Under Pressure (5 page)

O
ne week left before the Visit—that's how Elise had started to think of it. She felt as if she were drowning. She was still only decent at practice. There had been no more spectacular plays on her part.

On Monday, in the bathroom, Elise stared down at the scale. The red digital numbers flashed: 110. She stepped off the scale and slowly slid her back down the cold, tiled bathroom wall until she was sitting on the floor.

She'd done it. She'd lost the weight. Even the girls on the team had remarked on it. But the drain on her was overwhelming. All she wanted to do was sleep. And her pills … she only had a few left. The package was supposed to come tomorrow. Propelled by the thought, Elise rose to her feet and made her way down the hall. She pulled out her stash in her room—and stopped.

Every blister was punched. No pills left. She must have taken the last ones yesterday and not realized it.

Elise swallowed hard.
It'll be okay. The new ones will come tomorrow
, she comforted herself.
I can go twenty-four hours without them.

 . . .

Tuesday and Wednesday passed, but the pills didn't arrive, even though Elise flew home both days after school to check. She felt as if she were being consumed by quicksand. The Visit was Friday—Friday! Her future, everything, was on the line. Her newly chiseled self would be taking the field. But she couldn't play without the pills.

For sure, she told herself, they'd come on Thursday.
Why? Why do you think they'll come Thursday, hmm?
a little voice in her head asked.
Because they have to, that's why.

The rest of the week seemed to drag on meaninglessly. Shopping with Sophie at the mall. Trying on size 4 jeans for the first time. An interminable dinner with her parents at a pizza parlor. Elise only ate two bites, avoiding her parents' gaze while their wondering eyes clung to her.

The pills will be here tomorrow
, she thought.
Of course they will.

Thursday meant school, a trig quiz with every answer left blank. At lunchtime, one banana. Dayton yelled from across the cafeteria between swigs of Pepsi.

Ignore her
, Elise thought.
Focus on tomorrow. Nothing matters but tomorrow. If only the pills would come. If only I wasn't so tired.

At the final bell she ignored Sophie.
Get home
, she thought.
Get home.

The mailbox was full of envelopes. But the front stoop was empty. No package.

And the scout's visit was in less than twenty-four hours.

E
lise sobbed over the long row of sinks, her head bent low, her hair almost brushing the faucets. The sound echoed in the big, empty room. Her fingers curled around the edge of the cold porcelain as the tears dripped into the drain.

She couldn't do it. The day was finally here, and she couldn't do it. She didn't have her magic pills, and she was exhausted. In two hours, Ryan Jacobs would be standing on the practice field—and Elise just couldn't play. The pills hadn't come. She hadn't slept well in three nights. Her temples pounded from a sick headache. The sides of her stomach ached, twisted into knots.

The bathroom door banged open. A couple of freshman girls came in, laughing together at some picture on a cell phone. They gave Elise a curious glance, and she straightened up fast, swiping at her cheeks.

It really was hopeless, she told herself. There wasn't time to get home to check the mail before they were due on the field. Coach had told them the scrimmage would start at quarter to four sharp.

She stared at her face in the water-spotted mirror. Her skin was white and doughy. Her dark-rimmed eyes looked like raisins poked into unbaked bread. On either side of her face, hair hung down in oily strings. She hadn't had the energy to wash it that morning. She looked like a messy ghost.

The freshman girls came out of the stalls, washed their hands, and left. Elise kept her face turned to the corner. Then the door banged open again and Sophie, her face relieved, rushed toward Elise.

“There you are!” her friend exclaimed. She held her phone in one hand. “I was looking everywhere for you. I called Maddie and Dayton to see if they knew where you were. And your phone's off.” She stopped talking and looked at Elise more closely. “Oh my God, what's the matter? Are you sick?”

Elise bit her lip and shook her head. She didn't trust herself to say anything, and she really didn't want to have a complete meltdown in the bathroom.

But Sophie moved closer, laying her phone down on one of the sinks and putting her hand softly on Elise's back. “I've never seen you look like this. Seriously, I'm not stupid. I know something's been going on with you recently. You've lost a ton of weight. Is it your mom? What? Tell me, please.”

Elise looked up into her friend's blue eyes, lit up with concern, and felt something give way in her chest. Clutching both of Sophie's hands, she let the whole story pour out in a torrent—her desperation to impress Jacobs, the discovery of the brown pills, her short stab at brilliance, the calorie control and, now, facing the Visit without the pills at all.

Sophie listened silently, stroking her friend's back, until Elise's outpouring slowed to a trickle. Elise swiped at her nose and retrieved a long piece of toilet paper from one of the stalls. “Well?” She blew her nose loudly on the toilet paper. She felt wrung out, limp, the way she used to feel after a long fight with her parents when she was little. “Do you hate me now?”

“No, of course not.” Sophie's face was knotted with concern. “But I don't know, Elise. Performance pills? Are they like steroids or something?”

“No!” Elise almost shouted. With an effort, she controlled her voice. “Of course not. They're just …” she searched for an appropriate word. “An
assist.
Nothing dangerous. God!”

She turned away from Sophie, crossing her arms on her chest. No one understood what she was going through. Not even her best friend.

