by Alex Morgan
Could the winter league tear the Kicks apart?
Dad picked Jessi and me up after school to take us to practice. We didn’t run to the car like we had on the first day. In fact, we both walked extra slowly.
“I hope you two look more alive on the field today than you do right now,” Dad joked.
“I don’t think I’ll ever look alive enough for Coach Darby,” I said in my most miserable voice.
When we got to the field, I saw that my shoelace was loose. I put my foot up on the bench so I could relace my shoe and tie it.
“On the bench again, Devin?” a voice behind me asked. “I guess you really like it there.”
I didn’t have to turn around to know who was taunting me—it was Jamie. I could feel my face turn red, so I just ignored her. She walked off, laughing, and Jessi sidled up to me.
“Are you kidding me?” Jessi said. “You want me to say something to her?”
“Forget it,” I said. “Jamie’s just trying to psych me out. That’s what she does. Which is a pretty stupid thing to do to someone on your own team, but that’s Jamie.”
Jessi just frowned, and I could tell she was really angry.
“Listen, maybe she’s right,” I said. “If I want to get off the bench, then I need to start playing like Coach wants me to.”
Jessi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“If Darby wants me to be more aggressive, I’ll be more aggressive,” I said.
“You mean, like pushing and shoving on the field?” Jessi asked.
“No. But I can be more aggressive about going after the ball. I can show Coach I really want to play and score,” I said. I was not going to sit on the bench again next game. No way.
As we got in line to warm up, I saw a group of girls walking onto the field in yellow scrimmage jerseys.
“We’re scrimmaging with the Giraffes today,” Coach Darby announced. “Coach Perez and I are old friends, and we decided this would be a good chance to give you girls some extra practice.”
Coach Perez was a tall, thin guy with a black crew cut and a friendly smile.
“He looks too nice to be Coach Darby’s friend,” Jessi whispered to me. I started to laugh, but then covered it up when Coach Darby marched toward us.
“Devin, Jessi, midfield center,” she called out, to my surprise.
I jogged out into the midfield, grateful to get a chance to play. I knew it was only a scrimmage and didn’t count toward our standings, but it felt like a real game. I knew if I had any chance of playing in our next real game, I’d have to impress Coach Darby. So at kickoff, when one of the Giraffes came dribbling down the field toward our goal, I charged toward her like a mad bull.
Normally I might have waited until she kicked the ball out in front of her, but she was keeping the ball pretty close to her as she dribbled. I could see the sweat on her forehead as I ran up to her, blocking her path to the goal. She banked to the right, and I moved with her, kicking the ball right out from under her feet. Then we both scrambled for it, but I got to it first.
Jamie was open about ten feet away from me, so I swiftly kicked it to her, and she charged toward the goal with it. My heart was pounding. I had made a successful pass! This was exactly what I loved about the game—that rush you feel when you get the ball and things work out like they’re supposed to.
Coach Darby kept me in midfield for the second quarter. I tried to steal the ball from the Giraffes every time I could.
“Nice job, Devin!” Coach Darby called out, and I thought maybe she was talking to some other Devin on the field. But of course, there was only me.
Toward the end of the second quarter, one of the Giraffes dribbled the ball toward me. One of her teammates was right next to her. To get the ball I’d have to get between them.
Normally I would have gone around them, but this time I sort of squeezed my way between them, and I felt my elbow accidentally make contact with the side of one of the Giraffes. Then I heard Coach Perez’s whistle blow. Play stopped, and he held up a yellow card. Then he pointed at me.
“Me?” I asked, and he nodded.
I jogged across the field to him, embarrassed. I felt like everybody was staring at me. I had never received a yellow card before.
“This is for elbowing your opponent,” he told me. “One more, and you’re out. Got it?”
I felt my face heat up. Of course I hadn’t meant to elbow her. But it didn’t matter—I had anyway. “I got it!” I promised sheepishly. And then I jogged back onto the field.
Coach Darby came toward me, and for a second I wondered if she was angry. But instead she said, “Don’t let it get you down, Devin. It’s okay to get a yellow card once in a while. It’s a sign that you’re playing to win.”
A sign that you’re playing to win. I wasn’t sure if I agreed with that, but in that moment she honestly made me feel better. And she kept me in for the whole game!
The game ended in a tie, 2–2, and since it was just a scrimmage, we didn’t do any overtime. I was standing next to Kelly when the game ended, and I went to give her a high five, but she just rolled her eyes.
“It was a tie. Why are we celebrating?” she asked.
I couldn’t believe it. How about high-fiving for a good game? Then Mirabelle walked up to me with her right palm raised.
“Up here,” she said with a smile, and I slapped her palm.
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s hard to find anyone with team spirit around here.”
Jessi ran up to us. “Tell me about it. It’s really getting me down.”
Mirabelle nodded. “It’s kind of like how I felt when I left the Kicks to go to Pinewood,” she said. “It’s a really competitive atmosphere over there. I felt like a little fish in a big pond.”
“Exactly,” I said. “It’s really hard to fit in on the Griffons.”
