The Underbelly

The space beneath the metal bleachers was known as "The Underbelly." It was a lattice-work of steel beams, gravel, and discarded candy wrappers. It was dark, dusty, and smelled of old popcorn and secrets.

Lina walked softly, her sneakers crunching quietly on the gravel. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She didn't know what her plan was. Was she going to catch them in the act? Take a picture? Just yell at them until she felt better?

She reached the corrugated metal wall of the main storage shed. It was a windowless room used to store tackling dummies, spare goal post pads, and the lawn mower. It was cramped, hot, and private.

She stopped at the heavy metal door. It was closed.

Lina pressed her ear to the cold steel.

At first, she heard nothing but the blood rushing in her ears. Then, the sounds filtered through.

Rustling. A lot of shuffling, like bodies moving in the dirt.

"Shh, stop moving," Ty’s voice came through, low and strained. "You're making it worse."

"It's slippery," Vanessa’s voice whined. "Ugh, Ty, it's getting all over me."

Lina squeezed her eyes shut. The image was vivid and nauseating. She gripped the handle of the door.

"Just hold still," Ty commanded, breathless. "God, you're wiggly. Easy... easy..."

A high-pitched whimper echoed from inside.

"Oh, you like that?" Vanessa cooed. "Yeah, that's the spot."

Lina felt the bile rise in her throat. It was obscene. They were doing *that* right here, twenty feet away from where she worked every day. It was the ultimate disrespect.

"Gentle, Vanessa," Ty rasped. "Don't squeeze so hard. You're going to hurt him."

*Hurt him?*

Lina’s eyes snapped open. The jealousy that had been simmering boiled over into pure, white-hot indignation. They were reckless. They were gross. And she was done.

She gripped the handle with both hands. It was unlocked.

"I am quitting this team!" Lina yelled at the metal door.

She yanked it open, swinging it wide to expose the sordid affair to the fading daylight.

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