Win or Lose

by Alex Morgan

  He blew sharply into his whistle. “Good work, girls. Hit the locker room. Do any of you have math homework tonight? Don’t worry if you do. Soccer players always do great in math. That’s because they always know how to use their heads!”

  Coach Valentine started laughing, and a lot of the girls joined in. We could tell now that if Coach started joking around, he was happy about how we were playing.

  We all piled into the locker room, chatting away. I noticed the eighth graders had definitely thawed toward the seventh graders since the game against the Panthers. But once we got into the locker room, we were segregated again. The eighth graders all clustered in the back row, while the seventh graders stayed at the lockers closest to the door. We still weren’t totally back to normal. I closed my eyes and made a wish that the Chronicle would print my letter—and soon!

  Zoe changed in record time. “I’ve got to run. Today is the day I have to finalize the party menu. Bye!” she cried as she dashed out of the room.

  “Now you see her, now you don’t,” Jessi said, and laughed. “She’s fast on the field and fast when she has to go party planning.”

  “Guys!” Emma slammed her locker door shut, and it made me jump. “I totally just thought of something. We’ve got to get Zoe a bat mitzvah present!”

  “My mom was going to pick something up,” Jessi said. I nodded. My mom had said she would take care of it too.

  Frida said, “My mom said we would give her money.”

  Emma frowned. “Zoe is one of our best friends. We should get her a special gift. What if we all chip in together and pick out something meaningful?”

  “I like that idea,” I said, agreeing with Emma. “Zoe keeps talking about how she wants to remember this day forever. We should get her something she can keep forever, so it will always remind her of her bat mitzvah.”

  “And of us!” Jessi said. “I like that idea. I’m in!”

  “We could all go to the mall now,” Emma suggested. “I can ask my mom to drive us.”

  We all ran out to the parking lot to get the okay from our parents, and soon we were in Emma’s mother’s SUV heading to the mall.

  “I think that’s a really sweet thought,” Mrs. Kim said of our plan. “How about jewelry? That’s something she could keep forever.”

  So when Mrs. Kim dropped us off at the mall entrance, we decided to check out some of the jewelry stores first.

  The first store we walked into had some really cute stuff, but it was all costume jewelry.

  “This won’t last forever.” Frida held up a pretty, sparkly bracelet. “In fact, I think it might turn Zoe’s wrist green.”

  “Since we’re all chipping in, we can afford to get something nice and more expensive,” Emma said as we headed back out into the mall. “Let’s try this store!”

  The next store we tried was way too fancy. I gulped at the price tags on some of the items. A thin saleswoman with a pointy nose came over to us. “Can I help you?” she said, looking down her nose at us and fixing us with a snooty stare.

  I grew flustered. “How much is that?” I asked, pointing randomly at a tiara that sat in a locked glass case.

  “That is a vintage Cartier diamond tiara,” the woman said with a sniff. “It sells for more than one hundred thousand dollars. I doubt you could afford it.”

  But Frida sniffed right back at her. “A hundred thousand dollars? Our friend is worth more than that. Come, girls, let’s find a jewelry shop with finer-quality items. And with better service.” She said it like she was pretending to be Princess Frida again. She swept out of the store like royalty, and we followed her, giggling.

  Jessi laughed. “I wonder if that woman was related to Debi.”

  Emma’s eyes were wide. “I can’t believe you stood up to that saleslady like that, Frida.”

  “It’s no problem,” Frida said with a smile. “I just called upon my inner diva. She’s always there, waiting to get out!”

  We laughed as we walked into another store. I glanced around. This one had some cute things, and it didn’t seem too expensive or too cheap.

  An older saleswoman with curly brown hair streaked with gray came over to us. “Are you looking for something in particular, girls?” she asked with a smile.

  “We’re looking for a bat mitzvah gift for a friend,” Emma explained. “We want to give her something really special.”

  “I can show you items that are popular bat mitzvah gifts to start,” the saleswoman suggested. “And we can go from there.”

