by Mike Lupica
Mrs. Hildreth pulled up a few minutes later, and Alex walked Gabe out to the car.
“This is my fault,” she said, hanging her head. “Again.”
Gabe was quiet for a minute. Almost like maybe this time he agreed with her. But then he said, “Nah, you didn’t trip me. I just went a little too hard on that last pitch is all.”
“Yeah, but I pushed you to come over,” she said. “I encouraged it.”
“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Seriously.”
Now Alex was the one hearing but not believing him.
She watched her friend head toward his mom’s car, limping slightly.
He opened the back seat door, then turned toward Alex. “Maybe the best thing for me to do is just bag baseball this season,” he said.
Then he was in the car and gone.
29
“He just needs to work through this on his own,” Alex’s mom said on their way to Lindsey’s house for the team meeting.
“What he’s really afraid of is that he might miss out on two seasons because of this,” Alex said. “Can’t say I blame him.”
“He’s not going to miss out on anything,” her mom said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve seen his sort of sprain a million and one times,” she said. “Gabe’s being cautious now, and that’s okay. He’s allowed to be scared. There’s no shame in that.”
They were at a stoplight, so she looked up at Alex in the rearview mirror and winked. “Even for tough ones like you and Gabe.”
The Stiles house had a large living room, one that opened into their dining room and kitchen. Most of the parents sat at the dining room table, while the kids took spots on the floor or the L-shaped couch.
Alex had come up with a nickname in her head for what they were here to talk about:
SOS.
Save Our Season.
Lindsey was the first to get up and call the meeting to order. “So, we’re all here to come up with some fundraising ideas,” she started. “And everyone is encouraged to offer their suggestions.”
She took a breath, then continued. “Carly’s going to take notes on her laptop, so we can refer back to them as needed. No idea’s a bad idea, but everyone should know that we obviously can’t go with everyone’s ideas. We’ll have to agree on the best ones before moving forward.”
Then Lindsey sat back down and gave Alex the floor.
Alex was a little caught off guard. She hadn’t prepared to speak first, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve been calling our situation SOS,” she said. “Save Our Season. Maybe that can be, like, our slogan or something?”
“SOS is a cool name,” Annie said. “We should have T-shirts made.”
“Oooh, T-shirts!” Maria said. “Everyone loves good swag.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Banville have that T-shirt shop in town,” Mrs. Stiles said. “I could call them up, see if we could get a good price.”
“We could sell them at the game!” Afafa Agbayong said enthusiastically.
Rashida chimed in then. “What if it said BOYS VS. GIRLS, with just the date of the game underneath?”
“I think you mean GIRLS VS. BOYS,” Carly said, grinning. “We get top billing.”
“If the school gets behind this,” Alex’s mom said, “and you guys can get everybody fired up, those shirts could become collector’s items, as long as they’re not too expensive.”
Roisin raised a hand.
“Before we go any further,” she said, “can I ask about something we haven’t really discussed yet?” She looked around the room. “Exactly how much does a season cost?”
Alex had done some research online, but the numbers had varied for soccer teams across the state. She watched now as Coach Cross walked over and stood in front of the Stileses’ picture window, facing everybody.
“I’ve actually talked to the school about the various expenses,” she said, “as well as to our dear friends on the Town Council, to come up with a reasonable number.”
She paused before breaking the news, “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Alex thought the collective groan from her teammates might rattle the window right out of its frame.
“I know,” she said. “It’s a lot.”
“A lot?” Maria said. “Twenty-five thousand may as well be twenty-five million.”
“How are we going to raise that much money in only a few weeks?” Annie said.
Alex had been sitting on the love seat between Roisin and Lindsey. She found herself standing then and walking across the room to stand next to Coach Cross.
“We can do this,” she said. “We can do this because we have to. Because we owe it to ourselves. We all saw what happened in that game against Palmer. We know how good we can be.”
She wanted to draw Lindsey into this.
“Right, Lindsey?” she said.
Lindsey walked across the room now to stand next to Alex.
“We didn’t give up against Palmer,” Lindsey said. “We’re not going to give up now before we’ve even begun, right?”
“Right!” was the shout from the room.
The next hour was spent brainstorming ideas. Maybe the best came from Alex’s mom.
“We had to do something similar to this in high school once,” she said. “There was this really popular assistant coach who was about to be let go from the football team. It was a budget thing. And you know what happened? The school rallied together and came up with the idea to print programs for the football games. We ran around town selling ads and eventually raised enough to save the coach’s job.”
“So we need to have a program for our game,” Alex said definitively.
“It might turn out to be one of our biggest moneymakers,” Coach said, “if the T-shirts aren’t.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Stiles said. “What else?”
Then the ideas really started to fly.
Thinking of Sophie, Alex threw out the idea of a bake sale, and much to her surprise, the girls were totally into it. Roisin especially, who said it gave her an excuse to whip out her famous pound cake recipe.
