On the pitch, though, the disguise melted away. Viola’s feet remembered every drill, every fake, every through-ball her father had taught her before he decided “girls should play something prettier, like tennis.” She was faster than Cornwall’s star forward, Duke, and smarter than their captain, Malcolm. Within two weeks, “Sebastian” was the team’s secret weapon.
She peeled off the fake sideburns. They came away with a wet tear of spirit gum. “There is no Sebastian,” she said, loud enough for the bleachers to hear. “There’s only me. Viola. And I’m better than half your starting lineup. Ask your goalie.” she's the man 2006
Silence. Then Malcolm laughed. “A girl? We’ve been taking plays from a girl?” On the pitch, though, the disguise melted away
Monica stopped mid-sprint. “Viola?”
She smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it was her own smile. “Watch closely.” She peeled off the fake sideburns
“Spike thinks you’re sad,” Paul said.
“Substitution!” Coach bellowed, but Viola stood frozen.
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