In the Game

by Kiki Thorpe

  “What is going on, Kate?” Coach asked as the Fireballs gulped water. “You look like your cleats are made of lead!”

  “Sorry,” Kate mumbled into her cup. “I guess I’m just not having a good game.”

  Coach Christy gave her a long look. Kate was sure she was going to take her out. For a second, she felt almost relieved.

  “Do you like soccer?” Coach Christy asked.

  “Yeah,” Kate said, surprised. “I love it.”

  “Then play like you do,” the coach said. “Don’t worry about what other people think. Just play like it’s fun. I know you can do it.”

  Did I have it all wrong? Kate wondered as she ran back out to the field. She’d thought Coach Christy had only made her a goalie because of her hotshot moves. She’d thought she needed fairy dust to be a good player. But it had only made her worse. She didn’t have to cheat—but maybe she didn’t have to try so hard not to cheat, either.

  Maybe Coach Christy was right. Maybe she could just have fun.

  Once Kate relaxed, she started to play much better. Her teammates were playing better, too. They scored two goals. Now the teams were tied.

  It was the end of second half when the Fireballs’ sweeper fouled. The Thunders were awarded a penalty kick.

  Kate braced herself as the Thunder’s kicker lined up for the shot. This was the moment she’d wanted—and dreaded. It was all up to her. She was so focused, she hardly noticed someone shouting off the field…until she heard a familiar name.

  “Stop, Rascal! Stop!”

  Rascal? Kate looked toward the sidelines and her heart skipped a beat. Rascal was bounding toward the soccer field, right on the heels of Vidia. The dog’s fairy dust seemed to be wearing off—he was leaping rather than flying. But it didn’t slow him down any. In fact, every time he rocketed off the ground, he seemed to go faster.

  Mia, Lainey, and Gabby came running after them, shouting. But they couldn’t keep up with the fairy or the flying dog.

  “Kate!” Coach Christy yelled.

  Kate’s attention snapped back to the field just as the kicker booted the ball.

  At the same moment, Vidia crossed onto the field, flying through the middle of the game. Rascal was right behind her, bounding like a deer. For a second, the dog and the ball seemed almost to cross in the air.

  Kate made a split-second decision.

  She pushed off and felt the fairy dust lift her into the air. She heard the other players gasp as she sailed up, her arms open for the catch.

  Kate tackled Rascal. She landed on the ground hard with the dog in her arms. The ball flew into the net behind her, just as the clock ran down.

  “I’m sorry you lost the game,” Lainey said to Kate.

  The four friends were sitting under a blossoming cherry tree in the park. Rascal sat with them. Lainey had a tight grip on his leash. But for once the dog wasn’t trying to run away or chase anything.

  “Thanks.” Kate sighed. “Coach Christy will probably never let me play goalie again.”

  “She might,” Mia said. “That was a pretty amazing save—even if you didn’t actually catch the ball.”

  “Yeah.” Kate half smiled thinking about it. “It was awesome. But I think that’s the last time I’ll ever play with fairy dust—I mean, except in Never Land.”

  “At least we got Rascal back,” Gabby added.

  She reached over to scratch the dog’s ears. Rascal yawned and put his head down in Lainey’s lap.

  “Looks like we finally wore him out,” Mia said.

  “You know, he’s actually kind of sweet when he’s like this,” Lainey said. “Maybe I should dog-sit more often.”

  “Noooooooo!” all her friends said together.

  Lainey laughed. “Just kidding.” She stood up. “I’d better get going. Rascal’s family is going to be home soon. I have to get him back.”

  The other girls stood up, too. “Want to go to Never Land after Lainey takes Rascal home?” Mia asked. “Kate, you must still have some fairy dust left. You can show us some more fancy soccer moves!”

  “Yes!” said Gabby.

  “I’m in,” said Lainey.

  “Me too,” said Kate. “But those soccer moves will have to wait. There’s one more thing I have to do.”

  Vidia sat on a branch in the cherry tree, leaning against a soft pink blossom. She could hear Kate and her friends talking below her, but she didn’t bother to listen. She just wanted to sit and be still for a moment. She felt tired to her bones.

  Out beyond the park, she heard the rush of traffic. A siren wailed. The Clumsy world was not what Vidia had thought it would be. It was faster than Pixie Hollow, yes. But it was full of noise and dust and chaos. Vidia found herself thinking fondly of the soft, lavender-scented air, the drowsy bees, and even the sleepy pace of her home.

  Maybe, she thought, it was better to be the fastest in a slow place than to be one of many fast things in a very fast place.