Madison Antonino, one of the team’s defenders, said they could raffle off a dinner at her family’s restaurant in town.
Carly typed furiously, careful not to miss what anyone was saying.
“Dad and I have season tickets to the Steelers games,” Alex said. “We can auction off a pair for one of the bigger games.”
Now Afafa’s hand shot up.
“We’ve got season tickets to the Pirates!” she said. “We can raffle those off too.” She smiled, glad to be contributing to the cause.
The energy in the room was palpable. Ideas ricocheted off each other like the diagram of electrons in Alex’s science textbook.
Carly said she had an uncle who worked at a well-known hat company and could maybe get them to donate some branded baseball caps. Ones that had THE GAME embroidered on them.
“By the way?” Alex’s mom said. “Even though my daughter knows I’m not much of a sports expert, isn’t ‘The Game’ what they call the Harvard-Yale football game every year?”
“Not in Orville, Pennsylvania, this spring,” Alex said.
Before it was time to leave, they had broken the team up into various committees. One for the program and securing advertising, one for merchandise like T-shirts and hats, and one that covered raffles and the bake sale.
As they began to file out of the house, one of Alex’s teammates started up a chant behind her.
“SOS . . . SOS . . . SOS!”
Everybody joined in. If they hadn’t been a team before, they were now.
30
Until they got permission from the school and the Town Council, the team agreed they’d continue to keep The Game a secret.
“
And once we do get approval, as I believe we will,” Coach said, “we’ll still need to get the boys on board.”
Alex had been thinking that herself, even though Lindsey had made it seem as if the boys had no choice but to agree.
“Thing is,” Coach said to Alex and her mom in Lindsey’s driveway after the meeting let out, “the boys don’t actually have anything to lose by playing. Only wounded pride, which to me is a small price to pay so that everyone can have a season.”
“But that’s just it, Coach,” Alex said, “they don’t have a season to lose. So playing isn’t essential for them.”
“Maybe so,” Coach Cross said. “But if there’s one thing you all have in common, it’s a love of the game. It’s not so easy to give up the chance to play when the opportunity arises.”
She looked up at Alex’s mom then, the two of them sharing a knowing glance, and Alex was pretty sure she knew what it was about.
Jack often spoke about how much he missed being out on the field as a kid, playing with his teammates. Those were some of the best times of his life. And from what Liza told Alex, not just about her own high school athletic experience but about Coach Cross’s as well, they were both probably thinking how much they’d give for the opportunity to play again.
Alex hoped Coach Cross was right about the boys—that it wouldn’t be an easy choice for them to turn down a game. But inside, she had her doubts.
* * *
• • •
Before practice on Monday afternoon, Coach sat the team down on the gym bleachers for an announcement. She seemed to be in high spirits, so the girls had every reason to believe there was good news coming their way.
And sure enough, there was. Coach had gotten a yes from the school to proceed with The Game. Not only that, but her old soccer buddy from high school, Mrs. McMahon, who sat on the Town Council, also approved the plan. They were as good as gold.
All that was left was for the boys to agree. Not just the players, but their coach, Mr. Selmani, as well. Coach Cross predicted Coach Selmani would probably leave it up to his players.
The girls’ and boys’ teams usually alternated between who got to use the practice field first. Lately, though, the boys had won out. The girls couldn’t lay claim, seeing as their team wasn’t legitimized by the school. Today the boys had it first, and the girls walked out together to meet them.
Coach Cross instructed the girls to start stretching while she went over and pulled Coach Selmani aside so the two of them could have a private conversation.
They were too far away to make out what was being said, but Alex attempted to read their facial expressions and body language to get a sense of how Coach Selmani was reacting to the proposal.
To Alex, he seemed open to the idea. At least, he wasn’t shaking his head no or anything.
When they were done, Coach Selmani waved his players over, and he and Coach Cross stood between the two teams.
Coach Selmani addressed the guys, explaining what the girls were hoping to accomplish with The Game.
“So what do you guys think about that?”
Chase Gwinn stepped forward, a spiteful grin spread across his face, as cocky as ever.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” he said to Coach Selmani. “They want to challenge us to a game?”
Nobody on either team said anything right away, so Alex stepped forward.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “The challenge is for us to raise enough money so that we can have a season. We’re putting together fundraising tactics is all.”
“By putting us on the spot,” he responded.
“By playing a game with you guys,” Alex said. She could feel the frustration rising in her throat and told herself to cool off. They’d never agree to this if she lost her temper.
Chase held up a finger, as if telling Alex to wait, which Alex thought was completely rude.
“Let me talk this over with my boys,” he said.
Like he owns the team.
Chase gathered his teammates around him. Alex couldn’t hear what he was saying. But the team meeting couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes.
