She had been dumped by Cam and Brooks, so what did she do? She turned around and stole Charlie’s friends—friends she cherished—on a whim.
The more she thought of Krista and Noah together at her lifeguard station, the more her hatred became like the blister on her foot—a wound that hadn’t healed all season long because every time it seemed to be getting better, the skin peeled back, exposing a raw, tender layer.
She felt completely alone. And the timing couldn’t have been worse. She gave up pretending to read and crawled under the covers to try to get some sleep before the first game tomorrow.
Krista came up from the locker room and peered over at the Beachwood bleachers. They were absolutely packed. Pretty good, considering that Pomona was about a two-hour drive and it was Thanksgiving weekend. The boys’ team had made the two-hour trek out to Pomona together and now lined the bottom row. Krista and Charlie’s parents had made the drive as well. Krista noticed them looking for a place in the bleachers. Her dad gave her an encouraging fist pump, and she gave a small, polite wave. He’d stuffed a card into her suitcase yesterday that said, A big shot is a little shot that keeps shooting. When she’d read it this morning, she’d smiled. She’d wondered if he’d given one to Charlie, too.
Krista was stretching her calves when she felt something tap her on the head. Once. Then twice.
Krista looked up—it was the first few drops of rain.
Umbrellas opened in the stands as Beachwood began their first warm-up lap around the field.
The second time around, the rain started to increase. Krista’s heart raced. She hated playing in wet conditions and rarely did since it rained so infrequently in Southern California.
If she played tentatively when the sun was shining, slippery turf only exacerbated her problem. Cutting back quickly and slipping on the wet grass was like an invitation to retear her ligament. She tried not to think about it as the team rotated through their drills and stretches.
What she thought about instead was finding a way to force Charlie to talk to her—to work things out before the game started. If they wanted to win and move on in the tournament, they were going to need to work together. They couldn’t blow it now.
As the defenders booted long balls back and forth, warming up their legs for goal kicks, the B-dub offense rotated through shooting drills that Darcy deflected. Krista lined up behind Charlie and tried to make peace with her.
“Charlie,” Krista said, trying to keep her voice low. “I know you’re avoiding me, but I really need to talk to you.”
Charlie didn’t even turn around. “Go to hell.”
“What?”
Surely, she had misheard what Charlie just said.
“You heard me,” Charlie snapped.
Ooo-kay. So she hadn’t misheard.
“What is your problem?” Krista demanded. Here she was, trying to be nice, to reach out…
“To start? You.” Charlie shot the ball past Darcy. Krista took her turn and missed. She circled around and took her place behind Charlie again.
Time for another tactic. Maybe she could bait her sister into opening up. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to know what’s wrong. You have more issues than Us Weekly.”
Charlie forced a laugh. “Great line. Which one of Brooks’s bad movies did you get that one from? Bitch on Wheels?”
Despite her best intentions, Krista flared at the mention of Brooks’s name. “She has nothing to do with this!” she snapped.
Charlie smiled. “What, sore subject? Now, what exactly happened—did you make out with Noah because Brooks is with Cam now? Or is she with Cam now because you decided to hook up with Noah?”
Krista gasped at the low blow. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered.
“Why? To protect you? Look out for you? Have your back?” Charlie acted like these were novel concepts.
“Seriously, why are you being like this? You’re acting like a jealous—”
Suddenly, a horrible idea dawned on Krista. “Oh my God. Do you have feelings for Noah? Is that what this is all about? You’re jealous because he chose me over you….”
“I do not like Noah,” Charlie snapped. “Don’t be insane.” She paused. “Oops—too late.”
The ref blew the whistle signifying the end of warm-ups. Krista watched Charlie jog to the sidelines.
She stared after her sister, dumbfounded. Was she lying about her feelings for Noah? It seemed unlikely. Krista had never gotten that vibe from her before.
So, then, what was her problem? Was she simply a psycho? Was it a miracle she hadn’t popped out of the womb with horns and a pitchfork?
The rain came down even harder, soaking through Krista’s uniform.
She bent down and retied her laces, as she always did when she was nervous. Then she did a quick last huddle with her teammates and coaches and took her place on the field.
Noah shouted at her, “Kris!”
She spun around and stared at him, surprised he was talking to her.
“Aggressive, okay? Go after this!”
She nodded, but her confidence was shaky.
As soon as the game started, Krista knew they were in serious, serious trouble. Not because of the downpour, but because she and Charlie were having a full-out breakdown.
It started with simple commands that Charlie wasn’t paying attention to—she wasn’t even looking to find Ruthie and Jen. If she had the ball, she simply plowed forward on her own, as if she were the only player on the field. Even Noah was shouting to her from the sidelines. But apparently, Charlie wasn’t listening. She was doing what Charlie did best when her defenses were up. She was pushing everyone away.
Now, in the middle of the second half, Beachwood finally had a chance to score. Krista, who was heavily guarding Madison’s number four, saw a breakaway opportunity. She dribbled the ball upfield, telling Charlie to move back.