  “Vidia!” Kate interrupted her thoughts. “Vidia, where are you?”

  What does she want? Vidia thought with a scowl. She hunkered closer to the pillowy cherry blossom, hoping Kate would go away.

  Kate’s large freckled face appeared between the branches. “Oh! There you are. I was looking for you….” She stopped and stared.

  “What?” Vidia asked.

  “Nothing,” Kate said. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you sitting still before.”

  Vidia shrugged.

  “We’re going to Pixie Hollow. Are you coming?” Kate asked, adding, “I’m ready to race you now.”

  “Race?” For the first time ever in her life, Vidia didn’t feel like racing. But she was too proud to admit it. She stood, drawing herself up to her full five and a half inches. “What would I want to race you for?”

  “But you said—”

  “We both know you’d never win,” Vidia went on. “I have better things to do than race Clumsies, my sweet.”

  Vidia rose from the branch and began to circle the cherry tree. Faster and faster she flew, whipping up a windstorm that tore at the cherry blossoms.

  Faster. Faster. Faster!

  Smiling, Vidia blew the petals right off the tree—just because she could.

  Read this sneak peek of Chasing Magic, the first book in a new series.

  by Sudipta Bardhan-Quallen illustrated by Gurihiru

  The sun had barely risen, but Castle DunBroch was already alive with activity. Only one person was still in bed.

  “Merida!” The queen’s voice echoed through the halls. Merida pulled her pillow over her head. Anything to try to block out the sound. Her mother could be heard from anywhere in the castle—even around corners and through stone walls.

  “Merida!” The voice was getting closer.

  Now Merida heard footsteps approaching. “Ach,” she muttered. “It’s too early.”

  Without warning, the blankets were ripped away.

  “Merida,” said Queen Elinor, “how many times have I told you that a princess rises with the sun?”

  “I don’t know,” Merida mumbled. “I don’t think human beings have discovered a number that’s high enough yet.”

  “A princess never mumbles,” her mum added.

  Merida opened her eyes just enough to see her mother standing over her. There she was, hair perfectly combed. Her mouth was a tight line. She arched a single eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry, Mum—” Merida began.

  But Elinor simply jumped into bed next to her daughter. She pulled the blankets over them both.

  “If the princess is going to loll about in bed long after the sun is in the sky,” she said, “then I think the queen is allowed to join her.”

  Merida smiled and threw an arm over her mother.

  “Did you forget what today is?” Elinor asked.

  Merida’s eyebrows scrunched as she tried to remember. “Someone’s arriving?” she asked.

  “Yes, someone is arriving!” Elinor said. “Haven’t you been paying at
tention?”

  Merida bit her lip and looked away. She hadn’t been following events in the kingdom very closely. After all, the Queen of DunBroch was responsible for treaties and truces. Merida was not the queen.

  “Oh, Merida!” said Mum. She reached over and cupped her daughter’s chin. She lifted her face until they were eye to eye. “I know this treaty doesn’t seem as interesting to you as climbing or riding or shooting at things with that bow of yours….”

  “It’s called archery, Mum.”

  “I know it’s called archery, silly goose,” Elinor said. “Treaties may not seem as interesting,” she continued, “but they are important. I expect you, as Princess of DunBroch, to learn from this. That way you will know what to do when you are queen yourself.”

  “Fine, Mum,” Merida mumbled.

  “Did you practice your song?” Elinor asked.

  Merida pulled the blankets up higher. Mum wanted her to be ready to sing a song for the guests. But singing was one of those princess skills that Merida would never master.

  Mum sighed. “You will practice today?”

  But Merida wasn’t loving the thought of getting out of bed. “Just a bit longer?”

  “No lolling about, Merida,” Mum said. “A princess never lolls about.” But when she rose from the bed, she tucked the blankets around her daughter. “A wee bit more,” she whispered, and then straightened her skirts and crown. “Then get dressed and come to the games field. You can practice your song there.”

  Elinor turned to Merida’s armoire. A wimple was hanging from one corner. Merida’s heart plummeted. Mum hadn’t made her wear that stupid thing since the Highland Games, when she had it wrapped around Merida’s head and hair like a cloth prison. But today would be the first important day since the Games. Merida should have known that a “traditional” headdress would be a part of that.

  Elinor lifted the wimple and fingered the white fabric. “Merida,” she said. Her eyes locked with her daughter’s. Merida held her breath. “Don’t wear this ridiculous thing today, please?”

  The games field was buzzing with people when Merida arrived. But Mum was nowhere to be found. Merida only saw her father, King Fergus, holding court.

