PrettyTOUGH

by Nicole Leigh Shepherd

  Charlie hated the human wall. What could be scarier than standing directly in front of a ball that was about to be kicked right toward your face? It was difficult not to close your eyes or flinch or move… especially when a ball was hurling toward you.

  And after all, her boobs were finally growing. Charlie chuckled to herself—all she needed now was for both of them to be flattened… or worse, just one of them!

  The Andover player ran at the ball. She kicked!

  The ball sailed high over Charlie’s head. Andover had managed to avoid the wall completely. Inside the goal, Darcy dove, but the ball whizzed past her. It hit the back of the net. They’d scored.

  “Crap,” Charlie said, a little too loudly.

  “Good try, Darce,” Krista encouraged.

  With the game tied up two–two and one minute to go, it looked like the game would go into sudden death overtime, where the first team to score would win. Charlie ran hard in the last minute, desperate to avoid sudden death. She got one shot on goal, but it was rushed. It bounced off the post.

  The whistle blew. Sudden death.

  Sudden death was as scary as it sounded. One goal and the game was over.

  And now, most of the girls were exhausted from playing a full game. Somehow, they’d have to stay strong.

  Martie subbed Karen in for Heather and tried to sub Zaida in for Charlie, but Charlie insisted she was fine. She wasn’t coming out of the game now. Zaida went in for Ruthie instead.

  Beachwood played amazingly well—the ball barely made it down to their side of the field. They took at least four shots on goal—two attempted by Charlie—but the Andover goalie was a maniac. She caught balls no human being should have been able to get her hands on. Beachwood was shut out. At the end of sudden death, no one had scored. Which meant one thing—

  “A shoot-out?” Charlie said in disbelief.

  They hadn’t had a shoot-out all season. She couldn’t believe the irony. Here she and Krista had been struggling all year long to become teammates, and now their victory was going to come down to something that couldn’t be more individual.

  It would be kicker versus goalie on the field alone, under the glaring spotlight. And Noah had worked out the lineup. Jamie, Jen, Carla, Charlie, and Krista.

  The shoot-out started with five players from each side shooting at goal one at a time. Whichever team scored the most during the shoot-out would win.

  The goalie had to guess which side of the net the kicker would aim for—and she could only jump in one direction. If she jumped to the wrong side, there was no time to correct and go the other way. The pressure was enormous.

  An Andover kicker went first, and Darcy chose to dive right. Lucky for her, so did the kicker. Darcy stopped the ball. On the Beachwood bench, the team went crazy.

  Jamie was up first for B-dub. She took a deep breath. She was known for being a great kicker. She planned to boot the ball into the left-bottom corner. She ran, kicked—and somehow overshot. The ball skimmed the post and rebounded off it. Their goalie didn’t have to do a thing to deflect it.

  Jamie kicked the dirt in frustration. As she headed for the bench, the other girls patted her on the back, comforting her. She sat down and buried her head in her hands.

  Another Andover kicker took a shot. This time, Darcy wasn’t so lucky. She jumped right again, but the kicker had faked and placed the ball to the left. It sailed past Darcy into the net. Andover was up one–nothing.

  Jen was next. She took a powerful shot, but their goalie dove and caught it. Jen looked near tears as she joined Jamie on the bench. Krista and Charlie exchanged a nervous look. Beachwood still had zero to Andover’s one.

  Andover was up again and took a shot that Darcy caught easily.

  Carla jumped up and down nervously. She was next.

  “Come on, Carla,” Krista encouraged.

  Carla took a deep breath and approached the ball. BAM! She nailed it—right into the back of the net. Cheers exploded, her mom’s the loudest of all. Carla beamed and gave her mother the tiniest of waves.

  The score was now one–one.

  Andover’s next kicker knocked the ball into the corner, so close to the post that Darcy actually collided with it when she jumped. She blocked the shot but collapsed onto the ground. Medics rushed onto the field to help her.

  A few minutes later Zaida, the second-string goalie, nervously replaced her.

  If Beachwood was going to win, either Krista or Charlie was going to have to make her goal, and Zaida couldn’t let Andover score another.

  Charlie was up next. All eyes were on her. In that moment, it was as if her entire year flashed before her eyes—Martie finding her surfing on the beach, the pickup game in Carla’s neighborhood, Carla showing up in the Town Car, hell week and hell month and seeing her name on the list for the team, dancing with Bryan, that great goal she’d scored against Curtis, sitting with her father talking about soccer plays, getting a B-plus, laughing with Carla and Pickle so hard that her sides hurt, and peeling back Krista’s eyelids.

  It had all added up to this moment.

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies. She had to make it. She had to score. If she didn’t, their season would be over. She’d worked too hard for it to end this way—with her losing the game for her team. Besides, she had two more years to play, but if they lost, this would be Krista’s last game.

