Coach Miller was indeed dressed as pink as anyone has ever been dressed. He basically looked like a picture Jon had seen once of Jackie Kennedy, except even more pink, if that was possible. Jon had no idea what was going on when he got to practice - he hadn't played soccer since he was five when his parents had forced him to go through at least one year of it.
"Alright, listen up!" he shouted. His pink heels were sinking into the field, but he didn't seem to acknowledge it at all. "We know how October goes - it's why we frontload so much of our schedule in September. But we've still got a couple games this month, so we're still going to prep and play as best we can. You can sit out any practice that you've got a reasonable clothing-related excuse, but I still expect you to be here watching and preparing, alright? And I won't force any of you to play this Friday or the next few weeks, but I hope you remember the commitment you made to this team and this school, knowing that we play through October. Now how many of you need to sit out today?"
Jon raised his hand, along with four other guys. Two were also in heels, one was in a full diving suit with flippers and an oxygen tank, and one was in a skirt that barely covered his ass.
"Fine. You five watch from the bleachers, and stretch and stay limber at the very least. Everyone else, two laps to start, let's go!"
Practice consisted of drills that Jon had no memory of. If he was suddenly on the team, he might need to use the rock to help him tap into that, or either hope that he now had some skill that would come to him once he was on the field. Or he could try to change reality so he was no longer on the team, too, right? He shook his head. Every wish with the rock was just warping things more and more beyond what he would expect the scope to be.
Finally, practice ended. Coach Miller clapped his hand on Jon's shoulder. "Hope you get a better closet tomorrow, Jon. We need our starting defense ready and able for the game against Oakmont on Friday."
Jon's eyes widened. Starting defense? "Um, right, coach."
Jon poked at a ball with his heeled foot before starting home. Maybe I will have to use a wish to learn soccer, after all.
