Just One Kick

Jennie wakes up to the sound of running water.

Her eyes heavy with sleep, struggling to open under the sharp sunlight that filters through the open blinds. Her arm falls over her eyelids, a temporary shield against the sun, until she hears a distinct, aloof voice coming from above.

“Morning.”

It works better than a bucket of cold water as Jennie's eyes snap open and she scrambles to sit up. She in a calming breath, glaring at Jimin as she exhales slowly.

“Could you ing stop doing that?”

Standing behind the couch, Jimin quirks an eyebrow. Tips of her hair are dripping wet, and she wears nothing but a silk bathrobe. A mug with steaming coffee nestled in her palms.

“Doing what?” she inquires and hides her smirk behind the rim of the mug.

Jennie's glare hardens. “Creeping up on me.”

“I'm not,” Jimin states calmly. “Maybe you just have something on your conscious?”

“What?” Jennie blurts out, too defensively for her own liking.

She blames it on her mind being still hazy from the lingering intoxication.

“They say that if you get startled easily, it means you have something on your conscious,” Jimin provides, her expression unreadable as she takes another sip.

Jennie's tongue darts to wet her dry lips.

She isn't sure whether she should answer the question, or is it just Jimin messing around with her, again.

(Sometimes Jennie feels as if Jimin sees right through her – through the facade and the lies.

But if she does, would she keep her so close?

No.

And it's better not to think what she would do if she really knew the truth.)

“Nothing more than what you have,” Jennie intones nonchalantly, stretching arms above her head.

Jimin chuckles. “Fair enough.”

She saunters around the couch and takes a seat in an armchair opposite to Jennie.

“What happened to your hands?” she asks, sounding like a good cop would sound during an interrogation.

Jennie hates it.

“Tripped on my way here,” she provides without going into details. “Where's June?” She diverts the topic.

However, it's a legitimate question to ask, since the boy constantly follows Jimin around like a lovesick puppy, and usually, stays for the night.

“He had some family business to attend,” Jimin replies, and there's an edge to her voice that clearly warns Jennie not to pursue the topic. “Go take a shower. You reek of alcohol and sweat.”

“ you,” Jennie mutters, but leaves the couch and goes to the bathroom, since she does feel gross.

The hot shower clears the fog away from her mind and alleviates her sore muscles.

She tries not to think that she's alone with Jimin. It shouldn't be a big deal. They're friends, even if it doesn't feel that way. The thinly veiled mistrust may go unnoticed by the others, but to Jennie, it's as obvious as Jimin's hatred for the soccer team.

Which makes her wonder, if Jimin doesn't trust her, then why she not only took her under her wing, but went as far as to turn her into her right hand?

Jennie vividly remembers the day when a blond girl in a flannel shirt and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder bumped into her on the school corridor. The words 'ing dyke' left Jennie's mouth before she could even register their meaning.

Jimin caught it. Jimin liked it.

But Jennie didn't believe her high position in Jimin's 'ranks' was achieved thanks to 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' strategy. After all, Seolhyun, Chanmi and Mina, all held the same opinions.

So why Jimin has chosen her? When she clearly observers her every step with a little more attention, with a little more curiosity, with a little more suspicion.

A knock on the door startles her out of her thoughts and she turns off the water.

“Be a bit more mindful of the environment, Jen.” Jimin's voice comes muffled through the door.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Jennie says and steps out of the shower.

The mirror above the sink is fogged up, but she doesn't wipe it.

(She doesn't want to reflect on her own motivations behind joining Jimin's group.)

The rest of the morning goes by rather uneventful. Jimin tells her to make herself a breakfast if she wants to and she does. Peanut butter and jelly, something she would never suspect to find in Jimin's cupboard.

She says her goodbyes, after she's finished with washing the dishes, and Jimin's reply catches her off guard.

“Be careful, Jen,” the girl says, leaning against the door's frame. “We wouldn't want your face to share the fate of your hands.”

Jennie stares at her, wondering why her skin covers with goosebumps, all of a sudden.

“See you at school,” the girl adds, smiling and closes the door.