  First she showed us necklaces of the Star of David, a six-pointed star that was a symbol of the Jewish people. The necklaces were really nice, especially one that was lined with diamonds.

  “Oh, pretty,” Emma said, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the shiny star.

  “But anyone can give Zoe a Star of David,” Frida complained. “We need something that would only come from us.”

  “Do you have any hobbies or things you like to do together?” the saleswoman asked.

  “She loves fashion,” Jessi said. “Zoe is a true fashionista.”

  The woman nodded. “So something fashion forward.”

  She showed us some necklaces and bracelets. They were all really beautiful, but nothing clicked.

  “Wait!” I said. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before. “What about soccer? We’re all on the same soccer team.”

  The saleswoman broke out into a big grin. “I have just the thing,” she said. She opened a glass display case and pulled out a sterling silver link bracelet. She held it up, and dangling from it was a soccer ball charm dotted with tiny diamond accents. “It’s our soccer charm bracelet,” she said. “What do you think?”

  We all looked at one another, speechless for a second as we stood with our mouths wide open and our eyes shining.

  “It’s perfect!” Frida finally gasped.

  Emma smiled. “It was made for Zoe!”

  “She’ll always remember who it came from,” Jessi added, beaming.

  “How much is it?” I asked, nervous it would be too expensive. But the saleswoman named the price, and it was totally within our budget.

  “We’ll take it!” I cried.

  “Would you like it gift wrapped?” she asked.

  I looked at the other girls, who nodded. “Why not?” Jessi said.

  As the saleswoman wrapped up the charm bracelet for us, I felt so happy. We had found the perfect gift for Zoe. I hoped finding the bracelet would work as a lucky charm for me, and that the Kentville Chronicle would print my letter soon!

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Did they print it? Did they?” I barreled into the kitchen on Wednesday morning. I’d woken up and thrown on my school clothes before racing out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I had done the same thing the morning before, but no luck. The Chronicle hadn’t printed my letter on Tuesday. So I was really, really hoping it would be in Wednesday’s paper.

  I crashed into Maisie, who was fully dressed and standing by the kitchen doorway holding a cup of orange juice. Bam! The juice flew up into the air, soaking both me and Maisie before the cup clattered to the floor.

  “Mom!” Maisie cried, her face red. “Look what Devin did! I’m all wet, and it’s her fault!”

  Mom sat at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of her. My dad was at the kitchen counter, making Maisie’s lunch. My mom sighed loudly and looked up from the paper.

  “Maisie, I told you not to walk around the kitchen with your cup of juice. Sit at the table and drink it,” Mom said firmly. “And, Devin, didn’t I tell you yesterday not to race around the house? This isn’t the soccer field.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling my hands getting all sticky from the orange juice. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “I’ve got it,” my dad said as he grabbed the mop from the kitchen closet. “Cleanup on aisle five!”

  “Both of you, upstairs and change. And don’t forget to wash your hands,” Mom said.

  “But
what about the paper?” I asked.

  “You’ll find out after you’ve cleaned up,” Mom said. “And only if you can walk into the kitchen, not run.”

  “Okay, got it,” I said as I left the kitchen, forcing my legs not to race up the stairs.

  Maisie followed me. She stuck out her tongue at me as we walked up the stairs. “Ha! You got in trouble.”

  I frowned at her. “So did you.”

  “It was your fault!” Maisie had that whiny tone to her voice that I knew from experience meant she wouldn’t shut up about it. So I ignored her, walked into my room, and shut the door so I could change in peace. I heard her continue to grumble in the hallway before she stomped off to her own room.

  I was a sticky OJ monster. Even my feet and pink flip-flops had gotten a soaking. I needed to wash them and change my shoes. Before I did that, I took a quick picture of myself with my cell phone and sent it to Kara.

  Denim capris, striped tank complete with Maisie’s OJ! When I ttyl I’ll tell u the entire story!

