by Nancy Star
“You can’t worry about it if people get mad for silly reasons,” Annie said.
“I don’t want to practice with the Power,” Charlotte said. “I like my team.”
“Isn’t Winslow’s team supposed to be really good?”
“They’re awesome.”
“Don’t you think if you practiced with them you’d get to be awesome too?” They were back to this again.
“Maybe. But I like my team better.”
Annie decided to try a different approach. “Do you know a girl on the Power named Shelby?”
“Everybody knows Shelby. She’s going to be a famous soccer player someday.”
“Well, after watching you play today, Shelby begged her mother to invite you to play on the Power.”
“Really?” Charlotte seemed intrigued.
“Winslow sees your potential. Shelby sees your potential. You’ve got some real talent, you know?”
“What I know is, if I practice with the Power everyone on my team will hate me,” Charlotte said. “And I won’t have any friends.”
“That’s not true,” Annie said. “If you practice with two teams you’ll have twice as many friends.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Charlotte said.
“Winslow really thinks you’re a gifted player,” Annie said. “It would be a waste if you didn’t develop your gift. You have nothing to lose. Go to one practice. If you don’t like it, you never have to go again. Will you do that? For me?”
“Just one time?”
Annie nodded.
“Okay,” Charlotte agreed. She picked up her bag. “I’ll try it once. Can we go home now?”
As they walked out to the car, Annie smiled. Things might be going poorly at Hot Holidays and even worse than that in the land of Sondra, but today, at just twelve years old, Charlotte Fleming had been discovered.
Twenty-two
POWER POINTERS—September 1st!!! News of the Day
Congratulations to one and all on winning our first-ever Winslow West Soccer-Plex Tournament!
Please note: After the Winslow West Soccer-Plex’s official opening, tournaments will be scheduled every weekend! I am working very, very hard to make sure the level of competition is high!!! Stay tuned for our revised practice, scrimmage, game, and tournament schedule!!!!!
Blister Update: Several girls have come to me complaining about blisters! Remember, today’s blister is tomorrow’s callus! Wear them as the badges of hard work that they are!!!
Tournament Update: Several of you have not confirmed your reservations for the upcoming Labor Day Tournament! Please call Ken immediately to discuss your attendance! Please note: I am expecting one hundred percent participation!! Alert me immediately in the case of a death in the family!!!
Swimming Update: Several parents have inquired as to whether the motel has a pool. While the answer is yes, this does not mean players may swim in it. After careful consideration, Ken and I have decided there is to be no swimming permitted until after the tournament is over!
Departure Update: All families are to leave immediately after the tournament ends!! Players must be rested for the highly competitive scrimmage I have scheduled for Tuesday’s training session!!!
Training Update: To help our team improve focus, discipline, and unity, I am now requiring all players to purchase training uniforms, which will be available at the Winslow West Soccer-Plex store! See Vicki for size recommendations!
Special Notice For Great Play Goes to:
Evelyn—Your goal-scoring header in Game Three of the tournament caused gasps among the Winslow West Soccer-Plex trainers. At least we know someone has been busy practicing!! Good work, and bravo!!!
Shelby—I enjoyed watching your sharp back passes to Evelyn during the first and second games. As for the corner kick calamity, these things happen to even the best of players. I have no doubt you are already working hard to ensure that this embarrassing bumble does not occur again!!
Bobbi—Your save in game four was amazing to watch. As for the large bruise on your leg, please see Vicki as soon as possible. Bandages in team colors are now available in the Winslow West Soccer-Plex store!
Parent Update: Due to the intense planning necessary before each game, I am reminding all new, as well as all old, parents that I am unavailable for discussions on game day or any part of a game or tournament weekend or the two days directly preceding game days or tournament weekend, whether in town or away.
Furthermore, because I value open communication, I will be contacting you shortly to schedule a conference about your daughters’ progress and future!!
Good Luck to One and All from Winslow West!!!
Twenty-three
Her bad day started with a call to the Executive Health Services, the twenty-four-hour medical center Annie had been using for nearly twenty years.
She told the triage receptionist her problem—a twitch that had spread from one eye to the next and had this morning started up on her lip. “Did you ever hear of anyone having a lip twitch?” Annie asked.
The woman took down all of Annie’s information and then put her on hold for what felt like forever. Finally she came back.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re not in our system. Are you a new patient?”
“No, I’m an old patient,” Annie said. “Is it possible I’m listed in a different place?”
“There is only one place,” the woman said. “Why don’t you call back at nine o’clock and speak to one of our new-patient nurses. I’m sure they’ll—”
“You’re not listening to me,” Annie said. “I’m not a new patient.”
“Either way,” the woman snapped back, “I can’t help you. This is an emergency line for existing patients. You have a non-emergency situation, and as far as our records show, you don’t exist.”
The phone went dead. The woman had hung up.
Annie started to dial the number again but stopped herself. The woman was right. Her twitch was not an emergency. Getting to work late would be an emergency.
She crept out of the house without waking anyone, and made good time into the city. She got to the Zaxtec office just before six. Sondra came in at seven, agitated and unapologetic.
