Good Morning, Nosejob

by Ashley Ahwah

“Ashley wake up. You have fifteen minutes to get ready,” my mom whispers frantically, shaking my body until I let out a moan of grief.

“I’m up, I’m up. Just please stop shaking me, I feel like there’s an earthquake, and you’re making my head hurt,” I plea.

“Ok, just hurry up. Ariel’s already awake and in the bathroom. I let you sleep late since you were studying last night,” replies my mom sympathetically.

I roll over onto my AP Biology notes and review sheet, and check the time. 6:30 am. Jesus christ why in the world do I play soccer? My eyes slowly open, and I am exposed to the darkness creeping through the windows of the unfamiliar hotel room. My sister Ariel walks out of the bathroom, showered, dressed and ready to go, as I crawl out of the pull out couch cot crammed in the corner of the room. Fourteen minutes go by, and just as I zip up my soccer bag, ready to go, a knock on the door signals that it’s time to depart.

“We’re coming Arikai, we’re coming. Ariel lets go. Bye mom. Bye dad. We’ll see you at the game.”

“Bye honey. Good luck,” replies my mom as the door clacks shut behind me.

We exit the elevator and are greeted by the silence of the lobby and the groups of soccer players slumping through the dining room as they line up to get their caffeine for the day. I set my bag down at the nearest table and slowly wander in line for the Starbucks brewed coffee.

“Mavericks we’re heading out in ten minutes. Please make sure you eat something other than coffee and donuts,” orders my coach, Teale.

“Oh my god it’s too early in the morning to hear Teale’s voice”, claims Ariel just as she shoves a rainbow sprinkled donut into her mouth.

As I walk through the electric sliding doors I am greeted with a gush of below freezing wind and the smell of cow manure in the middle of Turlock, CA. I instantly zip up my team issued engraved sweat jacket and pull up my monogramed sweatpants higher on my waist before I trek across the parking lot to the car. A half hour later the navy blue Dodge Durango pulls into the parking lot of the middle school that we are scheduled to play at. When I get out the car I can see my breath as I exhale, and I wrap my blankets tighter around my body as I make my way to the field. The grass is flooded from the night before, and the frost blanketed across the blades of grass brushes off onto my cleats making them white. By the time I reach the designated area for our team, my feet are sopping wet from the puddles, and feel like they’re going to fall off.

“All right ladies it’s game time, so get warm and get serious. We need this win in order to move onto the Consolation game. Naomi I want a goal within the first five minutes. Daisy, Ashley, I shouldn’t even have to tell you there better not be any goals given up today.”

Teale is known for being a sensitive person, but when it comes to winning, his intense alter-ego emerges and frightens me, and the fifteen other girls on the team. Time to warm up, and get my head in the game.

“Two lines guys, quickly,” yells Naomi who is acting as the captain for the tournament.

Five minutes of running, and I am already panting, hoping it would rain so the game would be cancelled. Over comes the three men who will decide how the game is played and who are treated with respect. The referees are old, and look like they won’t be able to keep up with the speed of play, which most likely means the game won’t be as fair as we would want it to be.

“Good morning, ACC Mavericks. Although it’s not the best day for soccer, we gotta play anyways, so lets have as good of a clean game as possible, all right? Let’s get started. When I call your name step forward stating your number and showing your cleats and shin guards. First up, Ashley....Away?”

“It’s AHWAH (ah-wah), and I’m number three.” I dart an evil look towards the referee as I knock my shin guards together and flash him the bottom of my cleats.

After they call everyone forward, we return to the sideline and strip ourselves of our sweats. Game time Ashley, don’t mess up.

“Mavericks on three! Mavericks on three! One, Two, Three! MAVERICKS!” we chant as a team as we take the field.

The whistle shrieks, signaling the start of the game.

“Naomi, drop!” I scream to Naomi as the opponents race towards her.

“Push up the field ladies, push up!” I yell.

“Ashley, switch, SWITCH!” screams Vanessa on the other side of the field.

