Sabotage Season

by Alex Morgan

  “Most likely they were here to size us up,” Brianna said thoughtfully. “After all, we did go from being the worst team in the league to being serious competition.”

  Emma shrugged. “Who cares? We need to hurry up and get changed so we can see how Zoe is doing!”

  In all the excitement I had almost forgotten about my missing bag! I had nothing to hold my cleats and my borrowed uniform.

  “Hey, everyone!” I called loudly over the din of lockers being opened and the girls chatting about the Mirabelle news. “My soccer bag is missing. It’s hot pink and black.” A lot of the girls had black-and-white or black-and-pink bags. “It also has a soccer key chain attached to it, with little US flags on it.”

  My dad had gotten me that key chain during the summer Olympics, when my entire family had watched the US women’s soccer team win the gold! I’d spent a lot of time that summer daydreaming about being on the Olympic team myself one day.

  “Sorry, Devin, haven’t seen it!”

  “Nope, not here!”

  “We’ll keep a lookout for it!”

  The Kicks’ voices echoed through the locker room, the same response over and over. My shoulders slumped in disappointment.

  I folded the spare uniform and tucked it under my arm, my cleats dangling from my hand. Emma and Jessi were changed and ready to go, and I noticed that Jessi had a really serious look on her face.

  “Worried about Zoe?” I asked.

  “Yes, but it’s not just that,” she replied. “Something weird is going on. Strange e-mails. A missing bag. And now Zoe’s hurt.”

  “Are you saying they’re all related or something?” Emma asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Jessi said. She tapped Sarah on the shoulder as she walked past.

  “Can I see your phone?”

  Sarah stopped. “Sure,” she replied.

  “I need to see that e-mail you got from Coach Flores on Monday,” Jessi said.

  Sarah nodded and scrolled through her screen. “Here it is.”

  Jessi looked at it. “Aha! See? This e-mail is from coachflores@mailmee.us, but Coach’s address is coachflores@smartphone.net!”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Jessi held out her own phone. “See? It’s right here.”

  I looked at Jessi’s phone, and she was right. “Well, maybe that’s an old e-mail address of hers.”

  Jessi’s face fell. “Yeah, you might be right.”

  “Can we talk about this later?” Emma interrupted, her voice anxious. “I want to find out if Zoe’s okay.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said.

  We left the locker room, and my mom and Maisie were waiting for us. My dad was at work, so he had given my mom the video camera to record the game. Dad came to every game he could and recorded it. He was my biggest fan! But Maisie was holding the video camera now.

  “I don’t know how to work that thing,” my mom complained as she gave me a hug and a kiss. “So Maisie was today’s videographer.”

  I rolled my eyes. Whenever Maisie got her hands on any kind of recording device, she used it to make what she called the Maisie Show. Basically it was Maisie singing and telling corny jokes and long, rambling stories. I’d put it like this: It was not likely to be picked up for television anytime soon.

  Maisie gave me a smirk, which made me wonder how much of our game was actually on there!

  “Mom, how is Zoe?” I asked. Jessi and Emma gathered around, concerned.

  “It looks like she put her hand down to break her fall when she fell, and when she did that, she hurt her wrist,” Mom explained. “Her parents took her to the hospital for X-rays. They want to make sure nothing is broken.”

  “Can we go see her?”

  My mom nodded. “I knew you’d want to, Devin. Jessi and Emma, if you would like to ride with us, I already talked to your moms about it.”

  “Of course!” Emma said.

  Jessi nodded in agreement. “We Kicks have to stick together!”

  We piled into the van, and as soon as we strapped on our seat belts, my mom handed out water bottles to everyone. “You girls need to hydrate!” she said. “That was quite a game.”

  I exchanged smiles with my friends. My mom was a health nut, and her biggest worry in the world was that I would dehydrate, wither up, and blow away on the next strong breeze.