“I have really bad news,” she told Annie as they walked together to her office. “Ralph has been sea-cucumbered.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s an expression,” Sondra explained. “It means he’s useless to us.”
Annie wanted to tell Sondra that she knew what the expression meant because she had made it up. But she also knew that wouldn’t be helpful, so instead she asked, “What happened?”
“I don’t have the details yet,” Sondra said. “All I know is Scott is the new Ralph. But don’t ask me who Scott is. No one has a clue. Obviously, I can’t meet with you. Sorry.” She started scanning her BlackBerry emails. She noticed Annie hadn’t moved. “Did you need something?”
Annie handed over a folder of papers. “Here’s the draft of the outline for the video. It will only take a minute to read, and then I can get started on it.”
“I don’t have time to think about videos,” Sondra said. She offered Annie her hand. “Thank you very much.”
Annie did not like the sound of this thank-you. “For what?” she asked, keeping her tone light. “You mean for coming in this morning? Because I don’t mind. I understand. Stuff happens.”
Sondra smiled. “Yes. It does. That’s true. So long.” She gave Annie a little wave and left the room.
Annie used the train ride home to make lists of people to call to ask for work. She dredged up every name in her brain, filling up two pages in her notebook. She even added Roxanne, Crawford, and Biblow, because you never knew. She was going to write down Pederson, but then she decided the only kind of consulting he would consider would be from a caddy.
When she got home she was surprised to find Tim was there, working at the dining room table.
“Hi. What’s going on?” she asked.<
br />
“I’m going over to meet with Hank,” Tim said. “I’ve been making some notes.” He studied Annie’s face, like he was trying to figure something out. “We need to talk.”
“I’m here.” She sat down and braced herself.
“I’m bringing Hank a proposal,” Tim said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Part of my problem with closing Atlanta is that I don’t think it needs to be closed. I’ve worked up a new business plan for Hot Holidays—one that doesn’t require shutting anything down.”
“That’s great,” Annie said. “Would you like me write up a Context for Change outline for you?”
Tim held up a piece of paper. “Done.” Then he sighed. “The thing is, I don’t know if Hank is going to go for it. It’s so hard to tell with him, especially now. And in case you never noticed, he’s not a fire-aphobe. If Hank gets really pissed off, he’ll fire me.”
“I know,” Annie said.
“I’m aware that things aren’t going very well with your work right now,” Tim said. “But I feel like I have to do this.”
“Then do it,” Annie said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with whatever happens. Anyway, what’s the worst it could be?”
“I lose my job, you have no work, we lose our house, we use up our savings. We end up on the street,” Tim said.
“Right. Not the worst thing in the world.”
They gave each other weak smiles.
“We’ll get through this,” Annie told him.
“I know,” Tim said.
As soon as he left, Annie, nauseous and twitching, hurried to her desk to begin her cold calls.
Twenty-four
Could you please say Annie Fleming called,” Annie asked the first half dozen assistants.
“We worked together a bunch of years ago,” she told the next half dozen.
“The message is I need work,” she snapped to number thirteen on the list.
When the doorbell rang she leaped up as if she’d been rescued. Even a crowd of Jehovah’s Witnesses looking for converts would be a relief from her reject-athon of calls.
She opened the door to the confusing sight of Charlotte, just home from school, and Linda, her friend from work.
“Here I am,” Linda said. “Where are the trumpeters? Did you forget I was coming?” She saw Annie’s confusion. “You did. You forgot I was coming.”
“No,” Annie said. “Of course I didn’t.”
“Your mother has no idea how to lie,” Linda told Charlotte.
“Did you forget today is my first practice with the Power?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes,” Annie admitted, because Linda was right: She was no good at lying.
Charlotte ran upstairs to get her soccer gear. Linda circled the first floor of the house.
“So this is the suburbs. What do we do first? Take a tour? Drink a bottle of wine?”
Charlotte came zipping back down. “We have to go,” she told her mother. “I can’t be late.”
“We have to hurry,” Annie told Linda. “Charlotte is practicing with a very high level team. I don’t want to wreck the one thing that’s going right.”
“What does high level mean when you’re eleven?” Linda asked.
“I’m twelve,” Charlotte said as they climbed into the car.
“Which is old in soccer,” Annie added.
“Thank God I’m not in soccer,” Linda said.
Annie sped out of the driveway, backed up over the high spot on the curb and hit a tree. She hopped out, checked the car, saw there was no damage done, and got back in.
“Did you always drive like this?” Linda asked.
“No,” Annie admitted. “This is the new me.”
“I’m afraid of the new you,” Linda said, buckling herself in.
When they got to the Soccer-Plex, Charlotte hopped out of the car, slammed the door, and ran across the grass to the building.
“What is that thing?” Linda asked, eyeing the mammoth structure. “A space station? I can’t wait to see what it looks like from the inside.”
“We’re not going inside,” Annie said. “Parents aren’t allowed to watch.”
“What do you mean, not allowed?” Linda asked.
“I made the mistake of watching during tryouts, and I can’t afford to make that mistake again.”