“So we talked it over, and here’s what we came up with,” Chase said. “Let’s do this right now. Our team against your, uh . . . non-team.” That got a chuckle out of the boys. “Then we’ll see if you can keep up with us enough in a real game.”
“We’re not trying to prove some point here,” Annie said. “We just look at this as being a win-win for all of us.”
“Yeah,” Lindsey said. “Think of it as just another chance to play a game you enjoy in front of a crowd of people. Win or lose, it really doesn’t matter.”
“We always win,” Chase said. “And win. And win.”
Alex cracked a smile at him, even though she didn’t mean it.
“In that case,” Alex said, “we accept your challenge, as long as Coach Cross thinks it’s okay.”
Coach Cross grinned. “Fine with me,” she said, looking toward Coach Selmani, who merely shrugged.
As both teams gathered together, Lindsey said to Chase, “The only thing you stand to lose, Gwinn, is the right to talk smack.”
She wasn’t as good a soccer player as Chase was, Alex thought. But if smack-talking were a sport, Lindsey would be second to none.
“You talk a big game, Stiles, but let’s see if you can walk the walk,” Chase said to her.
Lindsey glowered at him.
“I’m not the one who requested a practice scrimmage just to ensure I won’t be embarrassed in front of a crowd.”
Chase’s face went beet red, and he opened his mouth to respond, but Coach Selmani cut him off.
“Okay, okay,” he said, losing his patience a little. “We’re about to have what’s called a ‘friendly’ in soccer. So let’s zip it on the chirping for the time being and play a thirty-minute half.”
“It will serve as practice today for both teams,” Coach Cross said.
* * *
• • •
Before very long—the first five minutes of play, in fact—the boys were already up by three goals.
Annie and Lindsey were no match for Chase and his two best strikers, Johnny Gallotta and Ryan Lazar. Even though it sometimes seemed as if Chase didn’t need either one of them as his wingman. He was that kind of wizard with the ball, scoring the first two goals for the boys and making Carly look bad as she struggled to block them both.
Chase excessively celebrated both goals as if they were playing in the state championship and not just a practice scrimmage. The first time, he extended his arms out like an airplane and zoomed around the field, at one point getting up in Alex’s face. On the next goal, he curtsied to Lindsey.
The second time, Coach Selmani yelled at him to cut it out.
Chase just laughed it off and ran back up the field as he and his teammates continued to dominate the first half.
He scored again a few minutes later, raising their lead to 4–0.
At that, Coach Cross blew her whistle and subbed in Alex, Roisin, Afafa, Rashida, and a few other new players.
At the next whistle, a couple of minutes later, Roisin sidled up to Alex and said, “Why do I feel like they’re runnin’ downhill while we’re goin’ uphill?”
“Just remember,” Alex said to her, keeping her voice low. “This is a game. But it’s not the game.”
It was 7–0 by the time Coach Cross announced one minute left. By now Coach had switched Annie off Chase and stuck Alex on him. Even during play, he kept trying to chirp on her, but Alex ignored him. Or just laughed at his attempts to intimidate.
“You think this is funny?” Chase said.
“Well, Chase,” she said, “I wouldn’t give you a Netflix comedy special or anything, but it’s fun to watch you try.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cha
se said mockingly, “didn’t realize the score was so amusing to you.”
“Funny thing is,” Alex said back, “you seem to be the only one concerned about it.”
Alex could see how much Chase wanted to score again. The perfect cap to a perfect day. Showing up the girl he’d thought had claimed his rightly earned spotlight last fall.
He was sprinting up the field again, tongue out, like he did when he had full control of the play. Running directly at Alex, he faked a pass to Johnny, but Alex could see right through him.
She acted as if she’d bit on the fake, leaning Johnny’s way, so that Chase thought he had a step on her.
He didn’t.
Just as he started to blow past her, Alex went into a slide, knocking the ball away from him. It took Chase a moment to slow his momentum and turn back around. But by then, Alex had gotten to her feet.
Alex’s ball now.
She made a quick pass to Roisin, who carried the ball into the boys’ end. Chase wasn’t going for her, though. He was trying to catch up with Alex.
He’s fast, Alex thought.
But so am I.
Finding an extra kick of energy, Alex pushed herself into high gear, creating some room between herself and Chase. Then Roisin sent her the ball right back, and Alex gave a fast head fake to Justin Soares, the closest defender.
Then she was past Justin.
Alone against their goalkeeper, Danny Stroud.
Best keeper in the boys’ league.
Alex didn’t hesitate or try to get too fancy. She was counting on the fact that Danny believed she favored her right foot. Few knew that Alex was capable of using both.
As suspected, he guessed that she would hook one to his right.
She didn’t.
Instead, she slowed enough to fake a kick and pushed the ball behind her left foot.
And then absolutely flushed a shot into the top left corner.
Just like that, they were on the board.