  “Everything must go well today,” Fergus bellowed. Lords Dingwall, Macintosh, and MacGuffin, who had traveled from their own lands to help with the treaty, nodded solemnly. “Elinor will kill me if anything goes wrong!”

  “And a treaty would help our people prosper,” Lord Dingwall added.

  Fergus grinned sheepishly. “Yes, of course— that, too.” When he spotted Merida, he whispered to her, “But keeping your mum happy is even more important!”

  As Merida giggled, the games field grew silent.

  The lords turned and bowed. Fergus smoothed his kilt. The triplets even hid the cakes they had stolen behind their backs. Only one person could command the people of DunBroch in this way. Mum had made her entrance.

  “My people,” Elinor began. “This is an historic day. The Lord of Cardonagh’s ships will land today to discuss a treaty between our kingdoms. If we come to an agreement, the people of DunBroch will be able to trade freely with the people of Cardonagh. This will bring prosperity.”

  “Aye!” cried Fergus. He crossed the field to lead Elinor up to the dais. They clasped hands and stood side by side while the people cheered for their king and queen. Merida smiled. Her parents were so happy together. Their love was the cornerstone of the kingdom.

  “Just as the clans DunBroch, Macintosh, MacGuffin, and Dingwall once united,” Elinor continued, “now we ally with other friends.” The queen looked over to Merida and held out her hand. Merida took a deep breath and walked to the dais. She held her head up like her mother. Princesses walk with dignity, Mum had said so many times. Merida wanted her to know that she did listen. Sometimes.

  As Merida approached, Elinor took her hand. “Upon signing this treaty,” she said, “DunBroch and Cardonagh will be allies. The future is most precious to us. My daughter, Merida, is your princess. This treaty is for her and for all our children.”

  “Hear, hear!” shouted Lord Dingwall. Others began to cheer as well. Elinor held up her hand for silence.

  “To honor our hopes for the future, Lord Braden is bringing a member of his family, his heir, to DunBroch.”

  Merida’s head snapped up. An heir? She didn’t remember anyone mentioning any heirs. Suddenly, she wished she had paid more attention to the preparations.

  Merida’s heart began to pound. What was her mother about to say?

  “If we are successful,” Elinor said, “then we will celebrate a lifelong bond between DunBroch and Cardonagh.”

  Lifelong bond? Merida thought her parents had given up on the idea of arranging a marriage between her and some lord’s son. But an heir and a lifelong bond? Marriage might be back on the table.

  No, Mum wouldn’t do that, she thought. But then the crowd erupted in cheers. Elinor and Fergus grasped Merida’s hands and raised them into the air in celebration. This is lucky, Merida thought. If I faint, they’ll be holding me up.

  As soon as the cheering died down, Merida tried to pull Mum aside. But Elinor was busy discussing the banquet with Maudie. Merida knew that once Mum started talking about haggis, it would be a long time before she was done.

  Merida sighed and looked for her father instead. But Fergus had gone to meet the ships from Cardonagh. There was no one to ask about the heir and why he was coming.

  “Mum and Dad would never arrange another marriage,” Merida whispered. Why did it sound like she was trying to convince herself?

  Merida glanced at her mother again.

  “Some people like a baked haggis,” Elinor said, “but I prefer a boiled haggis.” Maudie nodded solemnly.

  There was no way to get any answers out of Mum now. Merida needed some time to think.

  She quietly backed away from the hullaballoo. When she was out of sight, she ran back to the castle and to her room.

  In a few minutes, she was headed toward her horse with her bow in hand.

  “I need some time alone, Angus,” Merida said when she reached the stable. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  Soon Angus and Merida were flying through the Highlands. The familiar twang of the bowstring resounded as Merida fired shot after shot. When the princess was riding with a bow, she felt as free as the wind. In no time, she almost forgot about the Lord of Cardonagh.

  Up ahead, hidden in the high branches of a tree, Merida spied a ripe, juicy apple. She brought Angus to a halt. “I’ll get that down for you, Angus. Won’t that be yummy?”

  It was a difficult shot to make, almost straight overhead. But if she hit the stem of the apple, it would fall at Angus’s feet, making it easy for him to snack on.

  Merida drew her bow. Before she released the string, an arrow flew toward the apple. It sliced the stem perfectly. The apple plopped to the ground.

  “What was that?” Still holding her arrow in place, Merida turned to look over her shoulder.

  Behind her, on horseback, was a strange girl holding a longbow.

  The girl asked, “Did I take your target?”

  Excerpt copyright © 2016 Disney Enterprises, Inc. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.