Shoving her hands to the pockets of her jacket, Jennie turns around and leaves.

Glad that this morning is finally over.
 

* * *
 

Lisa hates Sundays.

It's the most boring day of the week, and not only because it's the 'no soccer day', but because Sundays always follow the same path of monotonous events.

It starts with a visit to the church.

Dressed in their formal clothes, Lisa and her parents always take the same seat in the same row. And for the next hour, Lisa fights the urge to doze off as the old preacher drones from the pulpit.

(To his credit, the sermons aren't that bad.

It's just his serene voice that puts Lisa to sleep.)

After the mass is over, they stop outside the church for a mandatory chat with her father's colleagues. Lawyers, prosecutors, judges. Lisa is expected to smile and nod during those, just like her mother, and so she does.

Back at home, Lisa helps her mother with the dinner. They eat it in silence until the dessert when her father begins to interrogate her about school, grades and homeworks. After that she is dismissed to her room where she is expected to study till the evening.

(Her father checks on her every hour.)

Today, however, something changes as Lisa finally plucks up enough courage to question her parents about their absence at the Friday match.

“We won the game on Friday,” she blurts out when her mother places a bowl with ice-cream in front of her. “I scored three goals.”

Both of her parents look visibly caught off guard by the confession. She knows it's not because they are impressed, but because it's not a topic they would discuss over their Sunday dessert. In fact, it's not a topic they would ever discuss.

Her mother is first to overcome her shock.

“Congratulations, honey,” she says, lips stretched in a forced smile.

“You've promised you would come to watch,” Lisa mumbles with reproach, gaze focused on the melting ice-cream.

“We were busy,” her father states curtly.

He's a sturdy man with sternness inscribed onto the sharp edges of his face.

“No you weren't,” Lisa counters quietly, and in an instant, her father's cold eyes are on her.

“Have you looked through the leaflets I gave you?” he questions, and Lisa knows she has lost again.

“Not yet.” She swallows a mouthful of ice-cream, and the conversation ends there, never resolved.

After that disastrous dessert, Lisa goes upstairs to her room. The leaflets from various law schools litter her desk. She frowns at the sight, collects them all and shoves them to the bottom of her desk's drawer.

A frustrated sigh escapes her lips, and she runs her slender fingers through her hair. She wants to go out and play soccer with Chaeyoung and Jisoo, but she knows it's not an option.

Her father let her join the soccer team provided she keeps straight As at school. And so, reluctantly, she takes out her books from the backpack that lies stranded beside the bed.

As she reads about battles that changed the world's history and cracks her brain over intricate mathematical equations, her feet don't stop playing with the ball that she has hidden under the desk.
 

* * *
 

“How was your weekend?” Lisa asks, passing the ball to Chaeyoung as they leisurely stroll toward the school building.

“Ugh, don't ask,” Chaeyoung groans. “We visited my aunt on Sunday, and I had to keep company to her two little boys.”

“I thought you liked children?”

“Children? Yes. Spawns of Satan? Not so much.”

“Was it that bad?” Lisa chuckles, but Chaeyoung looks rather despondent as she replies:

“One of them flung a cat at me, and I almost knocked an urn with my grandpa's ashes off the mantelpiece as I tried hard to keep Mr. Meowgi's claws away from my precious face.”

Lisa doubles over with laughter, imagining the situation, and her kick goes terribly off target. The ball bounces down the schoolyard with Lisa chasing after it. It stops right around the school's corner, under a pair of heavy, black boots.

Slowly, Lisa lifts her gaze from the ball and up the bare legs exposed by a short skirt, takes note of the leather jacket and finally meets a pair of cold, but soft around the edges, eyes.

Lisa stops breathing. Kim Jennie stops chewing her gum.

The sun rays feel warmer than they should at such early hour and the morning air smells of sweet perfumes. A dizzying combination that roots Lisa in her place and bombards her mind with dozens of thoughts.

(What is she doing here?

Why won't she say anything?

Why is she looking at me like this?

Oh god, what are these perfumes?)

The onslaught of questions continues until she hears faint sobs in the distance.

Her gaze flicks over Jennie's shoulder.