  When I lived in Connecticut, Kara and I used to pick out together what we would wear to school. Since I’d moved to California, with the three-hour time difference, we couldn’t call each other in the mornings anymore. But we still texted each other pics of what we were wearing.

  I washed off and threw on some clean clothes, including a new pair of flip-flops (red this time), and forced myself to walk slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Do-over?” I asked my mom, who was still sitting at the kitchen table. Thankfully, Maisie was still upstairs changing.

  “Yes.” Mom smiled at me. “And thanks for walking into the kitchen this time.”

  “Sure,” I said. I sat down in the chair next to her. “So, is my letter in the paper?”

  My mom nodded and grinned. “It sure is, and they printed it word for word. No misquotes this time.”

  She handed me the sports section. My eyes eagerly scanned the page until I found the letter. I quickly read it. It was exactly as I’d sent it. Whew! Now I had to hope that the other Kicks, especially the eighth graders, would read it.

  I hurried to the practice field after school that day, worried I’d be late. Letter or not, the other Kicks would not be happy about that. Coach Valentine did not tolerate tardiness. But it totally wasn’t my fault. My locker got stuck, and it took me forever to get it open.

  I ran panting onto the field, fearing the worst. But it was strangely quiet. There was no sound of Coach Valentine’s whistle or his gruff voice.

  “He’s late!” Jessi raced over to me while she rubbed her hands together, an evil gleam in her eyes. “I’m going to make him run laps. And do push-ups!”

  I glanced up and saw everyone else on the team huddled together. I looked at Jessi with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

  “They’re reading today’s paper,” Jessi said. “More important, they are reading your letter in today’s paper. Nice job, Devin.”

  I saw that Grace was in the center of the group, holding the newspaper.

  “Sincerely, Devin Burke,” I heard her say. She had been reading it out loud to the entire team!

  I felt myself suck in a big gulp of air. Would they somehow find a way to get mad at me again?

  Grace gave me a small smile. I took it as an invitation and walked over to her.

  “Can we talk?” I asked.

  “Okay,” she said. We walked over to the edge of the field together.

  “I just want you to know I meant every word I said in that letter,” I told her.

  Grace nodded slowly. “I liked that part about our team being like a family. Families sometimes fight. You should see the way I fight with my brother sometimes.”

  I nodded back. “Yeah. I just had a fight with my little sister this morning.”

  Grace sighed. “You know, Devin, that quote in the first newspaper article really hurt my feelings. You’re not the only new person to the team. All of the seventh graders are. Us eighth graders, we played together last year, and we won only one game. And that was because of a forfeit! It was awful. We got teased a lot, especially by some of the boys on the soccer team.”

  I grimaced. I remembered how earlier in the season some of those boys, not Steven and Cody, had called us losers.

  Grace continued. “It was really tough, but it brought all of us eighth graders closer, you know? After this year is over, we’re moving on to high school. It’s our last year on the Kicks. We’re finally playing our best. And to have people think all the credit should go to the new blood, the seventh graders, hurts.”

  Aha! The eighth-grade resentment toward the seventh graders made a lot more sense to me now. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before.

  “So next year, you’ll all still be Kicks,” Grace added sadly. “At the very least, you’ll be league championship Kicks, maybe even more before this season is done. But we’ll be gone.”

  “All of us together will always be league championship Kicks!” I said. “We wouldn’t be champions if it weren’t for all of you. We did it as a team.” And I meant it.

  Grace gave me a small smile. “I just wanted you to know where we were coming from. That first newspaper article kicked up a lot of feelings.” She laughed. “No pun intended. Coach Valentine would have loved that one.”

  I nodded. I understood, but I wished Grace had told me that from the beginning. We might have been able to work things out together as a team.

  “That’s why at the championship game, we wanted to do it all ourselves, so no one could say that we’d won because of you or the other seventh graders.” Grace shook her head. “Now we all know what a bad idea that was.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “But you saw it wasn’t working, and we managed to win. All of us, the seventh and eighth graders together, as a team.”