“Here, come on. This place is depressing.” Sophie wrapped her arm around Elise's shoulders and led her from the bathroom. Outside, the hallway was mostly empty. The last bell had rung ten minutes ago. Only a few stragglers remained, stuffing books from their lockers into their bags.

Sophie and Elise sat down on a sunlit bench by the front doors.

“Elise.” Sophie bent down to try to look into her friend's face. “You should not be taking pills, girl. Seriously. This is like fifth-grade health class stuff. Basic.”

Elise's head jerked up. “Who are you to lecture me?” she snarled. “I get enough of that at home. Now—hey—lend me your car keys. Just for a few minutes. I have to get home just to check if the pills are there. Otherwise, there's no use in me even going on the field.” She held her hand out for the keys expectantly.

But Sophie's face was set in firm lines. “No,” Sophie said in a voice Elise had never heard before.

“What?” Elise stared at her friend.

Sophie folded her lips. “No,” she repeated. “This is seriously wrong, Elise. I'm not lending you the car. It's time for this to stop. You're a great player. You don't need that.”

“Don't you understand?” Elise yelled, not caring now who heard. “This is the most important day of my life, and you won't help me? Give me the keys!”

She grabbed for Sophie's backpack, on the floor near their feet. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she knew she was acting over the top. But just like the day she'd yelled at Darren, she couldn't help herself.

Sophie grabbed at the backpack too, but Elise was quicker. She unzipped the front pocket and dug her hand into the bottom where Sophie always kept the keys.

“Elise! Stop! Do not take those!” Sophie's face was red and furious.

Elise just stared at her friend for one more instant, her chest heaving, then whirled and ran through the doors, clutching the stolen keys in her hand.

“This is not you!” Sophie shouted after her.

E
lise barely heard Sophie yelling at her as she ran through the parking lot. Her heart was pounding as she pulled up to her house with a screech a few minutes later, but she let out a triumphant whoop when she saw the familiar brown package sitting on the doormat.

Elise ripped open the brown paper, not caring if her mother saw it later, and tore into the package. She thought she'd never seen anything as beautiful as those brown pills lined up neatly in their packs. Elise punched out three pills and dry swallowed them. She started to drop the package, then hesitated and took a fourth as well. She ran back to the car at a fast trot. Her legs still felt wobbly, but that would wear off, she reassured herself. Only ten minutes until she had to be on the field.

The car screeched into the parking lot, and then Elise sprinted onto the field with three minutes to spare. Everyone was already there, neatly dressed in clean practice uniforms, hair pulled back in tight ponytails. Sophie stood near the back of the group. Elise silently pressed the keys into her hand. Sophie looked away pointedly and said nothing.

A short, slight man with thick glasses stood next to Coach Berg. He was wearing a UNC zip-up sweater and holding a clipboard. Somehow, Elise had expected someone bigger. This guy looked like a math teacher.

“Players, I'd like you to meet Ryan Jacobs, the assistant coach and recruiting coordinator for the UNC women's team,” Coach Berg announced. “It's a real honor to have him here to watch our scrimmage.”

Everyone clapped and Dayton let out a cheer, but Ryan Jacobs just smiled faintly and nodded. He didn't look nearly as excited as the Copperheads did.

Nita led the team through a few warm-ups, and Coach Berg divided them into two groups for the scrimmage. Everyone looked nervous. Madison was chewing her nails. Elise tried to quell the quivers in her stomach. She still felt weak and fuzzy-headed. The pills hadn't kicked in—at least not yet.
Just a few more minutes
, she reassured herself.
That's all I need.
On the sidelines, Jacobs flipped through pages on his clipboard.

Coach Berg blew his whistle and play began. Elise's side started with the ball, and the scrimmage began with a short pass from Lacy to Nita. Nita ran in for a shot on goal, but Alyssa blocked it and launched it over to Addie. Elise saw Ryan Jacobs raise one eyebrow and make a note on his papers.

Addie passed to Dayton, who fumbled it briefly before regaining control. She dribbled toward the opposing goal, and Elise tensed up.
This is it.

Ryan Jacobs was following every move of the game. This was Elise's moment. Dayton loomed in front of her, looking even larger than usual. Elise ran forward to nab the ball, but her legs felt as though they were running through a foot of wet sand.
Come on!
she ordered herself.
Move it!
The world seemed to slow down as she focused on the black-and-white ball held in play between Dayton's feet.
Faster! She's almost past you!
Her heart hammered in her chest in its new, strange way.

Elise grimaced with the strain, her lips pulled over her clenched teeth. She heard her pulse booming in her ears. She slowed down, getting ready to steal the ball.
Almost
… and then, to her horror, she felt her feet slip out from under her. Her legs gave way, and she pinwheeled her arms for an eternal second, struggling to regain her balance. She lurched forward, skidding on the turf, and hit the ground.

“Whoa, there!” she heard Coach Berg shout. “Timeout, everyone.” His big hand touched her back. “Okay, Elise?”

The muddy ground was cold and damp under her palms. She felt the mud soaking through her socks. Even her hair, half out of its ponytail, smelled like mud. Elise raised her eyes a few inches and stared at a pair of very new-looking, white sneakers. She'd fallen right at the feet of Ryan Jacobs.