Stealing for Keeps (Frost Lake High Book 1)

The girls’ soccer team is still on the field when I arrive to practice the next day. A few of the other guys are stretching. I look around for Vaughn, but he isn’t here yet. I need to make sure there’s no hard feelings about what happened last night.

I explained the situation at Doyle’s before he left, but all he would say is “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

And I hadn’t. But even knowing what I do now, I can’t say I don’t want to do it again.

I drop my bag and take my ball over to where the team has huddled, waiting to take the field.

Barrett spots me first, his grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “New Guy, you showed. Good for you. Kiss any more of Collins’s ex-girlfriends last night?”

The entire group snickers. I decide not to let them get to me. I know guys like Barrett back in Arizona. He wants to get a reaction out of me, but I’m not letting any of them see me sweat. I can be a valuable player on this team. No way petty drama is going to get in my way.

“Not that I know of,” I say, matching his grin.

Their laughter grows louder. Moving my gaze to the girls on the field and hopefully dissuading my team from razzing me further, I raise the ball over my head and stretch.

When the girls finish practice and we take over, I still haven’t spotted Vaughn. He doesn’t show up until the very last second, falling into the back of the group as Coach blows the whistle and gives us warm-up instructions.

We jog circles around the field in a pack. Vaughn is at the back, and I’m in the front. I assumed he’d naturally make his way forward since he’s one of the fastest on the team, but after two laps, he hasn’t. I fall back until I’m beside him.

Sweat trickles down my forehead, but my legs are beginning to feel warm and loose.

“Hey,” I say, nodding my head.

His gaze stays locked forward. Coach blows the whistle, and we finish the lap and grab water. I stick next to Vaughn. Rowan side-eyes me from a few feet away.

“Last night was wild, right? I should have expected that the guys were going to pull something. Are we good?”

“It’s fine, Keller.” Vaughn doesn’t look me in the eye, but I take him at his word.

He seems like a straightforward guy, and I’m looking forward to playing soccer with him. Everything I know about him points to us having a similar love and determination for the sport.

“How long were you two together?” I’m not exactly prying, but I do find myself hoping he’ll share a little more about his ex. When he doesn’t, I add, “I wouldn’t have kissed her if I’d known, but she seems cool.”

Rowan clears his throat nearby. I glance quickly at him, and he’s shaking his head in warning, but I’m not sure why until I notice the stony expression on Vaughn’s face.

I try to backpedal, but I’m not even sure why he’s so mad. All I said was that she seemed cool. “I just mean I can see why you were into her. She’s superhot and—”

The daggers shooting out of his eyes only intensify, but luckily Coach blows the whistle again before I can put my foot in my mouth any further. I mean, does he really think no one else has noticed Claire is a knockout?

“Break into groups of three for defending drills,” Coach bellows from the middle of the field.

I glance around to see trios forming all around me.

“You want to be in our group, Keller?” Vaughn asks. He has Doyle with him, the senior defender whose family owns the cabin Rowan took me to last night.

“Yeah,” I say quickly, not able to hide the surprise in my voice. I noticed yesterday that Vaughn always positions himself to go up against the best guys in practice. Maybe I misread him, and he’s not pissed about Claire. I’m happy to put it all behind us.

Coach has laid out cones down the field for each of the groups. One person is on offense, another on defense, and one person is out. The idea is simple: offense passes the ball to defense, defense passes it back and then rushes the offense, who tries to get past the defender.

I’m first up on defense. Vaughn passes me the ball, and I pass it back, then run toward him. He’s a great ball handler, maybe the best I’ve ever played with, but I dig deep. He goes right, and I match him. Vaughn is patient though. He moves from side to side, waiting for an opportunity. It comes when he fakes right, then left, and gets me on my heels. He’s past me on the right before I regain my footing.

“Nice job,” I say and offer him my hand.

He turns without acknowledging me and kicks the ball to Doyle, who is now on offense.

It’s a quick drill but high intensity. Offense becomes defense, then gets a short break. But with how fast everything moves, it isn’t much of a breather.

Doyle and I are tired after only a few rotations. He’s wheezing, audibly dragging in air to his lungs at every pause in action. Vaughn doesn’t seem to be struggling at all. If he weren’t sweating, I’d call him a machine.

On my fourth try, I wipe my forehead and concentrate. Vaughn is talented, but he prefers faking left and going right. He’s done it two out of the three times we’ve done this drill. We pass the ball back and forth, and then I attack, leaving enough room between us that I can react and keep him from blowing by me.

Just like he’s done before, he takes his time. He moves quickly, but in control. Right, left, baiting me and trying to get me out of position. But I stick with him.

“Nice, Keller!” Coach Collins calls.

It’s the first time he’s given me any kind of positive feedback, and it distracts me just enough that my reaction time slows, and Vaughn wastes no time in punishing me.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. I jog to take my place behind Doyle while I wait for my next turn on offense, but Coach moves toward our group.

“Let’s switch things up,” he says. “Keller, you’re fast but sloppy, and you’re too easily distracted. Focus.”

I take in the critique, silently berating myself for stupid mistakes and ready to do better.

“Let’s reverse the order now and get fresh groups,” Coach instructs.

This means that I’m now on offense against Vaughn. It’s my chance for redemption. I take a deep breath as I pass the ball to him. Almost lazily, he passes it back, but then he’s sprinting toward me. I know he’s expecting me to take my time, but instead I go for a straight line past him. I almost make it, but he steals the ball from me at the last second, and I let out another curse.

“Again,” Coach says to me. “Did you have any defenders in Arizona?”

