden Cole (then Lilly Kole), Jake Sullivan (then Jake Argent), and Danielle Freeman, the purpose of the story was simply to entertain. To say the story and its characters have grown seems a bit of an understatement. Plots have changed, characters became real, and more people joined the crew to form the final product you are able to witness today circa 2019. 

I also find that the purpose of For Starters has changed as well. It is still a story (a funny one I hope) that entertains and engages a reader into the lives of the characters I’ve grown to love like friends. However, I’ve done a lot of research—and in many cases experienced—a majority of the conflicts all my characters experience as female athletes. 

This story is for everyone, and I want it to everyone welcome to whoever finds themselves laughing at the dumbasses on Nova State University’s soccer team.

  This story is for female athletes. 

But it’s also for depressed teens. It’s for people dealing with loss. Those of you who are toxic perfectionists or who struggle with learning to love yourself. It’s a story for those who have failed, succeeded, or struggled with both. For the young women who struggle with sexuality, and the ones who don’t. People who have been bullied physically or on social media. Those of you that struggle addiction. People from every background, state, and country. 

As I grew up, so did this story, and so did all the terrifying conflicts of real-life. 

For Starters might be about a group of soccer players, but strip away their jerseys and they are people struggling as we do every day. So I consider this my story. But most importantly, I would love for you to consider this your story. Find your struggles, issues, and insecurities in the words and we can learn to overcome them together as a team with laughter, because that is the purpose after all.