  At the hospital there was no sign of Zoe, but her oldest sister, Jayne, sat in the waiting room. My mom went over and started talking to her. Jayne was a senior in high school and very mature. Like Zoe and her two other sisters, Jayne was a fashionista and looked like she’d just stepped out of a magazine. Zoe said it helped to have three older sisters’ closets she could raid!

  “Zoe’s getting her X-rays now,” my mom said after Jayne was done filling her in. “Her parents are with her. So let’s just take a seat and wait.”

  Maisie sat in a chair with her handheld video game player to occupy her. I noticed Mom had also slipped her a snack bag of cookies, a rare treat that was also guaranteed to keep Maisie quiet and happy. Emma slumped into a seat, but Jessi and I paced back and forth nervously. Of course I was worried about Zoe, but to tell the truth I was also worried about what Zoe’s injury would mean to the team.

  Since we had won today’s game, we had a chance at the play-offs. Most likely we’d need to win at least three more games, but there were other teams competing for the third and fourth spots too, mainly the Rams and the Tigers. I walked back and forth, running numbers and scenarios through my mind.

  “Earth to Devin!” Jessi called out, a grin on her face. “Zoe’s not dying or anything. Don’t look so worried!”

  “It’s not that.” I shook my head. “I’m trying to figure out exactly how many wins we’ll need to make play-offs, but it’s complicated. The Eagles need to lose two more games, and we need to have three more wins, I think. But I’m not sure. It’s kind of confusing.”

  Jessi frowned. “Devin, Zoe is hurt, and all you can think about are stats?”

  Jessi putting it like that made me feel kind of heartless. I immediately stopped in my tracks as a horrified look crossed my face. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that! Of course I’m worried about Zoe.”

  Emma turned to me. “I get it, Devin. We need a captain who wants to win!”

  “Thanks,” I said. “And it’s not just about winning. I mean, I’ve wanted to be a professional soccer player since I was eight years old. And colleges look at championship teams when they recruit.”

  “College recruiters look at middle school championship teams?” Jessi said.

  I shrugged. “Maybe not,” I said. “But it can’t hurt to win either.”

  Just then Zoe and her parents walked into the waiting room. Zoe’s right wrist was wrapped in a bandage and her arm was in a sling. Her face was still pale and she looked tired, but she brightened up when she saw us waiting for her.

  “Zoe!” Emma launched off the chair and ran over to her.

  Zoe backed up and put her good hand out. “Whoa! I don’t want to get knocked over again,” she said with a laugh.

  “It’s not broken, but it’s a severe sprain,” Mrs. Quinlan was telling my mom.

  “So can you play?” The words popped right out of my mouth before I could stop them. Jessi shot me a stern look. “I mean, you don’t really need your hands in soccer, unless you’re a goalie. And I’m so glad it’s not broken!”

  Zoe sighed. “The doctor says it could take three or four weeks to heal,” she said. “I asked him if I could play soccer, but he said that wouldn’t be a good idea, because if I fall on it again, it could get hurt worse.”

  “I agree,” Zoe’s mom said firmly. “And I know that the school has a strict policy about keeping players with injuries off the field. Remember when your sister hurt her knee?”

  Zoe sighed. “I know.”

  “Does it hurt?” Emma asked, her eyes wide with concern.

  “Not too bad anymore; they gave me some ibuprofen,” Zoe said.

&nb
sp; “We’re just glad you’re okay,” Jessi said as she gingerly gave Zoe a hug, trying to steer clear of her right wrist.

  I was glad Zoe was going to be okay. But I couldn’t help wondering what it would mean for the Kicks.

  Once we all knew that Zoe was all right, I had to tell my mom and dad about my missing uniform. Mom totally freaked out.

  “You must have misplaced it,” she kept saying. “Did you retrace your steps?”

  “I looked everywhere!” I told her over and over, but she didn’t seem to believe me. But she did take me to the mall at the last minute to get some new shin guards, and I was grateful for that. I was also glad that I’d had my cell phone tucked into my jeans pocket that day, not in my bag like I usually did. She would have gone seriously nuts if I had lost that, too. And luckily, I still had plenty of the pink sports wrap at home that I used to make my headbands.