Vaughn kicks the ball back to me. I take my time, but he crowds me and gets a swipe at the ball before I can make my move.

My frustration grows. Coach continues watching with his arms crossed over his chest. He tips his head as if to say, “Keep going until you get it.”

Vaughn looks almost gleeful at my irritation. It fuels me, but I’m dog-tired. I do my best to make him play at my pace just like he did and like I’d done with Doyle, but Vaughn is bigger and faster than the guys I played against in Arizona. He doesn’t fall for shoulder fakes or any other half-assed attempt to trick him. He makes me work. I’m quick to the left and then back right. I keep the ball away from him, kicking it behind me and switching frequently.

“You’ve got to move toward the goal to score, Keller.” Coach sounds exasperated.

Fuck. I know he’s right. It doesn’t do me a lot of good to keep the ball away from him if I never get a clear shot. I’m not going to get an opening, so I decide to make one. I fake hard to the left and then move right. I get the jump on him, but he lowers his shoulder, and the impact of his body colliding into mine sends me to the ground.

I hear some of the guys laughing. Coach blows the whistle. “Take five for water.”

I stay sitting on the ground with my elbows resting on my knees. My jaw hurts from where his big shoulder rammed into me. It could have been an accident, but I doubt it. He knew I had him beat, and he took a cheap shot.

Vaughn kicks the ball up and catches it. “Better luck next time.”

Practice goes downhill after that. Vaughn ices me out, and by the time we’re finished for the day, the rest of the team has noticed and are giving me a wide berth. Only Rowan dares to talk to me.

“Well, that was painful to watch,” he says, falling into step next to me. “You really pissed him off.”

“I don’t understand. This is all over some girl?”

“Not some girl. Claire Crawford.”

“What is the big deal? She said he broke up with her.”

“It’s…complicated,” Rowan says as we walk over to the sideline.

“How so?”

“Listen, forget about Claire. It’s not worth going to war with Vaughn.”

“All because I kissed her?” It seems like an extreme reaction, even if she is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. There’s just something about her. Those eyes. And that hair. And those legs.

Rowan’s voice pulls me from my Claire-obsessed thoughts. “And you all but implied you were into her.”

Did I? That wasn’t my intention, but I am intrigued by her. She was so…something.

“You called her hot,” he says, as if clarifying.

“Well, I’m not blind.” I squirt water into my mouth and then over my head.

Rowan chuckles softly and squeezes me on the shoulder. “When it comes to Claire, my advice is to pretend that you are.”

* * *

When I get home from practice, Mom is in her office on a call, and Wyatt is in front of the TV in the living room.

Most of the house is unpacked, but a few boxes of miscellaneous shit that we haven’t found a home for yet sit in front of the couch acting as a coffee table.

I sit next to Wyatt and prop my feet up on one of the boxes.

“Did you get the master sword yet?” I ask him. He’s playing Legend of Zelda.

“Not yet,” he says, then his nose wrinkles. “You smell. Mom is going to yell at you for stinking up the new furniture.”

He is a wise kid for only eight years old.

“I’ll just blame you,” I tell him, swiping the controller out of his hands.

He lunges for it, but I hold it up high where he can’t reach. Undeterred, he climbs up on me to get to it.

“You’ve been playing all day. It’s my turn.”

“You have to do your chores first,” he says in a matter-of-fact voice that I’m sure Mom used on him earlier.

“She’s on a call.”

“Yeah, but it’s not fair.” He’s in a phase where everything has to be fair. Last night at dinner, he made sure we all had the exact same number of fries.

Torrance comes from the kitchen and stops in the entryway. She leans against the wall, and her features tighten. “Didn’t you know, Wyatt? The world revolves around Austin. Get used to things not being fair.”

Her words shouldn’t get to me—she’s been mad ever since we moved to Michigan—but it’s been a long day already. I hand the controller back to my little brother and stand.

I don’t bother engaging her as I walk into the kitchen. I open the fridge and pull out a container of leftover macaroni and cheese. Grabbing a fork, I dig in without heating it up.

She follows me, disgust etched into her features as she watches me shovel in the cold noodles.

“Want some?” I offer as I hold up a forkful in her face.

“Gross. No.” She pushes my hand away from her.

The fact that she’s in the same room as me is progress though. Last week, every time she saw me, she burst into tears.

“Can you drop me off at the mall?”

Ah, well, now it makes sense why she’s tolerating my presence.

“What for?” I ask.

“I want to go clothes shopping for school next week,” she says like the need to justify the free ride annoys her.

“I thought Mom was going to take you,” I say as I shove another bite into my mouth.

“She was supposed to this morning, but she’s been in back-to-back meetings.”

I nod, feeling something like guilt. Mom used to only work part-time, but she’s had to take on more hours since we moved. The house in Arizona still hasn’t sold, and the van needed a new fuel pump last week.

I know that our moving here has put a strain on everyone. I appreciate what they’ve given up for me, but I don’t want to be held responsible for every bad thing that happens from now until eternity. Frost Lake is my opportunity, but it isn’t like it’s a bad place. The summers here are way better, I know that much already. I do not miss practicing outside in one-hundred-and-fifteen-degree heat. And maybe we’ll finally have a white Christmas.

“Yeah. I’ll take you,” I say as I drop the empty bowl in the sink.

“Thank you.” Her tone is begrudging gratitude.

We used to be close. She’s only a grade younger than me, and back in Arizona, we even had a lot of the same friends. “Actually, can I come with you? I need to get a few things too.”

“We can’t leave Wyatt here by himself.”

“He can come too. We’ll hit up the arcade while you shop.”

A hint of a smile appears, but she masks it quickly. “Sure. Whatever.”