“Why? What would happen?” Linda asked. “Never mind. I don’t care. Let’s go. You can tell me on the way back to your house.”
Annie didn’t move.
“Why aren’t you driving?” Linda asked.
“There’s not enough time,” Annie explained. “We’d just have to turn right around and come back.”
“So what are we going to do instead?”
“We’ll sit in the car,” Annie said. “So, what’s new?”
There was a knock on Annie’s window. She lowered the glass and saw Marilyn.
“Hi,” Marilyn said. “Charlotte told me you were still in the car. Aren’t you going to come in?”
Linda leaned over Annie and explained to Marilyn that they were not allowed to watch.
“Of course you’re allowed,” Marilyn explained. “Winslow loves his parents to watch. He just doesn’t want them to talk.”
“Oh goody,” Linda said as she got out of the car. “I’ve never been inside a space station before.”
“Linda,” Annie called.
But it was too late. Linda was rushing to the Soccer-Plex alongside Marilyn, giddily describing the details of her bus ride from the city.
When Annie caught up with them they had just gotten to the bleachers. Marilyn pointed Annie to the best seats and then left to attend to a disgruntled parent.
Linda surveyed the scene. “Why didn’t you tell me your life was filled with men in shorts?”
Annie glanced over to the field where Linda was staring at a group of the trainers. “Those aren’t men. They’re boys,” she said.
“Who’s he?” Linda asked, pointing to Winslow. “He’s not a boy.”
“That’s Winslow West,” Annie answered.
“The Winslow West?” Linda asked.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“I can read,” Linda said, gesturing toward the signs on the walls around the field.
Annie hadn’t noticed them before. The Winslow West Soccer-Plex. The Winslow West Soccer University. The Winslow West Summer Soccer School. The Winslow West Soccer Store offering a Wide Selection of Winslow West–Approved Apparel.
“He’s very cute,” Linda said.
“He’s also married,” Annie told her. “With a kid,” she added, for insurance.
“What about the one who’s talking right now?” Linda asked.
“That’s Parker, the head trainer.”
“Parker. Like the pen. That’s so cute. Is he married?” Linda asked.
“I have no idea,” Annie said.
Linda stood up, gave her tight skirt a quick tug, ran her fingers through her highlighted hair, and started the tricky business of negotiating the metal bleachers in high heels.
“Where are you going?” Annie asked.
“I’m going to ask Parker to show me where the ladies’ room is.”
“The bathrooms are out of order,” Annie told her, remembering the sign. She stood up. “I can take you home.”
“I don’t really have to go to the bathroom,” Linda said. “I just want to know where it is.”
Annie watched as Linda, looking lost, wandered over, as if by accident, to Parker. He stopped in the middle of a sentence to listen to her question. Linda gave him the full blast of her charm.
Winslow blew his whistle to signal the start of the scrimmage.
“So,” Marilyn said, taking a seat beside Annie. “I am really happy you convinced Charlotte to come to practice. Shelby is thrilled.”
Charlotte booted a ball from midfield for a first-minute goal.
“What a foot!” Marilyn said. “Does she ever pass?”
As if she’d heard the question,
Charlotte got the ball again and delivered it, like a present, to Shelby, who accepted the gift and kicked it hard into the corner of the goal.
Marilyn jumped up and gave a silent cheer. She sat back down. “Second goal in the second minute. Well done, Shelby,” she said under her breath. She turned to Annie. “Why is Charlotte not on this team?”
“Hopefully she will be next year,” Annie said.
Marilyn shook her head. “No. We cannot afford to wait.” She scribbled something on a small piece of paper and pressed it into Annie’s hand. “This is Winslow West’s private number. Up to now, I’ve been the only parent who’s had it. But Winslow asked me to give it to you. All you have to do is call that number and you can get Charlotte on the Power this season, no waiting.”
Charlotte won the ball and again delivered it to Shelby. Score.
Marilyn leaped into the air and mouthed, “Beautiful, Shelby.” She sat back down. “A word of advice. Don’t tell anyone about this conversation. Not everyone understands what’s involved in building a really great team.”
“Get the ball, Rose,” a man called out. He stood as close as he could to the sidelines, with his face pressed up against the netting that kept the balls on, and the parents off, the field.
“For example, Freddy,” Marilyn said quietly. “He wouldn’t understand one bit.”
“Get the ball before he takes you out of the game,” Freddy screamed.
“Will you excuse me?” Marilyn said. “Now that Vicki is in charge of the store, I’m in charge of the parents.”
“Freddy,” Marilyn called as she raced down the stairs. “I have something for you.” She pulled a lollipop out of her pocket. “Put this in your mouth, Freddy, so you don’t yell.”
When the scrimmage was over, and the girls were doing their cooling down stretches, Winslow walked over and sat beside Annie. He didn’t turn his head when he spoke. Anyone watching couldn’t be certain he was even speaking.
“Did Marilyn have a word with you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Annie said. She kept her eyes straight ahead too.
“Did she give you my private number?”
Annie opened the palm of her hand to reveal the slip of paper. “Yes.”