Goal:

It had been a whole week since I had seen, heard or spoken to Elliot. To any of the team, really. The weather had eased up after the night of the storm, but it had been freezing, and so, all the training and games had been called off due to frozen pitches. School, however, had resumed as normal, and in the free time I had I had been catching up on work and doing extra so that it was all done for the next few weeks. I was due to write my first ever, going-to-be-published, match report today, the first match they had had since the storm. I was terrified. Although I had learnt a lot in the weeks I had been with them it still didn't feel like enough. I didn't think it would ever feel like enough.

Although the match was on, it was still cold – freezing even. And so, I was precise in picking what I was going to wear. I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. I grabbed my black skinny jeans and a fluffy white, long sleeved, v-neck jumper that just reached the top of my jeans. I put on a black ring belt and wore a new pair of vans that I had bought after much consideration and judgement from the team about not owning any trainers. I grabbed a short black puffer coat and a long black and white scarf to ensure I wouldn't freeze against the cold wind. With my laptop and bag in tow I set off towards the stadium, arriving at the same time as the players to hear the team talks, match previews and any gossip. I also wanted to go early because I sort of missed him – them.

Once I was there, I waved at the old man manning the turnstiles, and rushed through to the changing rooms. I knocked on the door and Jack answered. He smiled at me and let me in, and I took my resident seat next to Elliot on the bench as Coach began his speech. I grabbed my laptop and noted down the main points he mentioned – about the plays they were going to use and the spirit they needed to beat the opposition.

Elliot didn't even say hi to me.

Once Coach was done the boys grabbed their things and headed out, everyone saying bye as I wished them good luck. Everyone but Elliot. I followed them out and took my place in the stand. The opposition came out and both teams trained on either side of the pitch. I grabbed my phone and took a few pictures, also noted a few things Elliot was shouting at them. He was the captain after all.

Not long after they all went inside to get changed and came back out, shaking everyone's hands and getting in their positions.

"Come on boys, another 3 points lets go!" Elliot shouted and the rest of the boys cheered.

The game started well, and the boys battered the team 4-0 by half time. There wasn't any trouble and everyone on our side went in at half time in good spirits. Second half, however, was a different story. The opposition came out fighting, they were having none of the fancy football we were playing first half and tackled everything they could. They began being called up for fouls, and the game got rough quick. Little shoves in the back when the referee wasn't watching, and snide comments being whispered in our ears. But with 20 minutes to go and the score still being 4-0 they weren't gaining anything from the violent way they were suddenly playing. They had lost their heads and it was no surprise to anyone when a dangerous two-foot tackle was made against Elliot, red card worthy from 600 miles away, and the player started on the referee and then our boys. He was screaming, shouting, swearing, calling the referee all sorts of names whilst Elliot was on the floor nearly screaming. Our physio ran onto the pitch before the referee could tell him to, immediately dealing with whatever injury Elliot had received whilst the boy carried on. Half of our team were with Elliot and the other half were trying to get the boy to leave. He had no regard for the pain he had caused Elliot and the fact that he was still on the floor 10 minutes later was not a good sign. I was furiously typing whilst trying to see if Elliot was ok. I was worried for him; my heart was pounding, and I felt sick. I never realised football could be so dangerous.

"He'll be ok chick, he's a strong lad." A man said from a few rows above me, I turned around and smiled worriedly at him.

"Let's hope so."

"You his new girl then?" He asked, sucking on his cigarette and blowing it to the side. I tried not to cringe as I shook my head. He was a man in his late forties, rather scruffy looking with greasy hair. He was probably a local.

"Not at all."

"That's what they all say." He chuckled and I shook my head, turning back to look at the game. The manager of the opposition had taken the boy from the pitch himself and now the attention was focused on Elliot. The physio gestured for a stretcher and my stomach lurched. Once it was out and Elliot was on it, four boys carried him through with the physio trailing. Two of ours and two of the oppositions. Everyone in the stands stood up and I followed in their footsteps as they clapped Elliot out. I desperately wanted to run with the physio and find out what was wrong, but I couldn't. I had to finish the game to finish my report. That was my job. Not worrying about Elliot.

The game ended with 3 points to us, it fizzled down after Elliot's injury and the football played was quite soft. As soon as the final whistle blew, I made my last note, shut my laptop down, shoved it into my bag and fleeted for the physio room next door to the changing rooms. Once I was there, I took a minute to calm down before I knocked. The physio answered with a smile and beckoned me in.

"Had a feeling you would turn up soon." He chuckled and led me through to a back room. Before he opened the door, I stopped.

"Is he ok?" I asked and the physio nodded.

"A bit out of it. It was a head injury, banged it on the floor as he went down which made him a bit woozy. He's been sick and nearly passed out on the pitch which is why we got the stretcher, but it's just concussion. He'll be out for a few weeks, but he'll be fine, no lasting damage." He explained and I sighed in relief. At least there was nothing permanent.

He opened the door and once I was in, he shut it behind me. I slowly walked over to the bed Elliot was in. The room was a bright white, like a hospital, and there was a hospital bed in the room, with a table next to it and a small chair. Elliot was laying down with his head facing the wall but when he heard the door, he turned it slowly to look over at me. His face was bruised, and there was a cut on his lip, making them swollen.

"Hey." He muttered deeply, a small smile came and went quickly as I smiled at him.

"Hey." I said and made my way over to his bed. "How are you feeling?" I asked and he chuckled slowly.

"Great." He said sarcastically and I laughed quietly.

"Good to know concussion hasn't ruined your humour." I muttered and he chuckled again.

"Never. What was the score in the end?" He asked and tried to sit up, he winced and I offered a hand but he shook his head.

"4 nil." I said and he smiled.

"Good." He sighed and his head lolled over his shoulder to look at me. "Why did you come here?" He asked and I smiled.

"Because I wanted to make sure you're ok."

"Why? I've been a prick to you all week." He said and I shook my head.

"It doesn't matter. Everyone's been busy. I just needed to know you were ok." I explained and gently ran my fingers down the side of his face. He shut his eyes and hummed.

"I'm tired." He whispered.

"Go to sleep then." I said and he nodded.

"Hey Isla?"

"Yeah?" I asked him.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" He asked and I gulped.

"Do you want me to be here?" I asked nervously, retracting my hand. He opened his eyes and grabbed my hand with his own before it reached my side. He shut his eyes again and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Okay." I whispered. "I'll stay."