Several girls stand in a circle; one of them throws a punch. Lisa can't see whether it lands, but it must have because the whimpers intensify.

Her gaze drops back to Jennie when the girl takes a step closer to her, crossing arms at her chest. An unspoken threat flashes in her eyes as she lifts her chin defiantly.

And finally Lisa gets it; Jennie is keeping watch.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, Lisa knows this should be the moment when she slowly backs away, arms raised in surrender. But for some reason, her body wants to do the exact opposite and make a step forward.

She isn't sure whether it's because the whimpers increase in volume and clearly someone needs her help, or maybe she just selfishly wants to drown in the vanilla scent that lingers in the air, pulling at her senses.

(She's almost sure it's the latter when Jennie's tongue darts across her bottom lip in a quick swipe.)

Luckily, Chaeyoung shows just in time to save her from whatever stupid decision she is about to make. The girl scoops the ball from the ground and grabbing Lisa by her arm, drags her away to safety.

Stumbling on her weak legs, Lisa looks over her shoulder.

“Maybe we should tell someone,” she mumbles.

Chaeyoung stops and swivels around, giving Lisa a hard flick against her forehead.

“Are you crazy?”

Lisa rubs the sore spot. “No, but--”

“Goddammit Lisa,” Chaeyoung cuts her off, features sharpening in seriousnesses. “I get it, trust me. But keep in mind that the moment you snitch on Jimin, it's the moment your goes flying out of this school. And it doesn't matter how many trophies you've won for this school. It's over for you. The end. Finto. Owari. Capisch?”

Lisa lowers her gaze and vents her frustration on a pebble, kicking it across the schoolyard.

(It shouldn't be like this.

But Chaeyoung is right.

No one can mess with Jimin.)

The school's doorbell signals the beginning of the classes, but neither of them moves, until Chaeyoung throws the ball at Lisa who promptly catches it.

“You know we can't lose our Champ, right?” She reaches out to ruffle her blond hair.

Lisa scrunches her face, giggling.

“Come on,” Chaeyoung says and drapes her arm over Lisa's shoulder. “Let's just forget about them. We're already late for class.”

And together they jog towards the school.

* * *
 

Jennie can still feel the eyes watching her when she marches towards her friends. They leave a splotchy trail of heat down her chest and twist her stomach into knots. It's absolutely disgusting.

Pushing aside Seolhyun and Chanmi, she steps into the circle and without hesitation kicks the sobbing girl's backpack, sending it flying off her shoulder. Not losing her momentum, she grabs onto the girl's collar and forces her to look her in the eye.

“Don't you dare looking at him like that again, understood?” she mutters through gritted teeth and on the behalf of Jimin.

(No girl is allowed to look at Jimin's Junhoe.)

The girl nods, whimpering like a cornered animal. And something inside Jennie falters, her palm opening to free the girl.

“Let's go,” Jennie says as she turns to leave. “I think someone saw us.”

(Lisa.

That's her name.

But Jennie avoids mentioning it even in her own thoughts.)

“But we've just started,” Chanmi whines, and Jennie resists the intense urge to punch her.

“Let's go,” Jimin states in her flat yet cold tone that doesn't fail to send an unpleasant chill down Jennie's spine. “I presume Jennie has taught the girl her lesson. No need to push our luck.”

“Oh please, it's not like anyone will tell on us,” Chanmi continues, but her resolve thaws under Jimin's hard look.

The younger girl lowers her gaze meekly and follows her friends as they start walking away.

Mina, however, stays behind for a minute longer.

“Say cheese.”

She giggles and takes a photo of the sobbing girl with her phone.
 

* * *
 

Jennie cannot believe this is happening to her.

Unfortunately, the laughter behind her back feels all to real. She shields her flushed face with her palm, glaring at Bobby who kneels before her, blocking the entrance to her class.

“Stand up,” she hisses, but the boy shakes his head vehemently.

“Not until you forgive me.”

Losing her patience, Jennie grabs her boyfriend by his hoodie, hoisting him to his feet and drags him to the women's conveniently unoccupied bathroom.