  Grace nodded before looking over at the field. “Wow, Coach Valentine is still not here. We should start the warm-up,” she said.

  I smiled. “You do it, as the eighth-grade captain.”

  Grace returned my smile before walking back toward the Kicks, who were standing around chatting. “While we’re waiting for Coach Valentine, let’s warm up.”

  I joined them as the team began to run a lap around the field. But we didn’t get far before a shrill scream pierced the air.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

  The noise was coming from Emma. She had stopped in her tracks and was pointing across the field. A huge smile filled her face.

  I looked in the direction where she was pointing. I saw a short woman with curly brown hair in the distance. She was wearing a familiar blue hoodie. It was Coach Flores!

  “Coach!” I yelled.

  Coach Flores smiled and waved. In one motion the Kicks turned and began running straight toward her, screaming and cheering as they ran.

  As we got closer, I could see Coach Flores’s eyes widen in mock fear. She held up her hands to block us. “It’s a Kicks stampede!” she joked.

  We jumped all over her anyway, practically knocking her over as everyone hugged her, talking the entire time.

  “I missed you so much!” Zoe cried.

  “It’s great to have you back, Coach,” Grace told her.

  “Never, ever leave us again,” Frida wailed. “It was horrible.”

  Coach Flores just laughed at that. “I don’t think it was too horrible. You beat the Panthers. Congrats!”

  Everyone began talking excitedly about the game. “And we had a shoot-out and everything!” Emma explained. “Hey, how is your dad doing?”

  “I’m happy to say he’s doing much better, and I’m so glad to be back here with my girls!” Coach Flores said, smiling. “We could chitchat all day, but we’ve got a big game coming up on Saturday. We better get to work! I want to see if Coach Valentine taught you any new tricks.”

  “I don’t know about that, but he sure gave me some new tics,” Frida said while she twitched her eye. Everyone started laughing at that, except Coach Flores, who kept a strai
ght face, but I could tell she thought it was pretty funny.

  “He was tough, even though sometimes he was kind of funny,” Maya said. “But we really did miss you—a lot!”

  “Let’s spend some quality time on the soccer field, then,” Coach Flores replied, grinning. “Count off for scrimmage!”

  “It’s like everything is coming together!” I told Kara that night during our video chat.

  “So, did the eighth graders seem any different after reading the article and after your talk with Grace?” Kara asked.

  I nodded. “When we played a scrimmage, I was on a team with Grace, Jade, Anjali, and Zarine. It felt like things were better, especially with Coach Flores there. Fingers crossed!” I held up my right hand and crossed my middle and index finger, and while I did that I crossed my eyes, too. It always made Kara laugh.

  “Ha!” Kara giggled. “Are you ready for the regional game on Saturday?”

  “We’ve got two more practices, so that will help,” I said, but then I hesitated. The Cosmos had lost their last game and were out of the play-offs. I didn’t want to make Kara feel bad. “But we don’t have to talk about it.”

  Kara just laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Devin. Yeah, it stinks that we’re out of the play-offs, but we had a great season. Now I can put all my play-off hopes and dreams on you. I’m counting on you, Devin!” she said teasingly. “Do it for both of us!”

  Just one of the million reasons I loved Kara. She was the best!

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “This is crazy!” Jessi said as we walked into the gym on Friday afternoon.

  The entire population of Kentville Middle School was climbing into the bleachers. Principal Gallegos stood in front of the crowd, holding a microphone. The school cheerleaders, dressed in blue and white, were warming up on the sidelines. A huge banner, painted by the sixth-period art class, hung from the gym wall. It had a picture of a kangaroo on it kicking a soccer ball, and the words, “Go, Kangaroos!”

  “All right, girls. Let’s line up over here,” Coach Flores said, motioning to all of the Kicks. She was wearing a blue-and-white tracksuit that matched our uniforms, which we had worn to school that day.