“Arikai, you got Ariel up top. Put the ball through,” states Katie as the ball travels through the air and sits down next to Ariel with the help of her foot. Ariel is ambushed by the Turlock Flash’s defender, and immediately looses possession.

“Drop it back Midfielders, help out on defense.”

How could this have happened?

The other team zig-zags through our defenders one by one, then it’s my turn to challenge.

OK Ashley, set your feet, and wait for the right moment. One wrong move and you just gave up a goal.

The ball inches away from my opponent just far enough for me to shove my way in between it and the player, and now we are on the offense once more. The ball hugs the sideline as I serve it up the field towards Ariel. She traps it, forcing it to the ground, but a svelte body slides in underneath her, causing her to fall back into the mud.

The referee is standing directly next to me as his whistle screams, instantly impairing my hearing, and giving me the worst two-second headache I have ever had. Wearing a skin-tight yellow and black striped shirt that outlines his fat rolls, the referee signals the blonde haired, blue eyed opponent over to him as he pulled out a yellow card, flashing the highlighter-colored plastic square into the air that shows the player just received a warning for her foul play. It was a free kick for the Mavericks, and it was our one and only chance to get a goal before the end of the half.

“Daisy, take the kick,” shouts Teale from the sideline.

“Midori, drop back for me?” I ask as I jog up towards the top of the penalty box.

“You got this, Ash. Let’s get a goal now,” replies Midori encouragingly.

I took my place in the line of duty as Daisy raises her hand. I raise mine, the whistle blows one last time, and the ball is blasted towards the goal.

I curl my run in towards the front post of the goal, and I can hear my father and Teale screaming, “Yes, Yes, YES!” as I jump into the air. The ball hits my forehead as I direct it towards the net, and slam my entire body into the goalie’s.

Boom. Head butt. Fist to face. Flip. Thud. Blackout. My body smashes into the ground, and forms a funny spiral shape as I lay there half-awake, clenching my head. All I hear is the goal keeper screaming at me as I peel open my watering eyes.

“You Bitch! Who the fuck do you think you are!” she screams at me as she holds her injured wrist.

“You better back the fuck away from my sister before I beat your ass!” Ariel yells back as she runs over to my side, taking my hand and rubbing my back.

The overweight referee shrieks his whistle, pausing the game, and slowly runs to my side. As I try to sit up my head is spinning and I can see three of everything. My head feels like a cinderblock sinking into an ocean as it falls back into the wet bed of grass, and my eye lids droop as my coach and father run onto the field.

“Ashley. Ashley. Can you hear me? Can you say something?” my coach frantically asks.

My lips open, but I can’t find my voice. Oh shit. What happened to my voice? Why can’t I talk? Tears begin falling down my cheeks once more as my sister removes blades of grass off my forehead and eyes. I wipe the spit off the side of my face and try again.

“D-d-did I get a goal?” I ask anxiously. I look at my sister with worried eyes, and she shook her head NO. Dammit. I just rammed into someone for nothing.

My dad kneels down next to me, and starts asking me questions like I was another one of his patients in the Emergency Room.

“Can you tell me what hurts? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Dad, I’m your daughter not some random patient who was just rushed into your ER. Talk to me like you actually care, please.”

“OK honey, I’m sorry. Just tell me what hurts.”

I try and sit up once more. The goalie is still yelling at me for injuring her hand, and I jerk my neck around to see where she is. A sharp pain in my neck instantly paralyzes my movement and I let out a shriek.

“Oww, oww, oww. Daddy it hurts, it hurts,” I cry with terror.

“Ok let me check it out,” he serenely replies.

As his oversized fingers dig into the side of my neck and into my shoulder, I clench the grass and my teammates huddle over us reassuring me everything will be all right.

“There’s nothing broken, you just badly bruised your neck and shoulder,” my dad assures me.

“Ok. My nose is killing me also. Is it swollen?” I ask, turning to my teammates for their opinions. They all shake their heads in unison, telling me there’s nothing to worry about. But the looks on their faces say differently. I turn to my best friend Arikai, the one person who has always told me the truth, the one who is known as the worst liar known to man.