“You did a pretty good job today,” Jessi said. “Yellow card? Should we call you Bruiser now?”
“That was an accident,” I protested, but as the words left my mouth, I wondered if they were true. I’d wanted to get to that ball, no matter what it took. I’d known I would have to smash my way between those two players to get it. That sounded like rough play to me.
“Well, I ended up finding my place on Pinewood,” Mirabelle said. “Maybe we just all need more time to gel, you know?”
Then she glanced toward the parking lot. “See you later.”
As Mirabelle left, Jessi and I looked at each other.
“I really like the new Mirabelle,” I said.
“Well, people change,” Jessi said, and then she looked me directly in the eyes, like she was talking about me too.
“I’m not changing!” I insisted. “I’m just trying to be a better player.”
“Whatever you say, Bruiser,” Jessi said, and then she laughed, and I knew she was teasing, and I laughed too. It felt like a relief.
Then my dad pulled up in the Marshmallow.
“How did it go?” he asked, and then he noticed the Giraffes. “Did you guys have a scrimmage?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “We tied. I didn’t score any goals, but I made some good passes.”
“Great, Devin,” Dad said. “It sounds like things are working out.”
“I guess,” I replied.
I might have been playing the way Coach wanted me to on the field, but our team hadn’t won a game yet. And we never would, as long as everybody was acting like it was every player for herself.
I was determined to fix the problem. The only question was—how?
My problem-solving skills got a great workout the next day in school. I aced my algebra test and totally owned a surprise quiz in science. So figuring out how to fit in on the Griffons should have been a breeze, right?
My mood was pretty good when I left science class after the pop quiz. It got
even better when Steven came up to me in the hall afterward. He walked over with that awesome smile of his. I know it sounds dorky, but I got this warm and fuzzy feeling whenever he smiled at me. I returned the smile, happy that my day was going so great. Usually I felt so in control on the soccer field, like I was in the flow. But I hadn’t been feeling that lately, so a day of kicking butt at school helped me regain some confidence.
Then it was time for lunch, and my good mood took a hit. Emma sat with the Tree Huggers, and Zoe with her fellow Gators again. The bright side was that Jessi and I had a lot of laughs as she showed off her new Coach Darby impersonation. Not only did Jessi nail that barking voice, but she narrowed her eyes in a perfect imitation of Coach’s hawk-like stare. I laughed so hard, I almost spit coconut water (thanks, Mom!) out of my nose.
I saw Steven again seventh period, when we had World Civ together—and another quiz. When that class ended, we walked to English class. “How’d you do on the quiz?” he asked me.
“Aced it,” I announced proudly.
Steven groaned. “I wish I could say the same. The last time we had a surprise quiz, it was an open book. Mr. Emmet is getting tough.”
“He did say there might be a quiz on the chapter last week,” I reminded him.
“A whole week ago? How am I supposed to remember that?” Steven asked.
I laughed. “There’s this great invention called a notebook and a pen. You can write stuff down.”
He pretended to look surprised. “What will they think of next?” he joked. “But seriously, I’ve been busy with the boys’ winter league.”
I nodded. “Yeah, the girls’ winter league has been keeping me on my toes too.”
“How’s Emma doing?” Steven asked. “She seemed really upset at the mall.”
I shook my head. “You know Emma. She doesn’t stay down long. It’s just been weird. Emma’s not playing at all, and Zoe’s on a different team.” I sighed. “It’s just not the same. I miss the Kicks.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Steven said. His smile had vanished. “My good friend Jake didn’t make the league at all either. The competition was fierce at tryouts. We always used to talk about soccer. Now I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t want to bring it up and hurt his feelings, but avoiding it and not talking about it feels . . .” He trailed off as he tried to think of the right word.
“Like an elephant in the room!” I suggested. “It’s like, no one wants to say it, but everyone knows it’s there.”
“That’s exactly it.” Steven beamed at me, smiling again. I smiled back, and I felt my cheeks getting a little red. I did mention that Steven has an awesome smile, didn’t I? “So I guess we’re both dealing with the same thing.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Emma is still Emma, and your friend Jake is probably the same old Jake. I guess we should just act normal around them. I mean, respect their feelings and not rub it in their faces or anything that we made the winter league and they didn’t.”
“And just be ourselves,” Steven said. “And soon we’ll be playing with them again. Man, I can’t believe it, but I even miss Coach Valentine.”
That really made me laugh. The boys’ Kentville Kangaroos had a tough coach. He filled in once for the Kicks coach, Coach Flores, and we missed our sweet and fun coach like crazy. In the end, we’d liked and respected Coach Valentine. He was tough but fair. One thing the Kicks couldn’t decide on was whether we loved or hated his corny jokes. They were way better than all the push-ups he made us do, anyway. But we wouldn’t trade Coach Flores for anyone—especially not Demolition Darby. (Yeah, I’d started calling her that in my head. Our soccer matches were starting to feel like those demolition derbies, where cars smash into one another on purpose.)
As Steven and I walked into English class together, I felt like whistling, I was so happy. Steven was right. Soon the Kicks would be on the field together with Coach Flores at the helm. I just had to learn to deal with the Griffons and Coach Darby until then.
