Off Pitch
Brianna Kienitz © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

I stood back to watch my handiwork as the soccer ball soared gracefully into the top-right corner of the goal, and a whistle blew from somewhere near the sideline to signal the end of practice. I sighed with contentment at my own spectacular skill and jogged toward the net to help clean up the mess of balls that littered the goal area. My bedeviled locks clung to my sweaty forehead as the summer sun beat down from the clear August sky and reflected off Lake Michigan, bathing the soccer field in a double-whammy heat wave.

“God, Adds! Do you ever let up? The season hasn’t even started yet,” Jessica whined from her position inside the goal.

“After fourteen years on the pitch together, I thought you’d have learned the answer to that question.” I gave her chestnut ponytail a playful tug, and she glared at me while she leaned casually against the goalpost.

“Well, there was that one time in first grade when we sat down in your living room and watched a movie.”

“Ha. Ha.” I rolled my eyes. Jessica Strobel and I had been best friends since first grade. Now, going into our junior year at Northwestern University, our relationship subsisted entirely on sarcasm and caffeine.

“I’ll tell you what. Since you managed to block almost 10 percent of my shots, and I know what a sore loser you are, I’ll take you out to coffee after we’re done here.”

“Wow, your highness. You are so magnanimous. Thank you soooooo much,” Jessica said with a flagrant eye roll. As much as we teased, I did feel a little guilty for dragging her to this practice. It was the last day before the start of fall classes, and while pre-semester practices weren’t mandatory, I was beginning to feel the stress of the inevitability of graduating in two years. I only had two seasons left to impress scouts and get picked up by a professional team, or risk becoming another college has-been. That was a fate to which I refused to succumb.

Jessica was, and always had been, my rock. She kept me grounded and sane, which was no small feat, given my penchant for being a high-strung ass much of the time. Her role in my life was much like that of the Roman slaves who whispered in Caesar’s ear, “Remember, thou art mortal,” as he paraded victorious. Not that I thought I was immortal but I did have a big head. Jessica was the person who kept my over-inflated ego from carrying me away like a hot-air balloon.

“Fahey! Strobel! Clean up now, chitchat later,” Coach barked from the sideline. “Some of us have places to be.”

“You heard the man.” Jessica gave me a pointed look. “You made this mess. You clean it up.” Without another word, she traipsed off toward the locker rooms. I sighed audibly, but silently smirked at her retreating back. She put me in my place like no one else could. It was only fair that I pick up. If I hadn’t dragged her to this voluntary practice, she would probably still be sitting in our shared apartment in her pajamas, watching whatever show she was currently obsessed with.

Once I had stuffed the plethora of soccer balls back into a bag, I hitched it over my shoulder and hauled it to the sideline where the coach waited impatiently. He seemed focused on whatever he was doing on his clipboard, so I didn’t dare disturb him. I threw the bag into the pile of soccer sundries for the equipment manager to deal with and started to trot toward the locker room. I was only a few steps along when the coach called after me.

“Hold up, Fahey. A word, please.” His tone was always gruff, but I had learned that his demeanor was more warm than harsh. His face seemed to bear a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, but his blue eyes were always bright beneath his bushy rich brown hair. It was as if he was built to be a coach, right down to his powerful physique and firm attitude.

“What’s up, Coach?”

“Gardener is gone,” he said without looking up from his clipboard.

“Yeah. I know.” I felt like he was stating the obvious. Cam Gardener had been the captain of Northwestern University’s women’s soccer team for the past two years. She had graduated last year, and we’d held a big going-away party for her and the other graduates at the end of the semester. I was perfectly aware that graduating meant she wouldn’t be on the team anymore.

“So, we’ll need a new captain.” Coach looked up at me finally. “It’ll be the ladies’ decision, ultimately, but I want it to be you.” His expression was calculating as he waited for me to respond.

“Oh…wow! I…thanks, Coach. I mean, it’s up to the others, obviously, but…yeah. I’ll think about it. Thank you. I’ll think about it,” I babbled and started to walk away. I felt Coach’s gaze weighing on the back of my strong shoulders, and my thoughts began to race. I had never really considered being captain of any team. I was an excellent player by any standards, and it wasn’t that I was selfish, or a showboat, but I was always focused on being the best I could be. I loved being part of a team, but I had never thought of myself as a leader.

The prospect was both exhilarating and daunting. I tried not to let it worry me as I undressed and showered in the locker room. Hopefully, Jessica was up for being a sounding board, and she could help me figure this whole situation out. She was always the level-headed one.

Have any of your past loves inspired characters in your books?

Music was my first love, and Gabriella in Off Pitch is heavily inspired by that love.

Is today’s generation more aware of the literary art or less?

I don’t know about awareness, but I think people today are more engaged in literature than ever before. Social media is changing the way society works and literature is no exception. The ability for writers and readers to engage is changing the way the writing game works. I think it is a fascinating process to watch.

If you’re writing about a city/country/culture you haven’t physically visited, how much research do you conduct before you start writing?

When I’m writing about real things/cultures/places I don’t know about, I often spend days researching them. It is important for me to be as accurate as possible if I’m going to inject reality in fiction. It’s my goal to reach a reader who can say,  “Hey! I know that place!” and feel that I’ve done reality justice. I am constantly learning about people, culture, and places, and I hope that others will see fit to educate me if I do reality a disservice.

Do you have specific culture you like to write about?

I have been passionately enamored with Irish culture since I was a wee lass. In college I minored in Irish Studies, and I consistently introduced myself as an Irish Studies minor with a major in Organizational Communication. I’ve studied the language, the literature, the music, the dance, the folklore. I love to sprinkling Ireland throughout my stories. One of these days I’ll dive into that passion more deeply in my writing.

Tell us about an interesting or memorable encounter you had with a fan?

Once upon a time, a certain someone messaged me on Wattpad. She had read my stories, loved them, and was wondering if I would take a look at the story she was working on. Countless hours of messaging and several wonderfully awkward Skype dates later, that wonderful someone has become one of my best friends, my beacon of hope for the future, and my window to a greater world outside of my own. She has taught me so much and given me so much to strive for as a person, and we’ve never truly met. Writing is a strange and wonderful adventure.

How active are you on social media? And how do you think it affects the way you write?

I am a Twitter fiend. I am tapped into Twitter almost constantly. Twitter is the reason I even considered publishing my writing and the means by which I made it happen (with a lot of help from my Twitter family). The writers I have met on Twitter have helped me develop my writing skills and have broadened my perspectives. Not to mention they have become the mainstay of my social circle and the support on which I lean when life gets tough.