  One thing was still worrying me when I got to the practice field the next day. With Zoe out we were going to need to come up with some new formations for the field, and quick. Because play-offs were looming, I began to get nervous. Our team had just started to turn things around. Could we bounce back from a blow like this? Coach Flores was running today’s practice, but I knew she was always open to ideas.

  I pulled Grace aside before we started our scrimmage to share with her what I was thinking.

  “I think we need to come up with some serious changes to compensate for Zoe’s absence,” I told her.

  Grace frowned. “Zoe’s really awesome and all, but we’re a team. I think we’ve got some good players we can sub in for her as striker.”

  “But in that Pinewood game we totally relied on Zoe to take the Panthers by surprise,” I said, making my case. “And Zoe really carried the offense for us against Victorton, too. It’s going to throw everyone off to not have her out there.”

  Grace looked at me for a second without saying anything. She was usually pretty quiet but always very focused, and she was a natural athlete.

  “You have a point, Devin,” she said slowly. “If there’s something you want to try, we should do it now at practice.”

  I grinned. “Thanks,” I said. “Let’s tell Coach.”

  Grace and I approached Coach Flores. “So, I was thinking we should try something new for the scrimmage today,” I said. “How about using a two-four-two offensive formation?”

  Coach raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s the right formation for our team?”

  I had been researching different formations ever since Zoe had become injured. When we scrimmage, we divide the team into two teams of nine. We usually have three on defense, three midfielders, and two strikers on each side: three-three-two. In a two-four-two formation, we’d have a stronger midfield. Maybe that would compensate for losing Zoe, whose speed often confused the opposing defenders.

  “Can we at least try it?” I asked. “I think it might give us an advantage.”

  Coach shrugged. “Why not? Let’s give it a try.”

  She divided the team into two groups for the scrimmage, and I assigned positions.

  “Frida, you move to midfield!” I called as we jogged onto the field. “Jessi, try out defense.”

  “What?” Jessi asked, puzzled. “I thought I could sub in for Zoe.”

  “We’re trying out something new, and I need you as a sweeper,” I told her.

  I gave a quick explanation of the formation to the girls, but I could tell they were a little confused. We began the scrimmage anyway, and chaos soon erupted.

  On defense Sarah got dragged infield, so when Jessi and Giselle tried to compensate, it left massive holes in our defense.

  Megan took advantage and scored on Emma.

  “Where am I supposed to be?” Anna called, confused. As a midfielder she had to cover different areas of the field while constantly switching from blocking attackers to trying to pass the ball to the forwards. Frida also looked lost. Soon other voices could be heard, shouting in confusion.

  “Hey, you’re supposed to be here!”

  “Should I be helping defense or offense right now?”

  Coach blew her whistle. “Stop! Okay, it was worth a shot, Devin, but I think we’ll put this formation on the back burner for a while.”

  “But, Coach,” I pleaded, my words coming out in a rush. “Maybe if we move Jessi to midfield and—”

  “Devin, relax.” Coach placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. “This isn’t working. Let’s try something else. We can still have a good practice today, don’t worry.”

  She began talking to the team, organizing us for a quick, basic scrimmage.

  I let out a deep sigh. Of course Coach wouldn’t be worried. She didn’t realize yet that we’d never make the play-offs without Zoe. And today’s practice was proof!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After practice Frida’s mom dropped Jessi, Emma, Frida, and me off at the frozen yogurt place in town. We went right from the field, still in our grass-stained uniforms, but I didn’t care. I felt like I had eaten lunch an eternity ago, the sun was hot, and a cup of frozen yogurt was going to hit the spot like nothing else. We found a table by the window, and soon I was settled in my seat, eating a cup of vanilla with fresh strawberry and kiwi on top.

  “This definitely makes up for that lousy practice,” I said after my first spoonful, and Jessi and Emma looked at each other.

  “What?” I asked, putting down my spoon.