“Arikai, what the hell is wrong with my nose?” I say angrily.

“N-n-n-nothing?!? It’s fine. Not swollen at all. It’s absolutely beautiful,” she replies with a slant smile spread across her mouth and the words, I’M LYING, flashing on her forehead.

“Arikai you are the worst liar ever,” I state, tears beginning to heavily come down my face once more as Ariel and Arikai lift me up and carry me off the field. When I reach the sideline, I sit in one of the chairs with the cup holders on the side, and let my father finish his examination. His fingers dig into my skin once more, but this time his thumbs situate themselves on either side of the bridge of my nose, and press deeply into my face.

“DADDY STOP!” I yell clenching my fists together, trying hard not to slap his hands away. Never in my fifteen years of living have I ever screamed in such a childish way. The parents look over in fear, making sure I’m not on my deathbed.

“It’s really swollen Ash. I think it may be broken also. Let’s get you some ice, and I’ll wait until the swelling goes down before I do anything more. Also, take an eight-hundred Motrin to help with the pain,” says my father with no emotion.

“Thanks Dr. Ahwah. You’re such great help,” I reply sarcastically, as my focus returns to the game.

For the remainder of the time, I sit in silence with ice pressed against my face and neck, occasionally tearing up, and scared to move my neck in fear of causing further damage. What’s going to happen? Is this going to be me for the rest of the season: the injured girl on the sideline watching everyone else play the game that I love? Thoughts pour in and out my head as I sit in the typical soccer mom chair, my body in a complete upright position, and eyes fixed on the ball that traveled up and down the field.

50 minutes later, the final whistle is blown, the game is over, and we leave the field tied.

“Good game guys, you did the best you could. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out more,” I say.

“Ashley don’t beat yourself up, you had an awesome run. Hella risky, but really good,” replies Naomi.

We pack up, and I hide my emotions so I can walk to the car with the little dignity that I have left.

“Look, that’s the girl who got punched in the face in the game that just ended,” I hear faintly behind me.

The girl who got punched in the face. Is that who I’m going to be known as for the rest of time for these people? The girl who got punched in the god damn face?

I get in the car slowly, but quick enough so the other players can’t see my hideous appearance.

“Mom, can you hurry up please, I wanna get out of here,” I mumble. I rummage through her oversized purse and locate the mirror, anxious to see how much make-up will be required to disguise my appearance on Monday. I open the sparkly purple contraption and look at my face for the first time.

“Oh my god! I look like the freaking Hunchback of Notre Dame! Look at my nose!!” I scream to my sister as she slides into the seat next to me.

“It’s not that bad. I’m sure the swelling will go down in a few days” she replied unsympathetically.

“A few days! Are you nuts! I have to go to school tomorrow!! Dad I need more ice like now!” I whined, chucking my melted ice pack into the bushes.

My eyes slowly return to my reflection as I am exposed to my frankenstein appearance once more. My nose is twice the size, already beginning to bruise, and the sea of blood that was pouring out of it earlier is now crusted on the tip. My forehead has a golfball molded into the side of it where my head slammed into the goalkeeper’s, and the tip of my lip is covered in scrapes and scratches, like a rat was frantically trying dig its way through dirt.

“Hey, great attempt at that header in the first half,” I hear faintly behind me. I rotate my body 180˚ to find a stranger at the door of the minivan, holding out his hand to shake.

“Thank you. If only it was a goal,” I reply in respect, gripping his firm hand, and wiping away the encrusted blood, trying to make my face look somewhat presentable.

“Goal or no goal, definitely the best play I have seen in a very long time,” he cheerfully replied. As the unfamiliar face walks away, I notice he is the father of the goalkeeper who rammed her fists into my face. I dart a “Bitch you’re going down” look her way, but quickly rescind it as the dad looks back one last time. With that vote of confidence, I smile, set my blue iPod nano to play “Misery Business” by Paramore, and let my tired eyes droop shut. As the car pulls out of the parking lot, and drives down the open highway, I begin planning my comeback and replay the encouraging words over and over in my head.