“Switch back,” she yelled as she carried the ball forward, searching for a shot or a teammate to pass to.
But Charlie didn’t move back. Instead, she charged at Krista. She was actually trying to steal the ball!
“What’re you doing?” Krista yelled. “Get back! Get on four.” The ball rebounded off Krista’s leg, and number four from the opposing team trapped it. She broke away, heading to Beachwood’s goal. Krista and Charlie frantically ran back to defend against Madison’s offense. But the Beachwood team was so frazzled by Charlie’s behavior that nobody was where they should have been. Carla and Erica had rushed up when Charlie and Krista started their tussle. Now there was just Julie and Jamie left to stop the opposing team. Outnumbering Beachwood, they easily scored.
Martie, normally calm, threw up her hands on the sidelines.
“What was that?” she screamed over the roar of Madison’s fans.
Krista stared at the ground, angry, knowing exactly what it was: an amateurish mistake that might have cost them the game.
“Ever heard of moving back?” she yelled to Charlie. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Ever heard of knowing your place?” Charlie spat the words. “You have your position. You don’t have to try to steal mine.”
Krista couldn’t believe this. Were they talking about soccer now—or Noah?
“Soccer 101!” she snapped. “If I go up, you move back. It doesn’t take a genius!”
“You leave your mark and your position and it’s somehow my fault?” Charlie asked. “Grow up!”
“It is your fault,” Krista yelled. “You don’t try to take the ball from someone on your own team!”
Krista noticed that their teammates were starting to gather around. Jamie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder to calm her. Charlie knocked it off.
Krista and Charlie were both soaking wet. The rain came down fast and hard. Charlie took a step closer to Krista, getting in her face.
“You can’t stand that someone else would come in here and outshine the perfect, legendary Krista Brown. It makes you sick that I can do what you do
, only better. You can’t stand that I’m the one getting more attention than you—”
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about.” Krista laughed. “You’re insane.”
“You couldn’t believe that my new friends actually chose giving me attention over you, so you had to do the one thing that you knew would hurt me. You had to get Noah’s attention—”
“Shut up,” Krista interrupted, panicking. She couldn’t let Charlie finish that sentence. She grabbed her arm.
“Get away from me,” Charlie screeched. She pushed Krista, hard. Krista stumbled backward into Jen behind her.
In that moment, she was so angry at Charlie, she literally couldn’t see straight. She lunged for her sister, and the referee intervened, keeping them apart.
A whistle blew, snapping Krista out of her rage. She looked up and took in the ref’s expression. It was true horror—as though he didn’t know whether to pull out a yellow card, a red card, or a restraining order.
Martie rushed over from the sidelines. “Krista! Charlie! Get off this field right now! You are both officially suspended from play.”
Krista sat on the team bus with her head in her hands. She couldn’t think of anything worse than being kicked off the field. Her parents had been in the stands, so many kids from Beachwood had driven out…. She felt sick to her stomach thinking of how she’d let them all down. She was absolutely humiliated.
Her parents had left to head back to Malibu, not wanting to suffer through the downpour if their girls weren’t even playing. They’d wanted to take her home, along with Charlie, but according to the rules, neither one of them could leave until Martie released them.
Krista shook her head. The steady rain tapped on the bus’s metal roof. All else was silent.
Then the crowd inside the Pomona arena roared. Krista strained to see the scoreboard through the rain-flecked bus window.
No! Madison had scored again. Beachwood was down by two. If they didn’t win, they were out of states.
Just like that. All their hard work was down the drain.
Krista balled her hands into fists. She should be out there. She should be leading her team to victory. Instead, she was trapped on this stupid bus with her selfish sister.
She felt bottled up, like she was going to explode. She slammed her fists down on the seat in front of her and spun around to face Charlie, who was sitting in the last seat.
“They just scored again,” Krista yelled as tears began streaming down her face. “How could you have done this?”
Charlie scowled and remained silent.
“We should be out there!” Krista pointed toward the lit-up field. “We had a chance. You—you ruined everything!”
Charlie jumped up. Now she was crying too. “No, you ruined everything!”
“Why? Because of Noah?” Krista cried. “Noah doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“He has everything to do with it,” Charlie screamed back.
Krista shook her head. “I didn’t know you were even interested in Noah!”
Charlie glared at Krista, a look of complete disbelief on her face. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she spat, using her hands to wipe the tears away. Krista had never seen Charlie cry this hard. “I’m not interested in Noah! I never was interested in Noah!”
“Then what the hell is this all about?” Krista yelled back.
Charlie’s face turned purple, and for a moment, she could barely speak. She took a minute to collect herself.
“This isn’t about some stupid boy or some stupid crush,” she said slowly between breaths. “This was about me getting a life! This was about finding people who believed in me—supported me. This was about me standing in the spotlight for once—and then you came and stole it all away!”
Krista’s jaw dropped open.
“For one time,” Charlie added, “this wasn’t about you.”
Before Krista could respond, a huge flash of lightning lit up the sky. A second later, the thunder clapped so loudly she could feel the bus rumble.
