Page 12 of Rumor Has It

Becky let out a low chuckle. Katie would do it. She had always been one of those people that if you give her a name, she could find and pull everything on them in about thirty minutes. “I don’t need you to. I just needed to vent.”

“I wish you had told me, Becky. Do you know how much ice cream we could have eaten?” Katie was very much of the opinion that ice cream was put here by God himself to solve all of life’s problems.

“I know. I should have told you. I was just so heartbroken. And then so mad. And then so scared by the whole thing. You know how I feel about coming out. You know where we grew up. You’ve met my parents and been to our church. Not many people even know about me now, and sometimes it still feels like too many people.”

“I know.” Katie sighed. “I more meant in college, but it’s all good. The rivalry makes a lot more sense now. What are you going to do?”

“I guess when I calm down, I’ll head back to the hotel and just avoid her as much as possible. She stayed out late last night, and I woke up early this morning. Maybe we can just avoid each other and get through the rest of these two weeks with as little interaction as possible.” It was going to be more than just these two weeks though. They’d been paired for the whole year. Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip at the thought.

Before Becky had the opportunity to even order a Lyft, her phone rang. “Fuck,” Becky all but yelled when she saw her mother’s name scroll across the screen. Claire Rothschild was not someone you just casually sent to voicemail.

Becky groaned at the sky once more for good measure before she answered the call. “Hey Momma,” she said, trying to sound as sweet and as happy as possible.

“Hello, Becky,” her mother said, her own voice just as practiced as Becky’s.

This was the dance she did with her entire family. Speak every other week or so and only offer up the absolute best news and try to keep the rest to herself. The problem with that now was that her picture—flipping Wren off—was all over the internet. And there was still the little tidbit in her life about making the Women’s National Soccer Team that she hadn’t bothered to share in the family group chat.

“How are things?” Becky asked, hearing the way her accent thickened knowing her mom was on the other end of the phone.

“Well, we’ve learned just this morning that our daughter made the Women’s National Team. Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us?”

Becky’s jaw clenched. She knew why she hadn’t told them. This was something that she had done, earned with her actual blood, sweat, and tears, and the second her family found out, it would be reduced to bragging rights at their church. One more Rothschild accomplishment to help bolster their family towards heaven. Her hazel eyes rolled on reflex.

She hadn’t even answered by the time her mother continued. “You know, you’re all over the news right now, Becky. These aren’t flattering photos.”

An audible sigh escaped her before she could catch it.

“I’m sorry, Becky. Does the truth bother you?” Her mother asked, framing the question so that no matter how Becky responded she could be reprimanded.

“No, Momma, the truth doesn’t bother me. The narrative published bothers me.” Wren Eames bothered her. The fact that her mother was calling her about something she knew genuinely nothing about bothered her. “I hope those photos don’t cause any issues down at the church,” she added, knowing that was what her mother would want to hear.

“Yes, well. It’s a little late for that. Your father has spent the morning doing damage control.”

Becky muted herself so she could release a slew of words that would absolutely result in her mother getting on the next flight out. When it was all out of her system she unmuted herself. “I’m sorry about that, Momma. I should have thought about how my actions would reflect on our family values.”

There was a long pause on the other line. Becky had said all the right things, leaving her mother without much to say. She’d learned by the time she was about ten years old that there was no point in arguing. Even if your side of the story changed things, it didn’t matter. Taking accountability for everyone’s actions was the easiest way to get the issue resolved.

“Despite the photos, Sweetheart, your father and I are proud of you. You making the National Team is such a testament to all the time we put into your soccer career.”

Becky nearly snapped her phone in half. She had earned this. Their pride resided in their newfound opportunity to gloat. As for their time? Her parents had only bothered to appear at alumni matches when she was in college. They’d only gone to homecoming games when she was in high school. Hell, after she could drive, they’d never gone to one of her club games or practices. Sure, they’d paid for camp every summer, but they’d never actually supported her. If anything, summer camps had just been their way of getting their four children out of the house for summer vacations. It had very little to do with investing in their kids’ futures.

Of course Becky could say exactly zero of that to her mother. She took a deep, silent breath and forced a smile. “I know, Momma. I’m so grateful to have y’all rooting for me.” The words tasted like bile on the back of her tongue.

Becky’s plan to avoid Wren was, surprisingly, working. She hadn’t even needed to communicate it. Wren seemed to want as little to do with her as she did with Wren. Every time they were in their hotel room at the same time, Wren would pull her noise cancelling headphones on and read a book or play on her phone. Becky was more than happy to follow suit. They managed to stay out of each other’s way until Friday evening after practice. There was a loud knock on their hotel door. Becky was scrolling on her phone, and Wren was nearing the end of the book she had been reading all week. Part of Becky had wanted to ask her what the book was, but she hadn’t wanted to break the peace of their mutual silence.

Wren seemed not to have noticed the knock, so Becky crawled out of her bed and opened the door enough to see who was standing on the other side. Morgan Prescott smiled at Becky. Morgan was a veteran defender and had been Becky’s idol for years. Becky quickly glanced at Morgan’s outfit. She looked fit for a night club or a really trendy dinner spot.

“Hey, Morgan. What’s up?” Becky asked, pulling the door farther open.

Morgan nodded her head towards Wren in silent greeting. “We’re all going out to celebrate the first week of training camp in the books. We’re off tomorrow, so brace for a late night.”

Becky wasn’t much of someone who went out. Her dad was a prominent figure in her very small hometown. Her older brothers had gotten in trouble a few times. And Becky had learned just by watching that small towns liked watching their golden boys fall almost as much, if not more, than they liked to watch them succeed. She was more than a little aware that one bad move on her part would end up on the front page of some local news article dragging her just to dig at her father. She cringed at the thought. She heard movement from behind her and turned to see Wren pull open her bedside drawer, clearly grabbing clothes to go out. Becky forced a smile. Her team in college had always done similar things. She had always volunteered to be the designated driver, making sure that everyone got home safely. And while all she wanted to do was soak in Epsom Salt in the bathtub and go to sleep kind of early, she nodded, feigning excitement. “Sounds good. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

Morgan beamed at her. “Great. Can’t wait.”

Becky was thankful in that moment that she had let Katie talk her into packing a really cute jumpsuit and thick soled Doc Martin’s. She had protested, saying the boots took up way too much room in her suitcase, but Katie had insisted. She ducked into the bathroom to change. Wren hadn’t seemed to care about who changed where, and honestly it had made sense. They changed in the same locker room twice a day, and they had already seen each other naked before, but Becky had very pointedly made sure not to look. She had taken to changing in the bathroom. The easy nature in which they had fallen into existing without speaking was only uncomfortable when she thought about the fact that it wasn’t actually uncomfortable at all. Honestly, if she hadn’t heard Wren call that poor unsuspecting person on the phone “Baby,” they probably would have completely mended their relationship by now. Becky shook her head at the thought and zipped up the front of her jumpsuit.

She quickly did her makeup and redid her hair from a basic pony tail to a higher one, leaving some strands loose in the front to frame her face. She smiled at her reflection, pleased with the result of her efforts. She had taken all of ten minutes to get ready, and she looked completely acceptable for whatever the evening would bring. Put together, but low-key was always her goal, and tonight it felt like she had achieved it.