Football and Glitter

Short. You’re short. You’re not tall enough. You can’t reach that. You can’t ride this. She’s heard it all her life. On top of that, Lila is a tomboy. The idea of playing with dolls and sparkly dresses and her mom’s makeup repulsed her. Not that there was anything wrong with those things; they were just not her things. Walking through that humid, dusty field during recess today, Lila makes a resolution. She was going to play football with everyone else. “Everyone else” being the sixth grade guys. She was going to show them that she didn’t have to play house or hear who had a crush on who with the girls, not if she didn’t want to.

She hears their gabbing before she sees them. Bracing herself for the worst, Lila rounds the corner of the broken-down shed that was used to store recess toys like soccer balls, jump ropes, and hoola hoops. Dressed in pristine white, neon pink, and glitter galore are the Rachels. The Rachels have been friends since third grade, when Rachel Smatter moved from California, completing their snotty little threesome. As Lila passes them, trying not to look at their glistening golden hair, she remembers the day when she tried to become part of their group last year.

She’d just gotten a new t-shirt at the store her mom usually refused to go into, calling it “overpriced and too girly for her little Lila.” Lila would always protest that her mom was wrong, and fail miserably. But just this once, she’d relented to her pleading ten-year-old daughter, reminding her “Just this once.”

So she was proud when she walked up to them that Monday. She’d even snuck some of her mom’s eyeshadow, and even though it seemed too gawky for Lila, she’d done it anyway, because that is what the Rachels would do.

“What are you wearing?” asked Rachel Talor. Lila sensed a hint of jealousy, and smiled up at Rachel.

“Do you like it? My mom let me buy it this weekend.”

The Rachels laughed in a chorus of snickers, and it made Lila sick. Rachel Smatter stepped forward, hands on hips, saying, “Your mom let you buy that? Now I can see where your terrible fashion sense comes from.”

Lila tried to come up with an come back, a retort that would shut all the Rachels up. Recess, however, ended with Lila in the nurse’s office, faking a stomachache and asking to go home. Her mom persistently asked her what was wrong, and Lila refused to give a truthful answer, saying she thought Timmy had a stomach bug that weekend, and came to school, even though he shouldn’t have.

So here they were again, the Rachels versus Lila. They’d gotten fake brightly-colored hair extensions this summer, and she’d gotten tough skin. They didn’t seem to bother her much anymore. She thought she’d found her niche, with the guys.

“Look at Lila, going to play with her own kind,” she hears one of them say.

“Finally. Took her years to figure that out,” someone else responds.

Lila doesn’t want to turn around. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of an answer. But she has to. It’s just something about them, and something about the way she is. Defiant and stubborn, in every sense of the words.

“So what if I wanna play with the guys? They’re a whole lot better than you three are.”

“I can see how you’d think that, seeing how you’re a guy, too.” Classy, Lila thinks, Sticking with the same “guy” tactic they’ve used on me for years. How original.

“I don’t want to hear you talk about how “dreamy” you think Tom is,” she says, looking at Rachel Talor. “And I don’t want to listen to you go on and on about your new puppy,” she says, now glaring at Rachel Smatter. “And your latest shopping spree,” she says, voice rising, looking at Rachel MacEntire, “I couldn’t care less. It’s fine that you do. But that’s not me.”

With that, she turns on her heel and marches toward the gaggle of boys on the football field, not waiting to hear what they have to say next.

“Hey, Michael,” she calls, heart pounding, trying to get the attention of one the boys on the field. He glances at her through sweaty tufts of hair, finishing a play and running to the side lines, looking curiously at Lila.

“What’s up, Lila?” His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving up and down.

Lila looks up at him, all sense of her courage gone as she realizes how big he is - how small she is. “I...I was wondering,” she begins.

He looks at her expectantly, urgently, as another boy calls from the field, “Hurry up, Michael!” A group of sweaty, smelly boys form a circle around her and Michael, eagerly listening to what this girl had to say.

“I was wondering if maybe I could play with you guys. Today. Right now.” She stumbles over her words, looking at him hopefully as she finishes. She notices out of the corner of her eye that the Rachels have slowly joined the crowd, standing on the edges in what they think is out of Lila’s eyesight. It isn’t. Now she is even more desperate for an answer from him.

“Are you kidding?” Tom asks, crossing his arms. Lila sees Rachel Talor smirking in pure glee and her stomach feels like it was punched.

“She can’t play. She’ll be ruined,” calls a faceless voice in the crowd. Lila tries to search it out, but she can barely see over Michael.

“We’ll crush her!” someone yells. They mean it as a warning, but it is fueled with anger that leaves Lila feeling shaky, as though it were a promise.

“She couldn’t even carry the football. It’s bigger than her!” This invites a tumultuous cackle, pulling the blood to Lila’s face, creeping it up her neck and through the curves in her ears. Tears prick at the back of her eyes, and she bites her lip hard to keep them from escaping. No way. Not today.

Throughout this whole time, Michael has said nothing. “Come on, Mike, let’s just get back to playing,” Tom says.

Michael held up his hand. “Why can’t she play?”

Rachel Talor takes this opportunity to contribute her oh-so-observational tidbit. “Duh, she’s a girl, Michael. Not to mention she’s smaller than some of the fourth graders.

Michael doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even respond to Rachel, and that makes Lila smile with triumph and hope. “I think she should play. I’ve played with her since I was a little kid. She can roll with the rest of us.”

Lila can’t contain her excitement; she wants to hug him right there. She doesn’t, she can’t. But she wants to.

Everyone seems to reluctantly agree with Michael, or at least follow his orders. The crowd disbands, and everyone walks back out to the field. Lila nudges Michael with her elbow, only reaching his side. But she didn’t care. He’d stuck up for her, and now she was playing football, like she’d always wanted. “Thanks,” she said, grinning at him.