Suddenly, everyone was streaming out of the arena, running toward the parking lot—the crowd, the players, the referees.
Krista’s teammates, wet, muddy, and cold, piled onto the bus. None of them would speak to her, but Krista did gather that Beachwood had received the luckiest of breaks. The game was called due to weather. At least one good thing had happened—Beachwood was still in the tournament.
• • •
“You can come in now.”
Charlie looked up from her spot on the floor outside Martie’s hotel room door. Martie was standing there in the doorway without even a hint of a smile on her face.
Charlie got up slowly. Painfully. Her whole body ached.
As she walked past her coach, Charlie had no idea what was going to happen, but as far as she was concerned, Martie could just end it all here. This whole soccer experience had turned into one big fat disaster. And now, to top it off, the entire team was mad at her.
She could be sent home for all she cared—and maybe she should be. Martie would just be putting her out of her misery.
“Martie, I—” she began.
Martie held up a hand, stopping her cold. “No, Charlie. No. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I told you to let me know if there was something going on. I told you to sort it out before the game.”
“I know,” Charlie insisted, “but you don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t understand,” Martie interrupted. “I’ve been teaching you and coaching you for months. What have you even learned?”
Charlie was taken aback. “I—I’ve started every single game. You never sub me out for more than five minutes. I score the most goals of any player on the team! How can you say I haven’t learned anything?”
Martie shook her head. “You haven’t learned the most important thing. That this isn’t a competition between you and your sister.”
Charlie gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right. We were playing great before—”
She stopped herself before she could say any more.
“Before what?” Martie asked curiously.
“Just before.”
Charlie might be angry with her sister, but she wasn’t a rat. If Martie found out about Noah and Krista, it wasn’t going to be because of her.
“You mean before… when you were getting all the glory and attention and Krista was sucking it up and letting you have it?” Martie asked.
Charlie frowned. “No, it wasn’t like—”
“Or before, when the Peanuts theme was blaring for you and Krista applauded along with everyone else, trying to support you when you wouldn’t give her the time of day?”
Charlie grimaced. “But she—”
“When are you going to realize that there’s room in the spotlight for both of you? That there’s enough of everything good to go around? It doesn’t have to be just one of you or the other.”
Charlie sat on the bed and placed her head in her hands. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Martie folded her arms across her chest. “Wouldn’t I?”
“No,” Charlie said. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have a perfect sister like Krista. Someone right next to you who is so pretty, so smart, so everything that no one even sees you. And when they do pay attention to you, they’re only doing it because they want to get close to her.”
Martie was quiet for a long time. Charlie felt like she might have upset her coach but didn’t know why. Martie should be happy she didn’t have a sister like Krista.
Finally, Martie spoke. “Did you ever read the book I gave you? To Kill a Mockingbird?”
Charlie blinked, confused. “What do you mean? I took the test. I got a B-plus—”
“I know, but you didn’t finish the book, did you?”
“No,” Charlie admitted. She sighed and stood up. “Look, Martie, are you letting me back on the team or not?”
Martie shrugged. “Finish the book and I’ll let you kno
w.”
Charlie gaped at her coach. “What? But I—I don’t have it with me.”
“Great. Even better.” Martie opened her closet and fished around in her overnight bag.
“Take my copy,” she said, handing an old, dog-eared paperback to Charlie. “I expect you to finish it before tomorrow’s game.”
Charlie stared at the book in her hands. “There’s no way I’ll be done with this by tomorrow night. And what does To Kill a Mockingbird have to do with soccer anyway?”
“Read it, Charlie. You won’t play until you do.” Martie opened the door to her room so that Charlie could walk through. “We’re done here. Now it’s up to you.”
Charlie sat in the lobby, book in hand. She didn’t see the point. What did some stupid book have to do with soccer or Krista or anything? And why was Martie making her read it? Either she should be playing in tomorrow’s game or going home.
A cool burst of air blew into the hotel as the glass doors opened. It was Noah, returning from a soda run.
Charlie quickly looked down, not wanting to make eye contact. She concentrated on ignoring him with every fiber of her being.
It didn’t matter. He took a seat next to her on the couch.
“So…” he said awkwardly.
Charlie snorted. She supposed he hadn’t known what else to say… but that’s what he had come up with? “So?” Brilliant.
“You talked to Martie, right?” Noah asked.
“Don’t worry,” Charlie muttered. “I didn’t say anything about your little secret with Krista.”
“That’s not why I’m asking,” he said. “But thanks.”
More silence. Charlie wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
“Listen, Charlie,” he continued, “whatever my relationship is with your sister, it doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you.”
Charlie squinted at her book, trying to appear like she was focusing on the words. “Uh-huh.”
“I believe in you. I think you’re the best player on that field. You play with your heart out there. If you’d just use your head a little more—look around, listen, not just when things are going well off the field, but every single time you set foot on that grass… If you do that, you’ll be the one with colleges banging down your door trying to sign you. You can’t let this stupid thing ruin all the hard work you’ve done all year—”
Pretty Tough Page 16