So, I am not going to start this book like a ton of other people do.

No alarm buzzing that wakes me up to go to school.

Nah. I'll just skip the getting ready part. The part where I look in the mirror, describe a beautiful body, and then call myself ugly.

I am just going to be honest. Most people aren't model quality, so why are the main characters always barbie dolls?

I don't have a nice ass or C cup or D cup chest.

I don't wear yoga pants or leggings. I don't do my hair up in a messy bun. I don't put on makeup. I don't wear crop tops or short shorts.

I wear my million pairs of Tiro pants and baggy sweaters and soccer jerseys. Maybe, if I feel like it, a boring T-shirt.

I have short hair which I fix in the morning, I throw on my indoor soccer shoes, and then I walk/jog to school, depending on how late I am.

That's my morning. No scarily descriptive scenes of me in the shower, no contemplating life and existence while choosing a shirt. No obnoxious alarm clocks that I slam my hand on while hating it.

And, by the way, do people ever pack their backpacks in books?

I pack my soccer bag and my backpack. Like a normal person who is on a soccer team.

I grabbed my phone, which is not, by the way, and iPhone.

I don't have a squad who I ride to school with in the morning, or a scene on the bus where I am either being bullied or gossiping with some girl who's hair I envy.

So, yeah. I'm not exactly a normal main character.

Oh, and, my name is Linea. Just in case I forgot to mention.

I walked to school, didn't really care much about the birds tweeting or the grass being green or the flowers scent in the wind.

My nose is stuffed up, okay?

That's also something you probably don't see.

Well, like a good number of you people on Earth, I have a stuffy nose and I do get a common cold.

I walked into the school and immediately spotted my best friend, Mateo.

A few people stopped to congratulate me on the most recent win for the girls soccer team because I, the goalie, was like an impenetrable wall.

I didn't stop to chat or brag though. We don't have much time in school to chat. I actually do have classes.

That might be a first. A schoolgirl in a book actually having classes.

I walked up to Mateo, and he didn't notice me at first. A few people he was talking to saw me, but they chose to not say anything. It was much more fun to wait until I did something to get him to notice me standing behind him.

I took out my water bottle for soccer, which I had filled this morning with ice and water so it would be cold, and I unscrewed the lid, taking out a handful of ice cubes.

Carefully, I pulled the neck of Mateo's shirt and dropped the ice cubes down it, and then I stepped back and waited for the chaos to unfold.

Needless to say, he felt it immediately and spun around to see me with a smug smile on my face. He glared, but then threw off his backpack and ripped off his shirt, trying to get rid of them as soon as possible, while everyone who watched the whole thing unfold was laughing.

The ice cubes fell to the ground, and Mateo's face turned as red as a ripe tomato.

He put his shirt back on, and on the back, you could clearly see the path that the ice cube took down his back. And all you horny high school girls could see his abs. Oooh. How exotic.

I don't care.

Whenever me and some guys got together to play soccer, we played shirts vs skins, and I have been on both teams. I was wearing a bra, so I don't really see why not having a shirt is so bad.

And because of this, I know what many guys look like shirtless, and it is pretty disappointing, actually. Unlike most teen stories, not many high school boys have 6 packs. Not many are really Hollister-model quality.

Anyway, back to the present. Mateo, one of the few guys who wasn't just a living blob of fat, was glaring at me while putting his shirt back on.

"What was that for, Linea?" He complained.

"You are blind. I was standing behind you," I stated, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Why do I even put up with you," He grumbled.

"Becuase I put up with you," I retorted.

"Fine," He grumbled. "I heard you did well in your soccer game yesterday?"

"You were there," I laughed. "You were trying to join in with the cheerleaders."

There was a story behind that. I was on the field, and there were cheerleaders on the sideline. Mateo, being the guy that everyone knew, decided to join in. He could kick his leg up as high as them, but other than that, he was basically just looking like a four-year-old trying to copy his parents. He also fell over a few times, which almost distracted me from the soccer game.

"I was trying to change the subject, okay? Give me a break," He said, but I just laughed.

"Yes, then. I did very well. My shutout streak is still alive, and I am too. I'll consider that a good day," I said with a smile. So far, ever since I first tried out for the soccer team in my freshman year, I had never let a goal past me in a match. Currently, I'm a junior. I have played on the varsity team ever since freshman year, though. So, I am the queen of the goal.

"That's cool. Do you have practice today?" He asked.

"Nah. Not after a game like yesterday's," I said.

"You want to play with the guys? We are going to gather up a bunch of people and play, like usual," He said, scratching the back of his neck and looking away.

"You seem nervous," I said, playfully punching him in the arm.

"Hey, that's not very nice," He said, just like a little toddler. "I'm not nervous."

"You are definitely nervous. What did you do?" I asked, looking up to him because that boy was tall.

"Nothing. Nothing," He said, trying to brush away the topic. I'll ask about it later. "So, can you come for soccer?"

"Yeah. Why not?" I said. "But, don't you think that this conversation is over. We will continue it later." I said and then I headed off to class. Like a normal person.

But classes are all boring. The teachers teach things that I will never need to know later in life, and I want to go to sleep in the middle of every class.

So, for the most part, I am going to basically skip classes to maintain your sanity and go right to after school things.

So, that is exactly what I am doing.

I skip around a lot, okay?

I grabbed my backpack and soccer bag and then headed to the soccer fields where a few guys were already hanging out, taking shots on goal.

I walked over, set my stuff down by one of the goals, and then headed into the goal, ready for people to start shooting on me.

"Step aside," I said, pushing away the goalie. "The queen is here."

A few minutes later, everyone was here, and they were just taking shots on me. I tried my best to block as many as I could, but I did occasionally miss one or two because there were just too many shots at once.

"Yo, guys!" Someone yelled. "Let's play an actual game." I'll spare you from trying to learn his name. He isn't really important.

We were picking teams, and as usual, Mateo was the first one chosen. Then a couple of other forwards. It usually took a little while for a team to realize that they needed a goalie. And then whichever team had the better goalie usually won.

But, I'll let the boys do it their way. Someday they will learn.

I saw Mateo whispering to his team captain, and then he gestured to me.

He is trying to get me on his team.

Smart boy.

If anyone is going to do something great in life, it is him. He won't just be a soccer player. He will be a very hot underwear model, a public figure, and a good person.

Did I just think that he would be hot?

Weird.

Did I actually like him?

Nah. That's just what other people would think. They would think he was hot. I would think of him as my best friend.

Right?

Great. Now I am questioning myself.

He is my best friend. That's it. Nothing else.

Right?

"We get Linea," Said Mateo's team leader, snapping me out of my daze.

Did I just become the fourth one chosen?

I think so.

Leave it to Mateo to be the first one to figure out this kind of thing. That boy is way smarter than people give him credit for.

He's just so underappreciated. Whenever a girl rejects him, that is just the worst. This boy deserves so much better than that.

So much better than every girl he has asked out and let him down. Someone who understands. Someone who he has poured his heart out to and who he could trust.

Someone like me.

There we go again with the whole thing with me liking him. I swear, I don't I've never thought of him in that kind of way, and I'm 80% percent sure he hasn't  thought of me in that kind of way.

Maybe 70%

Make that 60%...

Right?

Just friends.

Right?

I DID IT!
This is chapter 1.
Please tell me what you think, because I don't know how good of a writer I am.
I love you guys!

XOXO

-Leyla