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I just look at her, smile, and nod. She does the same, but her eyes are cold, calculating. She’s my rival now, and I’m going to beat her.

Raul retrained us from 4-4-2 to 4-3-3.

Millie’s still in goal, with Sia, Aggie, Aditi, and Bernie being her last line of defense. Rosario, Valentina, and Rene are our midfielders, tasked to give the ball to Daisy, Mia, and me. We practiced this for weeks, and we’re as ready as we can be.

I glance at the home team’s bench where Declan is sitting, and he winks at me, a smug grin on his face. He’s still their coach, and he thinks he has the upper hand. He thinks he knows me, but he hasn’t seen what I’ve become.

He’s about to find out.

My father is in the box above the halfway line, in the middle of a row of Apex suits. My mom, Alycia, and Carmen are in the away section behind the goal in amber and navy, and my sister is cheering for me with both hands on her belly.

I wave at her, then turn back to the ref, who’s explaining the rules and the toss. He flips the coin, and we win the toss. We choose to kick off, and the ref blows the whistle.

The match begins.

Mia gets the first touch and passes it to me. I return it to Valentina to give myself time and space to run forward. I make myself available in the middle, and Daisy sprints on the wing.

Rene passes it to me, and I move forward, looking for Daisy. She’s marked by a defender, so I pass it to Valentina, who crosses it to the other side. Rene tries to head it in, but she misses by a few inches. We reset, going back to defend.

The first few minutes are tense, as both teams try to feel each other out. We play safe, not wanting to make any mistakes.

But as the game goes on, we start to open up, to take more risks. We move the ball around, creating chances, testing their defense.

Ingrid is a different kind of striker than I’m used to. She’s fast and strong. But she’s not a team player.

She tries to do it all by herself, ignoring her teammates, taking shots from impossible angles. She doesn’t score, but she does get a few corners and free kicks.

The game is 00, with halftime approaching. We’ve had the better chances, but haven’t been able to convert. Ingrid has been a constant threat, but we’ve managed to contain her, thanks to Aggie and Aditi’s solid defending and Millie’s brilliant saves.

Rosario’s forced to pass to our defense, but Ingrid is faster and she intercepts the ball. She goes straight for our goal, with only Aggie standing in her way.

They run side by side, with Ingrid trying to get past her. Aggie holds her ground, but when she attempts to tackle, Ingrid jumps over her leg and goes through.

Millie runs out of her box, trying to cut her off, but Ingrid shoots before she can reach her. The ball flies toward the net, and I hold my breath, hoping it will go wide.

But it doesn’t. It hits the back of the net, with Millie diving in the wrong direction. The Predators fans explode in cheers, while ours groan in disappointment.

Ingrid runs to the corner flag, pumping her fist in the air. She looks at me, smirking. I glare at her. I’m going to make her pay.

The ref blows the whistle for halftime, and we jog to the locker room, our heads down. Raul meets us at the door, his expression calm and encouraging.

“Don’t worry, ladies,” he says. “We’re still in this. We’ve played well, we just need to finish our chances. And we need to stop giving the ball away so easily. Remember, possession is key. Keep the ball, move it quick, and look for the open players. We can do this. We will do this.”

We nod. He’s right, we still have time to turn this around.

We sit down, drinking water, listening to Raul’s adjustments. He tells us to be more aggressive, to press higher, to win the ball back as soon as we lose it. He also tells me and Daisy to switch positions, to confuse their defense and create more space.

I’m nervous but excited. I like playing on the wing, it suits my style. I can use my speed and dribbling skills to beat defenders and cross the ball to Mia or Daisy, who will be in the center.

We get up, ready to go back to the field. We hug each other, shouting our motto.

“Breakers!”

We walk out of the tunnel, to the sound of our fans. They haven’t given up on us, they still believe in us. We owe it to them to give our best, to fight until the end.

Valentina reaches for my hand and squeezes. “We got this, cariño.”

“We do,” I say, squeezing back. “Let’s do it.”