by Nancy Krulik
And the time he scored a goal with his belly.
And the time he danced like a ballerina and scored against the Red Polar Bears.
That one had been really great.
The Polar Bears had been too shocked to try and stop him.
They had just stood there. Staring.
It had been so easy for Java to plow right past them.
Hmmm… .
Just then, the ref blew his whistle.
Johnny kicked the ball.
“I can do it!” I shouted, suddenly.
Everyone looked in my direction.
I started cartwheeling down the field.
I did a forward roll. And leaped up onto my toes.
Then I began swinging my hips back and forth and waving my arms up and down.
“Logan,” Tom shouted. “What are you doing?”
“The watusi,” I answered.
I wiggled my hips harder. I waved my arms higher.
“Do the wah-wah-watusi!” I sang as I wiggled and waved.
The Orange Tree Frogs all stood there, staring at me with their mouths wide open.
“Logan, you’re a weirdo,” Jerry Silverspoon shouted from the stands.
“A wiggling, waving, watusi weirdo,” Sherry added.
But I didn’t care. I just kept wiggling. And waving.
Everyone was watching me dance.
Everyone except Stanley, that is.
He was busy watching a bunch of ants pile out of an anthill by his feet.
That was a problem. Because the ball was coming right to him.
“Stanley!” I shouted. “Get the ball! Take it down the field!”
He looked up suddenly. “Huh?”
“The ball!” I shouted again. I pointed at his feet.
Stanley looked down at the ball.
He kicked it. Then he kicked it again.
The next thing anyone knew, Stanley was racing down the field, dribbling the ball.
The Orange Tree Frogs could have stopped him.
They should have stopped him.
But they didn’t.
They were so busy watching me watusi they didn’t even notice Stanley.
I wiggled my hips harder.
I waved my arms wider.
“Do the wah-wah-watusi!” I sang out again.
Stanley kept running.
Past the Tree Frog forwards.
And their midfielders.
And their defenders.
And then …
Slam!
“GOOOAAAALLLL!” the referee shouted.
Yes! Stanley had scored.
Okay, it was only one goal.
But at least the Wombats were on the scoreboard.
10.
Come Clean
Stanley sure was happy.
We might have lost the game. But he had scored for the first time in his life.
I knew I was the real reason Stanley had scored. But I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Besides, it really didn’t matter who scored. We were part of a team.
When I got home I went upstairs to take off my cleats and soccer jersey.
Mom was in the bathroom, fixing the toilet. Again. It was still overflowing every time we flushed.
“Hi, Logan,” Mom called to me. “How did the game go?”
“We lost.”
“I’m sorry,” Mom replied.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Maybe we’ll win next time. Do you think Java will be ready to play soon?”
“Sure,” Mom answered. “His new battery came this afternoon.”
Phew. That was a relief.
“Oh, and I programmed him to not drop bread or any other weird objects down the toilet.”
Just then, Java walked by.
I looked down at my shoes. I felt really bad about blaming Java for stuffing up the toilet.
“Mom, I’ve got to come clean about something. I—”
But before I could tell her the truth, Java shouted, “I can do it!”
He raced into the bathroom, grabbed a bar of soap, and started rubbing it under his pits.
“I can come clean, too,” he said.
“That’s not what I meant,” I told him. “I wanted to say that I tried to flush your soccer jersey down the toilet. That was what really stuffed it up. I’m sorry.”
Mom gave me a funny look.
Uh-oh. I was in trouble now.
She reached out and gave me a big hug.
Okay, I was definitely not expecting that!
I was kind of expecting to be grounded.
“I’m really proud you told the truth,” Mom said.
Phew.
“And by the way, you’re grounded,” she added.
That was more like it.
“I can do it!” Java shouted out suddenly. He shoved me to the floor, hard.
I landed right on my butt.
“See, Logan?” Java said proudly. “Now you are on the ground. Grounded.”
Mom laughed.
But I didn’t think it was so funny.
I rubbed my rear end. That hurt.
Still, I guess I kind of deserved it. I hadn’t been very nice to Java lately.
I was just going to have to get used to the idea that sometimes I was going to be the best. But sometimes my robot cousin was going to be the one to come out on top.
That’s just the way it is in a family.
And when it came to soccer, Java was the top dog—er—droid.
I rubbed my aching backside again.
I definitely had a sore butt.
But, hey, at least I wasn’t a sore loser.
There’s a Soccer Ball on the Ceiling!
Logan learned the hard way that flushing a soccer jersey is a really, really, really bad idea. Some things just don’t belong in the toilet.
Like jerseys. Or action figures. Or alligators. A lot of things don’t belong hanging from your ceiling, either. Luckily, a soccer ball isn’t one of them.
In fact, you can hang a soccer ball from your ceiling anytime you want—as long as it’s a super soccer ball lantern you’ve made all by yourself.
Here’s what you’ll need:
1 white paper lantern that is 20 inches in diameter
4 sheets of tissue paper in the color of your favorite soccer team
Scissors
Cardboard
Mod Podge® with a glossy finish
1 paintbrush
1 soccer ball (to use as a model)
An adult to help you
Tissue paper
Scissors
Lantern
Soccer ball
Paintbrush
Adult
Cardboard
Mod Podge®
Here’s what you do:
Ask your helpful adult to cut a pentagon-shaped template out of the cardboard. (A pentagon is a shape with five equal sides.) The pentagon template should be cut to be the same size as the black pentagons on your real soccer ball.
Use the template to cut twenty pentagons from the tissue paper.
Use the paintbrush to paint a little spot of Mod Podge® on each tissue paper pentagon, and gently stick it to your paper lantern.
Repeat Step 3 twenty times, until all of the pentagons are stuck to the lantern. Try to copy the pattern the black pentagons make on your real soccer ball.
Paint a light coat of Mod Podge® over each pentagon to seal it completely onto your paper lantern.
Allow your lantern to dry.
Ask your helpful adult to hang your new soccer ball lantern from your ceiling.
About the Authors
Nancy Krulik is the author of more than two hundred books for children and young adults including three New York Times bestsellers and the popular Katie Kazoo, Switcheroo; George Brown, Class Clown; and Magic Bone series. She lives in New York City with her husband and crazy beagle mix. Vist her online at www.realnancykrulik.com
Amanda Burwasser holds a BFA with honors in c
reative writing from Pratt Institute in New York City. Her senior thesis earned her the coveted Pratt Circle Award. A preschool teacher, she resides in Santa Rosa, California.
About the Illustrator
Mike Moran is a dad, husband, and illustrator. His illustrations can be seen in children’s books, animation, magazines, games, World Series programs, and more. He lives in Florham Park, New Jersey. Visit him online at www.mikemoran.net
