Scored by the Alpha

I stared at my locker in confusion. This was the third morning this week I'd found an energy drink and protein bar waiting for me. The first time, I'd assumed someone had accidentally left them. The second time seemed like a strange coincidence. But now? This was deliberate.

I picked up the blue sports drink—my favorite brand—and examined it. There was no note, no explanation. Just the perfectly placed items that somehow appeared before my 7 AM training session.

"Secret admirer?" Maya asked, appearing beside me with her usual perfect timing. My best friend had a knack for showing up whenever something interesting was happening.

"I have no idea," I admitted, turning the bottle in my hand. "It's weird, right?"

Maya shrugged, leaning against the neighboring locker. "Weird but thoughtful. Someone's looking out for you."

My mind flashed unexpectedly to Noah Wolfe. I'd seen him several times since our awkward locker room encounter—mostly on the field during the boys' team practice. Each time, I'd caught him watching me with those intense eyes that seemed to see right through me. But he couldn't be behind this... could he?

"Earth to Lila," Maya waved her hand in front of my face. "You zoned out. Thinking about that new guy again?"

"What? No!" I protested too quickly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I'm just trying to figure out who's breaking into my locker to leave sports drinks."

"Breaking in seems dramatic. Maybe Coach Miller? She's always going on about proper hydration."

I shook my head. "Coach would just hand them to me and lecture me about electrolytes."

As if summoned by her name, Coach Miller's voice echoed down the hallway. "Carter! Rodriguez! Field, now! We've got a new player to evaluate!"

Maya and I exchanged glances. A new player? Mid-season?

"Coming, Coach!" I called back, quickly stuffing the mysterious offerings into my bag. Whatever this was, it would have to wait.

---

The moment I stepped onto the field, I felt it—a shift in the air, a tension that hadn't been there yesterday. The team was gathered in a loose circle around Coach Miller and a girl I didn't recognize. Even from a distance, something about her screamed trouble.

She was tall and lithe, with perfect posture that somehow managed to look both elegant and predatory. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore training gear that looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe. But it was her expression that really caught my attention—a cold, calculating smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Ladies," Coach Miller announced as Maya and I joined the group, "this is Sage Blackwood. She's just transferred from Westridge Academy and will be joining our varsity squad effective immediately."

Murmurs rippled through the team. Westridge was a private school known for its elite sports program. A transfer from there was unusual—and potentially game-changing for our team.

"Blackwood has an impressive record," Coach continued. "All-state selection last year, led Westridge in scoring, and—"

"And I'm looking forward to elevating this team's performance," Sage interrupted, her voice smooth and confident. Her gaze swept over the group before landing on me, and I swear the temperature dropped ten degrees. "You must be Lila Carter. The... captain."

The way she said 'captain' made it sound like a questionable title, one she was already challenging. I straightened my shoulders, meeting her stare directly.

"That's right," I said, extending my hand. "Welcome to Silvercrest High."

She took my hand with a grip that was unnecessarily tight. "Thanks. I've heard so much about this team. I'm excited to see if the reality lives up to the... modest reputation."

I felt Maya stiffen beside me, but I kept my expression neutral. "Well, you'll get your chance to find out. We work hard here."

"I'm sure you do," Sage replied with a smile that was all teeth. "Some of us just don't need to work quite as hard as others."

Before I could respond, Coach Miller blew her whistle. "Alright, enough chitchat. Let's see what Blackwood can do. Full-field scrimmage, blue pinnies versus white. Carter, you're white team captain. Blackwood, you're with blue."

As we broke to get ready, Maya whispered, "What's her problem?"

"No idea," I muttered, "but she's definitely got one."

The scrimmage started normally enough. Sage was good—really good. She moved with a fluid grace that made the rest of us look clumsy in comparison. Her ball control was impeccable, her passes precise. But there was something else, something in the way she played that set my nerves on edge.

It became clear when we first challenged for the same ball. I got there a split second before her, but instead of pulling back, she drove her shoulder into my ribs with shocking force. I stumbled, the wind knocked out of me, as she took possession and sprinted toward goal.

"Keep your feet, Carter!" Coach called from the sideline, apparently missing the blatant foul.

I gasped for breath, watching as Sage scored effortlessly. When she jogged back to midfield, she gave me a look that was pure challenge.

"Sorry about that," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "I thought you'd be... stronger."

The second time it happened, her cleats raked down my shin as she "accidentally" mistimed a tackle. The third time, her elbow caught me in the back as we jumped for a header.

Each time, she had a perfect excuse. Each time, Coach Miller just urged us to play harder. And each time, Sage would whisper something that only I could hear.

"Is this really the best Silvercrest has to offer?"

"No wonder your team hasn't won state in years."

"Such a shame they made a human the captain."

That last comment made me falter. Human? What was that supposed to mean?

By the end of practice, I was bruised, furious, and completely baffled by Sage's apparent vendetta against me. As we gathered for Coach's post-practice talk, Sage stood front and center, looking fresh and unruffled while I tried not to wince from my various new injuries.

"Good intensity out there today," Coach Miller said, scanning our faces. "Blackwood, impressive first showing. That kind of aggressive play is exactly what we need to push for state this year."

Sage beamed, all innocence and pride. "Thank you, Coach. I'm just trying to bring my best to the team."

"Carter," Coach turned to me, her expression more critical, "you seemed a step slow today. I need my captain setting the pace, not chasing it."

I bit back a defensive response. "Yes, Coach."

"I see some healthy competition developing here," Coach continued, looking between Sage and me. "Channel it productively. Use it to make each other better, not to create drama. Clear?"

"Crystal clear, Coach," Sage replied sweetly.

As we broke to hit the showers, Sage brushed past me, her shoulder deliberately bumping mine. "Better step it up, Captain," she murmured. "Your position isn't as secure as you think."

I watched her walk away, a chill running down my spine that had nothing to do with the cooling sweat on my skin. Something told me this was just the beginning of whatever game Sage Blackwood was playing—and I had a sinking feeling I didn't even know the rules.