“We did stuff like this ages ago,” one boy complains.

“What’s your name?” I inquire.

“Walter,” he replies sullenly.

“You can go first, Walter.” I smile sweetly.

He heaves out a sigh but does as I instruct. He runs through the drill perfectly. I keep my expression neutral but internally start sorting through drills I did in high school. Evidently, they’ve surpassed the middle school level.

I have them all run through the circle twice and then announce we’ll be doing one-on-one. That perks the group up. No surprise the competitive spirit is strong amongst them.

Three duos run through the exercise, and then it’s Walter and Mila’s turn. I have a bad feeling about the coupling as soon as Mila dribbles toward the two cones I set up as the goal.

Walter jostles her and kicks the ball away. I retrieve it and return it to Mila. “Start again. No contact, Walter.”

He mutters something in German but doesn’t touch her as he kicks the ball away for a second time, taking advantage of their size differential.

“Try again,” I encourage.

“I can’t do it!” Mila says.

“Yeah, ’cause you’re a girl,” Walter taunts.

I ignore him. “Come on, Mila,” I coax. “Try it one more time.”

She does, but the ball slips from her foot at the last minute with no interference from Walter.

“Everyone knows girls can’t play soccer as well,” Walter mocks.

This little— I take a deep breath. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” the insolent kid insists.

Mila’s lower lip wobbles, and that’s what breaks me.

“Come on.” I turn on my heel and start striding toward the other end of the field where Beck is gathered with his group. Either they see me as some sort of authority figure, despite being female, or they’re just curious, because they all trail after me.

Beck sees me coming. He keeps talking, demonstrating a maneuver that has all of his charges transfixed.

I let my group meld with his and stride to his side.

“Who knows who this is?” I point to Beck.

They all just stare at me. I turn my gaze to Walter.

“Who is this?” I ask again. “This male player?”

“Adler Beck,” Walter replies peevishly.

“And is Adler Beck good at soccer?”

“Yes.” Walter’s lost a little bit of his bravado suddenly. Either it’s because we’re in front of his peers, or because Beck is present. Since he’s had no trouble tossing sass at me in front of the other kids until now, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter. Which only annoys me more.

“And who am I?”

Walter looks at me with confusion. “Saylor,” he mutters.

“Am I a girl?”

“I guess. A grown-up one.” I almost smile at that but force my face to remain serious.

“Do you think I can play football as well as this German grown-up boy?”