  “That practice was doomed from the start,” Jessi said with her usual bluntness. “What was up with switching around everybody’s positions?”

  “What is up is that I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to win without Zoe,” I replied. “We’ve all got to be willing to try new things.”

  “Well, maybe switching positions isn’t the best answer,” Emma said diplomatically. “Maybe Coach has some ideas.”

  “I love Coach Flores, but you know how laid-back she can be,” I countered. “Anyway, it was worth a try, right?”

  “Just please don’t make me play midfielder again,” Frida said. “I feel much safer back by the goal.”

  “Safer? With all those strikers coming at you?” I asked.

  Frida shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I found my comfort zone.”

  My feelings were starting to get a tiny bit hurt, so I was glad when Jessi changed the subject.

  “So, Devin, you never found your duffel bag?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “It’s so weird. It’s like it just disappeared. Mom even called the school janitor and asked him to keep an eye out for it around the school, but he hasn’t seen it.”

  Frida’s dark eyes got wide. “It must have been foul play,” she said, lowering her voice dramatically.

  “You mean like a chicken took it?” Emma asked, giggling.

  “Not fowl play. Foul play,” Frida said. “I think your duffel bag was stolen.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking!” Jessi agreed.

  “But who would want to steal a uniform and some shin guards?” I asked. “I could see that if I’d left it on the field or something, but this was in the locker room. Somebody would have had to go to a lot of effort to get in there and take it.”

  “Unless it didn’t take any effort at all,” Frida said, pausing dramatically. (To be fair, she did most things dramatically.) “It must have been someone on the team!”

  Emma gasped. “No way! Who would do that? And why?”

  “Reveeeeenge,” Frida said, stretching out the word. “Or power. We’re going to be doing all these Shakespeare scenes in my acting class, and there’s tons of stuff like that in his plays.”

  “That is ridiculous,” I said. “First of all, who would want to get revenge on me? For what?”

  “Then maybe it’s a power grab,” Frida suggested. “Like when Macbeth destroyed all of his enemies so he could become king.”

  Jessi raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying that somebody wants to take over as co-captain and so they stole Devi
n’s uniform? That’s kind of a stretch.”

  “Yeah, especially since nobody else really wanted the job,” I reminded everyone.

  “Maybe it’s not so serious,” Emma tossed out. “Maybe it’s like a prank. My cousin plays high school football, and the senior boys always prank the younger boys.”

  Jessi nodded. “That’s true. And what about that weird e-mail that went out to some of the girls? If Coach Flores didn’t send it, that’s kind of like a prank.”

  I thought about this. “So you think one of the eighth graders did it?” I asked. “But that doesn’t make sense. Most of the girls who got the e-mail were eighth graders.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not the eighth graders,” Jessi said. “But it could still be somebody on the team.”

  “The Mystery Prankster!” Frida said in an ominous tone.

  I frowned. “Stealing my duffel bag could have kept me out of the game. I don’t think anyone on the team would pull a prank that would jeopardize a game, would they?”

  Everyone was quiet for a little bit, and I knew they were silently agreeing with me. Finally Frida spoke up.

  “Hmm. I still think treachery is afoot,” she said.

  “Okay, Shakespeare. Chill out,” Jessi said, laughing.

  Just then Emma’s phone beeped.

  “It’s from Zoe,” she reported, looking at the screen. “She says she misses us and she’s going to come to practice tomorrow to watch, even though she can’t play. Yay! You know, maybe we should do something fun with her after practice. I know it hasn’t been easy for her, getting around school in her sling and all that.”

  “It hasn’t,” Frida said. “Brendan Insler has been following her around so he can carry her books. Zoe’s totally annoyed.”

  “Brendan?” I asked. I still didn’t know most of the kids in seventh grade.

  “Actually, I think he’s totally cute,” Jessi said.

  “You think every boy is totally cute,” I pointed out, and Jessi gave me a light punch on the arm.

  “Then we definitely need to cheer her up,” Emma said. “We should go to the mall after practice since tomorrow’s Friday.”