“Look, Jen. I'm really sorry, okay?” Bobby continues his heartfelt apology. “I acted like a douche.”

Jennie shakes her head, arms folded at her chest as she glares at the boy, thinking what she should do with him.

“Why would you even suggest such game, huh?” she asks, irritated.

“I was drunk, babe. I wasn't thinking straight.”

“Ugh,” Jennie winces at his unfortunate word usage and leans against the sink.

“What?” Bobby seems confused by her reaction, and rightly so.

“Nothing,” she mumbles, directing her gaze to the dirty tiled floor under her feet.

Bobby comes up to her and bends a little to look into her eyes.

“So are we cool?”

Jennie bites the inside of her cheek.

She could end this right here, right now. It's a feeble reason, but they are just kids in high-school, and she has seen couples breaking up over dumber things.

But she knows she can't do it.

She needs Bobby.

Desperately.

“Fine, we're cool,” she says, and Bobby's lips break into a goofy smile.

It's infectious, really. And it may just be her favorite part about him. But then he goes in for a kiss, and though it's short and sweet, it robs Jennie of all the comfort his smile gave her.

She wishes he would stop running his coarse palm up and down her bare arm, but remains silent about it, smile not faltering.

“Wanna drop by my place after school? My parents are out of the city,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Jennie resists a sudden urge to cringe.

“Sorry, I can't,” she says. “I'm busy today.”

Bobby's shoulders slump and he steps aside. “With what?”

“I have to help my mother prepare a birthday party for my aunt.”

(She has learned to always have an excuse prepared in advance to sound more believable.)

“So? Just sneak from the house like you always do.” Bobby's voice is full of reproach and so are his sharp features pulled in a frown.

A tiny voice at the back of Jennie's mind reminds her that excuses won't work forever.

“I really can't,” she moves closer to him, looking him in the eye as she promises in a husky murmur, “We'll meet next time, okay?”

But Bobby's expressions remains sour.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, shoving hands to the pockets of his hoodie, and leaves the bathroom.
 

* * *
 

After her conversation with Bobby, Jennie is plagued by restlessness and doubts.

She's running out of excuses. He's clearly running out of patience. And Chanmi isn't helping with her constant questioning about whether they've finally 'done the deed', as she puts it - a strangely subtle term for someone as crude as her.

Jennie swears the girl hates her guts and tolerates her only because she wants to stay loyal to Jimin, which is somewhat disturbing.

(Sometimes Jennie thinks that if Jimin told her to jump off a cliff, the younger girl wouldn't think twice before leaping to her certain death.)

To make matters even worse, Jennie's P.E classes take place during the soccer team's practice time. Meaning, she has to suffer through an hour of listening to the hollow thuds the ball makes every time a player kicks it.

The sound echoes painfully in her head, keeping her senses on high alert.

That is probably why she notices the ball flying straight at Jimin even before she hears the blond girl shout a loud 'watch out!'. And then it's like her body moves on an autopilot. There's no thinking process. No hesitation. No fear. Just pure instinct that controls her every action.

In an instant, she's in front of Jimin, stops the ball with her chest and kicks it back to the blonde, who barely manages to catch it with her both hands.

Heavy silence hangs above the school field as everyone stares at Jennie. Stunned. Confused. Some even impressed (the gaping blonde most surely).

“Nice kick,” Jimin drones from behind her and the gravity of the situation finally registers in Jennie's mind.

Heart hammering against her ribcage, she breaks into a cold sweat.

(Exposed...

She has been exposed...)

But then there are those dark eyes shining with unabashed amazement, and somehow, Jennie finds comfort in them.

“Awfully off target though,” she mutters and glances over her shoulder at Jimin. “I was aiming for her head.”

Jimin bears her pearl white teeth in a smirk. “Of course,” she asserts curtly and then it's her turn to do a long jump.

The soccer team resumes her practice, but Jennie cannot shake the feeling of being observed, yet again.
 

* * *
 

“Okay, now this one is for Lisa,” Yuna clears , a glossy teenage magazine spread before her on the cafeteria table. “Aries: don't be afraid of making bold moves. The outcome may be surprisingly positive.”

