I sat on the ground and observed all the girls. We were all here for the same reason. Field hockey. An hour before, I had been leaning against my sofa having a blackout panic attack. I don't deal well with strangers, especially strangers that could ruin my already unstable reputation and leave me to the wolves on the field. I didn’t realize at the time that the untrustworthy Seniors wouldn’t murder me on a sacrificial altar with a ceremonial dagger, cult-style robes, and eerie candles. Rumors had been passed down through the generations of mischievous upperclassmen who immensely enjoyed shoving unsuspecting Freshmen into lockers and trashcans. Being incredibly gullible, I fell for the dramatic act and was promptly terrified as I saw girls with heavy makeup swinging at a ball with a solid, wooden stick, praying they wouldn’t soon be swinging at my head.

My soon-to-be teammates loitered in small groups around the perimeter of the field. The occasional shrill giggle or joy-filled shout could be heard. The new freshmen and I watched them in wonder. They seemed so relaxed with each other, until our coach stomped onto the field and all the girls stopped talking mid-sentence and straightened up, like soldiers listening to their commander. She didn’t look intimidating in stature or visage, she was tall and willowy with dirty blond lanks of straight hair accompanied by soft brown eyes. She exuded confidence and authority. I soon learned that she was quick to act. Any misdemeanors on the field resulted in laps, much to my teammates dismay.

The first day of tryouts was the most unfavorable, by far. While we were doing by suicides (which are aptly named), I was elated by the thought of leaving my new found hell and I wasn’t alone in that thought. My team griped and moaned about the deplorable act of running even though in a very, very small part of our mind, we knew it was for our benefit. As we began to adjust to each other and all the different personalities, boundaries began to form and cliques substantiated themselves. I, being the most peculiar on the team, wandered from group to group and unquestionably upset the social hierarchy. Freshmen were the untouchables and did the dirty jobs for the older, “more sophisticated” upperclassmen. We switched spandex when others forget them, collected the balls at the end of practice, and picked up the empty water bottles people carelessly left on the ground for people like me to pick up. The Seniors thrived under the use of Freshmen “slaves”. The jubilant atmosphere I enjoyed at the beginning of the week quickly faded and left in it’s place a group of over-dramatic teenagers. The Freshmen stuck together and the rest of the team meandered back to their original cliques and discussed the vitally topics of the unattainable boy and acne remedies. Every once in awhile one of them would slyly wander over to us and scrutinize us for our ability to be initiated into their cult-like society. Once you join, you never come back to the lowly world of Freshmen. Perhaps I was being a tad paranoid.

Fortunately, there were many exceptions to the rule. Our goalies loved us and I had a few friends who were Sophomores and Juniors. The Seniors remained steadfast in their belief of newb Freshmen. Save for two or three of them, whom I immediately idolized. They were willing to assist me when I had a question and I thought that maybe, just maybe, they actually liked me.

We all became acquaintances with the sympathetic Seniors. We bonded and talked to one another but the other Seniors still didn’t enjoy our presence. The Freshmen, meanwhile became alot closer. I was great friends with almost all of them. While the Freshmen were growing closer, the Seniors were growing more distant with each other. Our distance was showing on the field. We didn’t win a game the entire season.

I signed up for field hockey because I wanted to be around girls that were low-maintenance and humorous. At first, I thought I’d found it. It was a total judgement-free zone. We’d change in the locker room and no one would care what you looked like. You could wear sweatpants everyday of the week and the girls would tell you that you look cute. We cheered each other on wherever we went. We were pep-talk pro’s.

It’s still like that and I love my team, we are a family even on our bad days. As the season moves forward I hope that it gets better, and maybe it will.

I recall Skyler (a JV teammate) and I running our timed mile. We jogged together at the same pace. Unfortunately we were forced to run by the greedy-eyed football players and one of them had the guts to whistle at us as we ran by, trying not to look stupid. I thought she was going to assassinate a full grown man who was twice our size. She screamed ugly profanities at them and finished with “I’m not your dog!”. I was laughing hysterically as she huffed and puffed and gave them evil eyes, muttering under her breath. She had no fear. Skyler was a small girl, the same height as me, just five feet and two inches. She had chocolate brown pin straight hair that reached just past her shoulders and brown eyes that looked ready to kill. Many girls on the team were like her, sarcastic and witty, but still amazing people. Looking back, I wish I wasn’t so afraid. All of the Freshmen were, but it almost stopped me from doing something I love and meeting people who are like family to me.

As class let out early for game day at Winnacunnet, I was ecstatic. It was a new day, a new game, and another chance for us to celebrate a possible victory. Winning was every athlete's dream and I was no different. I hurriedly slid on my uniform and puttered around the locker room urging people to hurry up. Eventually everyone was clothed and presentable. My cleats echoed on the tile like high heels as I sauntered down the halls. We were all laughing and joking as we stepped onto the bus, most of us were giddy with a pre-game adrenaline high. An hour later we pulled up in front of a dreary high school that practically screamed with teens’ misery and boredom. We warmed up on their field and the game was soon underway. Our defence was strong. Balls were being stopped left and right, then brought up the field. We never scored a goal but the yearning was palpable in the air. We reset. I could feel the salty sweat wandering aimlessly down my face. I was breathing hard and my chest ached. I looked down to my feet. The grass was a soft green color and there were still small droplets of water resting on the blades of grass from a previous rain shower. Miniscule rays of light reflected of the droplets. The whistle was blown and I was in action. Nidhi passed behind her, then it was passed to me. I dribbled the ball up the field, dodging opposing players. “I’m open!” I heard one of the girls yelling hoarsely. I passed it back to Nidhi and then cut up and around her so I was available for a chance to shoot at the goal. She raised her stick, just about to swing to me and the buzzer went off in a cold, analytical sound. We were so close I thought to myself. When the game was over we all looked at one another and smiled. We didn’t win, but we were unstoppable.