That night I video chatted with Kara. I had filled her in on Sunday night about my stellar job as a bench warmer at the game, so she knew all about that. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her about the scrimmage, though.
“And I tried to squeeze through instead of around the other players. Which was pretty stupid, because I ended up accidentally elbowing one of the Giraffes in the side,” I told Kara. I was a little embarrassed when I said the next words: “I got my first yellow card.”
“Wow!” Kara said, her eyes wide. “I mean, it sounds like you almost had to do it to get through to your coach, Devin. What did she say?”
“That’s what is crazy, Kara,” I said. “Coach was happy about it. I think I impressed her. It’s like Jamie, Kelly, Sasha, and Stephanie are all Coach Darby’s favorites. And they are the ones who play the roughest.” I shook my head. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if the Griffons were at least friendly with one another. But most of them treat their teammates like opponents too. I think that has a lot to do with why we lost our first game.”
Kara let out an exasperated sigh while rolling her eyes. “What is up with that? Soccer is all about teamwork. Go play a solo sport if that’s your attitude.”
“I know, right?” I agreed.
“Well,” Kara said. I could hear her drumming her fingers on her desk, a sign she was deep in thought. “Maybe the other girls are nervous. If they think everyone else is tough, they might think they have to act tough, too.”
“I guess.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Why not try to get to know them better? Like, ask them what their favorite color is or something,” Kara suggested.
I snorted and put on a real dorky voice. “Hi, my name is Devin. What’s your favorite color? Do you want to come to my house after practice for a sing-along?”
Kara cracked up. I’d been making some really goofy faces as I’d said that. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t a good idea,” she said after she finally stopped laughing. “But what about something else? To break the ice?”
I thought about it. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try talking to some of them. You could be right. Maybe they are just feeling intimidated. But I’m not asking them their favorite color.”
“Try asking if they like puppies or kittens better,” Kara suggested as she giggled.
“No. I’ve got it!” I put on the goofy face and voice again. “What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”
“Chocolate chip!” Kara answered through her giggles. “And my favorite color is blue. You knew that already. But you don’t really know anything about your new teammates.”
“True.” It was my turn to drum my fingers on my desk as I thought. An idea started to take shape in my mind. “I do know one thing we have in common: soccer!”
The next day Jessi’s mom, Mrs. Dukes, drove us to Pinewood Rec Center for practice. She had on a really cute turquoise tracksuit and a baseball cap. “Since you guys are getting your exercise, I might as well get mine,” she said. There was a walking path in the park next to the center. She tucked her iPod into her pocket. “But before I do that, I want to talk to Coach Darby.”
Jessi groaned and buried her head in her hands as her mom walked off toward the coach.
“I had a couple of bruises after the scrimmage on Monday,” Jessi said. “My mom noticed them today. They don’t really hurt, but they are kind of gruesome-looking. Anyway, she got all upset. She said I didn’t get hurt like that on the Kicks.”
I looked over at Mrs. Dukes, who was smiling as she talked to Coach Darby. Coach Darby smiled back and nodded before replying, and soon Mrs. Dukes was walking back toward us.
“Have a great practice!” she said, and smiled. “I’ll be waiting by the car.”
“Mom!” Jessi said, concerned. “What did you say?”
“I’ll discuss it with you later,” Mrs. Dukes said calmly. “Now get going.”
She popped the iPod buds into her ears before she started moving at a brisk pace toward the trail.
Jessi and I exchanged glances as we got to the field, but before we could say anything, Coach Darby blew her whistle.
“Listen up!” she barked. “We’re going to change our warm-up today. We’re going to focus on a basic one that will help prevent injury. I’ve had some complaints from parents lately that we’re playing too rough.” And then she looked right at me and Jessi.
I could see the eyes of all the girls looking at us. But my parents hadn’t said anything to Coach, or had they?
Coach Darby instructed us to pass the ball to one another using our hands, jogging and moving around the field the entire time. We would then add in some slow kicks to gently stretch our muscles. I was familiar with this routine; we had done a variation before with Coach Flores.
“Nice going,” Jamie said as she jogged past me. “Now we’re back to kindergarten drills. If you can’t handle this team, you should just quit.”
I could feel my face get hot. I didn’t reply to Jamie; it wasn’t worth it. Jessi looked at me sympathetically. “Sorry if you’re getting flak for what my mom said.”
I shook my head. “Who knows? Maybe my parents said something too.”
“Hey, they have every right to,” Jessi said, defending our parents. “If one day I have kids and they come home all black-and-blue, I’d want answers.”
I smiled, imagining Jessi as a fierce, protective mom. I wouldn’t mess with her kids!
Although Jessi cheered me up, I was sick and tired of being on a team that didn’t feel like a team. I decided now was the perfect time to try my icebreaker, the one I’d thought of after I’d talked to Kara the night before. When the Kicks did this same warm-up, we would call out the name of the person we would be passing the ball to. I had a better idea. When I got the ball, I decided to give it a shot.