“That's it?” Chaeyoung an eyebrow, a spoon with pudding stopping mid-way to .

Yuna nods, unperturbed by her friend's skepticism.

“I could write those things myself, you know?” Chaeyoung snorts, amused. “Like Scorpio: don't be afraid to challenge yourself. It's a great day to start a new hobby.”

“I don't know.” Yuna shrugs. “Usually, it's pretty accurate when it comes to my sign. What about you, Lisa? Lisa? Earth to Lisaaa.”

It's only when Yuna waves her hand in front of the blonde's eyes that the girl finally registers someone calling for her attention.

“Hm? Were you saying something?”

“And here I thought only Jisoo was sleeping at this table,” Chaeyoung chuckles, pointing her chin towards their dozing friend. “Have you spent the whole night playing Overwatch as well?”

“What? No,” Lisa mutters distractedly, eyes fixed on the table beside the window where Jennie sits with her friends and her boyfriend.

“Gee, your horoscope should read something along the lines: stay focused and don't ignore your friends, unless you want to hurt their feelings,” Chaeyoung snarks, but Lisa tunes her out because Jennie is leaving her table and she sees her chance in that.

“I'll be right back,” she says as she hurriedly stands up from her chair.

“Where are you going? Hey! Wait! Lisa!”

Ignoring Chaeyoung's calls for her, Lisa makes her way through the bustling cafeteria, eyes trained on Jennie's small frame. Once they find themselves on the empty corridor, Lisa runs up to the girl and gently touches her shoulder.

Jennie swivels around, almost stumbling, and spears Lisa with a questioning glare.

For a moment, the blonde is left speechless, Jennie's eyes are intense enough to knock the air out of her lungs, and she starts to wonder just what the hell she is doing.

But then there's again that nervous tongue darting to wet Jennie's lips, working like a switch that grounds Lisa back into reality.

“Uhm, so that kick back then was pretty awesome,” Lisa says, cringing at how lame she sounds, but continues anyway. “We're looking for a temporary midfielder, since Hyunjin twisted her ankle and Siyeon is down with a stomach flu. Anyway, I thought that maybe you'd like to give it a go in the tryouts, tomorrow?”

Jennie blinks, one eyebrow arching slightly.

“Get lost,” she says, voice strained, simmering with barely held back emotions whose nature Lisa can't quite define.

It may be rage, but something tells Lisa it's not just that.

“But--”

“Get lost before I lose my patience,” the brunette cuts her off sharply, and Lisa notices how her fists tremble by her sides.

“Come on,” Chaeyoung chimes in from behind Lisa and taking her by the shoulders, leads her around the nearest corner.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, Lisa?!” Chaeyoung scolds her in a stern whisper. “It's the second time I save your today. I swear to god I'm not doing this again. Do you really hate your face so much that you want Kim Jennie to remodel it for you with her fists, hm?”

“She wouldn't do that,” Lisa retorts, slowly getting fed up with her friend's constant lecturing. “Stop talking like you know her.”

Chaeyoung makes a gesture with her hands as if she wants to strangle Lisa but in the end decides against it. She lowers her palms and exhales noisily through her nose.

“What did you want from her, anyway?” she asks in a much calmer tone.

“You saw what she did during the practice, right? Someone who had never played soccer before wouldn't perform such a kick,” Lisa reasons, gushing with a grin. “So I just thought she could be our midfielder.”

“Oh yeah, that makes total sense,” Chaeyoung says, but Lisa can tell she's being sarcastic and her next words confirm her suspicions. “Except it doesn't because she ing hates soccer!”

A momentary silence falls between them as Lisa cannot find a satisfactory come back.

Chaeyoung's gaze softens during that pause and she's first to speak up:

“Look, I get it, she's hot.”

Lisa rolls her eyes, flushing slightly. "It's not like that.”

(It really isn't.

Or maybe it is?

She doesn't know anymore.)

“Hey, you can't fool me, Champ.” Chaeyoung nudges her shoulder playfully. “I know you since kindergarten, and I know it may be shocking but to tell you the truth, I knew you were gay since like sixth grade. Those looks you were giving Yeri? Yeah, not the most subtle ones.”

