Hi there! Thanks for checking out my story. This is the first I've ever shared, so I welcome productive feedback. Please keep in mind that I'm new to the platform and new to creative writing in general. I've previously really only used creative writing as a form of personal therapy. And while this story still serves that purpose, it has fewer elements of "me" in it than usual.
If this gets a positive response, I'll write a Part Two from Kelsey's POV.
Part One
Beckett was laid out across the backseat of Sam and Sylvie's four-door Wrangler listening to a book while their teammates argued about the best route to take to Philadelphia. The two didn't fight often and usually only about directions. But maybe that did mean that they fought often because they were literally on the road most of the year. Beckett snickered to themself and sat upright again. It sounded like Sam & Sylvie were done with their disagreement.
"What are you laughing at, Buckets?" Sam asked from the driver's seat. Beckett didn't love the nickname but it was their own fault. They wore a bucket hat to a team meeting and their teammates have never let them live it down. Which was appropriate, given how terrible that stupid hat looked on them. It was the first and last time that they took fashion advice from their sixteen year-old nibling.
"You two," they said, pulling their headphones from their ears. "You spend most of your time driving from one place to another, do you bicker over which interstate to take when you're on the road too?"
Sylvie turned to face Beckett over her left shoulder. "Only when we're driving to or around the Philadelphia area. They insist that we take the weirdest routes." Considering that Sam was from the Philly area, that wasn't surprising to Beckett. "But enough about I-95, are you excited?"
This was Beckett's first trip to the annual queer women's+ tournament, it was in a different location each year and included more than a hundred teams. Hell yeah, they were excited! Despite their team going almost every year, they'd never been able to; Laura had made certain of that. Even when their local league in Portland, Maine hosted the tournament, Laura insisted that it was unfair to her for Beckett to play when they knew she couldn't. She was a teacher and the tournament was scheduled during an in-service week.
Beckett used to think it was a jealousy thing, but close to a year after their breakup, they finally understood what it really was - control. Laura needed to control Beckett. She had no reason to believe that Beckett would ever cheat on her but she used insecurities that she held onto from previous relationships to justify her fears. And Beckett was too afraid to walk away; afraid that no one would love them but Laura.
Beckett was ready to put all of that behind them and enjoy the tournament they'd dreamed of going to for so long. A tournament full of queer people, many of them single according to her teammates in the front seat. They'd been to more than a dozen of these tournaments each, so they were giving Beckett the lay of the land.
"So, obviously," Sam said motioning towards their wife, "it's not a tournament of
only
single people, I'd say like twenty-five percent."
"You said there'd be a lot of single people! I brought my... you know..." Beckett trailed off, hoping their friends would fill in the blanks.
"Well Sam has no room to talk," Sylvie paused to watch her wife roll their eyes at her, "but I can make fun of you."
"I didn't hear you complaining."
"Gross, gross, I don't need to hear about my moms fucking on the balcony of a hotel room again." Beckett said, shoving their fingers in their ears dramatically. They only referred to the two as their moms when they talked about sex or when Beckett had to stay at their house after a long night out with the team and the two took care of them.
"Anyway," Sam said, returning to the topic at hand. "Twenty-five percent is still a lot of queer women and gender-diverse folks. That's like..."
"At least three or four-hundred people," Sylvie said, finishing Sam's sentence and saving them from having to do the math in their head.
"That's a lot of people to compete with." Beckett had been working out a little more lately to prepare for the tournament and they were feeling fairly confident about themself, but there was always a little voice in the back of their head saying they weren't good enough.
Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Trust me, people are going to be all over you. Fresh blood. New meat. But we have to come up with a warning sign that we can give you if you're talking to someone that we know brings a lot of drama with them." Sylvie had played in several leagues over the years and Sam played in Philadelphia until they met Sylvie and opted for life on the road. So they knew a lot of the people who went to this tournament year after year.
"I know! We'll bring you a drink that is
red
for
red flag
." Sam seemed very proud of themself for the idea.
"A red drink? You know I don't drink liquor," Beckett said, making a gagging sound. They did not get along with liquor anymore and especially didn't want whatever might make a drink red in color. Cranberry juice? No thanks, they weren't twenty-two anymore.
"You don't have to drink it, it's just a way to get you out of a conversation," Sam replied.
"And if it's someone we really like for you, we'll bring you something green," Sylvie added.
"Green?" Beckett was trying to picture a green drink. Apple? Melon?
"We'll make them beers or seltzers, how's that? Whatever color is on the can or bottle." Sam was always the problem-solver.
"It seems a little elaborate, but ok." Beckett thought maybe they could just make a cawing sound instead of this complicated drink system.
"We're married and we're a decade older than you, we don't have fun often, let us play our game," Sylvie said with a laugh.
"Fine," Beckett said, putting their earbuds back in and stretching across the backseat again. "But only because it'll get me free drinks."
After the long drive down, Beckett called it an early night, but the next morning they awoke with enough energy for all three roommates.
Sam and Sylvie opted to sleep in while Beckett took an early morning tour of the city. They wound up running all the way to the Art Museum before turning back to their hotel near City Hall. Four miles was a little more than they usually ran, but their energy didn't fade one bit.
After a late breakfast with Sam and Sylvie, they squeezed two more teammates, Ashley and Frankie, into the Jeep and made their way across the bridge to the fields where the tournament would take place. Despite it being a Philadelphia tournament, the fields were actually in New Jersey just a few minutes over the bridge.