  It had to be a win—for Krista.

  As if in slow motion, Charlie willed herself to move. Her foot connected with the ball.

  Boom! The ball sailed up and arced gracefully toward the net.

  Charlie watched the Andover goalie dive… and catch it with both hands.

  Charlie fell to her knees. She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t scored. It was her moment and she blew it. All this season, she had been Beachwood’s top scorer and now, when it mattered most, she’d blown it.

  She took a seat on the bench and buried her head in her hands. She could feel the encouraging pats of her teammates on her back, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. She’d failed. She’d let everyone down.

  She heard more cheers around her, which meant Zaida had deflected Andover’s final shot. Krista was the last to go. Only she could win the game for Beachwood.

  Charlie couldn’t watch. She closed her eyes tightly. She folded her hands together and touched her fingertips to her lips. She’d never been one to pray, but now all she could think was, Please, please, please…

  She imagined only Krista and the Andover goalie left on the field. Charlie held her breath and waited.

  BAM! She heard Krista’s foot connect with the ball. Charlie looked up. She saw Krista on her knees, on the ground, looking up at the sky.

  Oh no, thought Charlie. No!

  But suddenly, her teammates were pushing into her, everyone trampling past everyone else to get out on the field. They were laughing and cheering and screaming….

  Charlie looked at the Andover bench. The girls were crying. It could only mean one thing.

  They’d won!

  Charlie raced past everyone, jumping over the pile of girls onto her sister.

  “We won!” she screamed “We won!”

  Martie and Noah joined the pile. Everyone was laughing and crying and waving to the adoring crowd. Charlie rolled out of the pile, still on her back, and looked up at the night sky. All she could see were the bright lights that shone down on them.

  As parents and friends made their way onto the field to congratulate the winning team, the girls hoisted Krista onto their shoulders. Charlie looked up from her spot on the ground. The lights shone brightly down on Krista.

  Charlie watched as if she was seeing a scene from a movie, not something that was actually happening.

  Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Krista smiled and laughed and tried not to fall off Jamie and Zaida’s shoulders. She gave a huge wave to all the fans. Charlie felt a wave of pride. This wasn’t just Krista’s moment. It was hers too. It was all of theirs. Th
at’s what she finally understood.

  After the game, once most of the people had left and parents were waiting by their cars, the girls were gathering their belongings from the sidelines.

  Charlie approached Bryan.

  “Thanks for coming all the way out to watch,” she said shyly. “Krista’s great, huh?”

  Bryan nodded. “You’re great too.”

  Charlie blushed. Suddenly, Krista called to her.

  “Hey, Charlie! A bunch of the Beachwood boys got a suite at the Marriott. I think they’re having a party for us…. Martie said we could go if we didn’t stay out late.”

  Charlie remembered her fantasy—the one where Krista invited her to a party, wanted to hang out with her, asked her to come as if she belonged.

  Now it was actually happening.

  “Come on, Charlie,” Krista called. “The bus is leaving.”

  Charlie turned back to Bryan. “You should come too,” she said, hardly believing the bold words were coming out of her mouth.

  He grinned. “Thanks. I’ll see you there.”

  Charlie said good-bye and made her way to the bus in the parking lot.

  As she took a seat, she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. This was what she’d always dreamed of, and now it was real.

  It was as if it was all supposed to happen this way. All the ups and downs, all the fights and struggles… it somehow made the victory even sweeter.

  Charlie might have wished things were a little different. Like, she wouldn’t have minded making that last goal or having a name like Britney or Ashley.

  But really, when all was said and done, who was Charlie Brown to argue with destiny?

  Acknowledgments:

  Thanks go to the many individuals who helped make this book a reality. First, to Jane Schonberger and George Morency whose lives are committed to empowering young women through sports. Thanks also to Carole Rosen and to Andy Barzvi and Jennifer Joel of ICM who were early supporters of Pretty Tough and extremely helpful in bringing the book to fruition. Editor extraordinaire Kristen Petit provided insightful notes, support, and guidance along the way, and Coach Stacy provided access to the high school soccer field as well as a glimpse into the hearts and minds of female athletes.

  Thank you also to the 418+1 girls—jen, jamie, erica, buffi, fran, ruth, heather, julie, karen, and elizabeth—who I couldn’t have written this without. And thanks to Nate and most importantly, my parents, Bob and Mary, and my sister, Kate.

  Pretty Tough is … getting up early for practice and staying late to finish a game. It’s the way you think, the way you talk, the way you act, and the way you walk. It’s an attitude. It’s a motto for those who can see it through. It’s the way you play and the work you do. It’s never backing down. It’s never letting up. Pretty Tough is busting stereotypes, reaching new dimensions, and pushing limits for the love of the game.