Lisa lets out a defeated groan, closing her eyes as she leans against the wall behind her.

“But Jennie? She's a case of real bad trouble. You should stay away from her for your own good,” Chaeyoung says with a distinct note of sympathy in her voice.

Lisa looks at her, lips pursed in a sad pout.

“Ohhh, don't give me that sad face, Champ. We gonna find you a girl. A bad one that's actually nice. Since apparently, that's your type.”

Lisa barks out a chuckle but doesn't protest.

“And we need to tell Yuna to stop reading those stupid horoscopes,” Chaeyoung adds and they both laugh at that.

(Lisa doesn't mention that she wasn't listening when Yuna was reading her horoscope.)
 

* * *
 

Jennie barges into her own room, drops the backpack by the door, and throws herself onto the bed. A string of curses leaving , muffled by the pillow.

She hates this day, hates her life, but most importantly, she hates her...

(For making her kick that ing ball.

For asking that idiotic question.

And for leaving her mind reeling with disgust.)

She begins to regret that she refused to go to Bobby's place. Maybe he would actually make her feel a bit better about herself.

(A bit more normal...)

But at the same time, she knows he wouldn't be able to do it. There's only one thing that could lift her mood, right now. It lies right under her bed in the yellow box, which reminds her that she needs to get rid of it.

She jumps off the bed and takes the box from underneath it. Carefully, she makes her way down the stairs so as not to alarm her parents, who are watching some soccer match on the TV.

Outside the house, she drops the box into a trash bin. However, a single photo flies out of it and she catches it on instinct, immediately regretting that one careless action.

There are eleven girls smiling at her, tired but proud as they stand beside a golden trophy. She turns the photo around and stares at the elegant letters saying:

New Zealand's Junior Soccer Champions

And in the bottom right corner a slightly smaller:

For Jennie, the MVP of my life
Your Cap
04.06.2016, Wellington

Jennie covers , stifles a sob that shakes her entire body and sits down on a curb. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks, wetting the concrete under her feet, as she no longer finds strength inside her to fight them.

The memories of happy days when everything was so easy and simple flood her mind, sending ripples of guilt and regret through her heart.

(She misses them.

She misses playing.

And although she doesn't want to admit, she misses her as well.)

She doesn't know how long has she has been crying, but when she stops and stands up from the curb, the sun is already sinking behind the horizon and the cold breeze leaves a trail of goosebumps down her bare arms.

She comes up to the trash bin, takes out the yellow box and brings it back to her room. Lifting its lid, she reveals dozens of gold medals and a stash of photos. Beneath it, lies a deflated, black and white ball.

Gingerly, Jennie takes the ball out of the box and goes to the garage where she pumps it back to its orb shape.

Two streets away from her home, there's an abandoned old tennis court. One of the courts has a wall for practicing squash. It's a perfect place, quiet and secluded.

She places the ball on the concrete and takes a few steps back. Her heart thundering in her chest like that time during the finals in 2011 when she had to score the last penalty so that her team would win the match.

It's ridiculous and pathetic because here, it's just a stupid wall and an empty tennis court, but she tunes out all those negative thoughts, jogs to the ball, swings her leg and kicks it. And as the ball bounces back, she kicks it again. And again, and again.

And with each kick, she feels something break inside her. With each kick, the smile on her face grows wider. Jimin. Chanmi. Bobby. They all cease to exist. No one controls her. She's free, again.

High on adrenaline, Jennie puts a bit too much strength into her kick and the ball escapes her. She turns around to run after it but freezes in place, smile fading from her lips.

Standing silently with a ball in her hands, Lisa blinks her large eyes at Jennie for the third time this day...

TBC
 

Author's Note: This turned out longer than I expected, but I hope it's okay. And from now, there's gonna be more JenLisa moments ;) Thank you for all the subs and comments! I cherish them all so keep them coming! And I'll be back real soon with the first chapter of my new story titled Helter Skelter. So stay tuned for more JenLisa! :D