by Nancy Star
“Great! It will take some work to iron out the details. But I can do this if Charlotte wants it.”
“I’ll speak to her. And to my husband.”
“Of course,” Winslow said. “It should be a family decision.”
The girls were done. Charlotte raced over, sweaty and smiling.
“Hello, young Miss Fleming,” Winslow said. “That was quite an impressive job you did out there today. Did you manage to have any fun? Any fun at all?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said. “I had a lot of fun.”
“You’re not just saying that to be polite?”
“No,” Charlotte said.
“You mean you’re not polite?”
“I am polite,” Charlotte said.
“Of course you are. I’m just having fun with you. But you knew that, didn’t you?” Winslow gave her a huge warm smile and a quick tap on the top of her head. “Keep up the good work.” He hustled down the bleachers to join the large group of parents who had assembled, waiting for their turn with him.
Charlotte talked the whole ride home. The girls were awesome. They had such good skills. She had learned so much. Every kid was nice.
“I’ve got some great news,” Annie said as she turned into their driveway. “Winslow wants you on his team. What do you think about that?”
“You mean for next year?” Charlotte asked. She looked around, confused. “What happened to your friend Linda?”
Annie had forgotten all about Linda. She zoomed out of the driveway, hit the tree, checked the car, got back in, and twenty minutes later pulled into the Soccer-Plex lot.
As they walked inside, Roy, the plumber, looked up from unpacking his toolbox. His eyes went right to Charlotte’s shin guards and cleats.
“Are the Asteroids practicing here today?” he asked. “Because I don’t think Nadine knows about it.”
“No,” Annie said. She peered through the small window into the office where Winslow was talking on the phone.
Winslow met her eyes and gestured that he’d be out in one moment.
“She sure looks like she’s got practice,” Roy said.
“She practiced with the Power earlier today,” Annie explained.
Winslow joined them in the hall. “Everything all right here?”
“Everything’s fine,” Annie said. “Except I’ve misplaced my friend.”
“Oh, dear,” Winslow said. “That won’t do. She’s not with me. Have you got her, Roy?”
“The new girl practiced with you today?” Roy asked, pointing at Charlotte.
“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” Charlotte said.
“The bathrooms are out of order,” Roy said. “No one’s in the bathrooms. Winslow, I need to talk to you.”
“Where exactly did you lose her?” Winslow asked Annie, hoping Roy would give up and go away.
“She went to talk to Parker,” Annie said.
“Ah,” Winslow said. “Now everything becomes more clear. I’ve been trying to reach Parker for the past half hour but he’s not answering his cell. I suppose that gives us both our answer. My guess is your friend is with my friend.”
“Where are they?” Charlotte asked her mother as they headed back to the car.
“They went on a date,” Annie said. “So did you think about it? Don’t you think it would be great to switch onto Winslow’s team?”
“Switching isn’t allowed.”
“Normally, that’s true,” Annie said. “But Winslow explained he was going to make an exception for you.”
“I don’t think there should be exceptions,” Charlotte said. “I think there should be one team, and all the girls could play on it together, and both coaches could coach us.”
“That’s a really good idea,” Annie said. “But that might take some time to work out. In the meantime, what do you think about switching?”
“Everyone on my team would be mad at me if I did that.”
“Believe me, anyone on your team who got a chance to do this would do it in a blink,” Annie said.
“I’m not that good,” Charlotte said.
Annie studied her daughter. As a little girl she had possessed such confidence. What had happened?
“Charlotte, the Power is the best team around. You should shoot for the best. If you want my opinion—”
“I know what your opinion is,” Charlotte interrupted.
But it wasn’t just an opinion. Annie had made up her mind. She was not going to let her daughter pass up an opportunity for success. Like it or not, Charlotte was going to move up.
Twenty-five
When did you invite the new girl to start practicing with you?” Roy asked.
What a nuisance, Winslow thought. “How is the plumbing coming, Roy? Are we on schedule?”
Roy was not going to let him weasel out of this again. “Did you forget our conversation about Nadine training with you? It’s okay if you did. She can start tomorrow. What time are you planning on practicing tomorrow?”
“You know, Roy, you and I have something in common,” Winslow said. “We both have one-track minds. Right now my mind is on the bathrooms.”
“Really? Well, my mind is on my daughter. Because yesterday I looked her in the eye and said you told me she could start practicing with your team. So when do you want her to start? Tomorrow? Next week? You tell me.”
Winslow studied his shoes. “You shouldn’t have told her that, Roy.” He met Roy’s eyes. Roy looked away. “You and I both know I never said anything of the kind.” He needed to make Roy disappear. “Let’s be honest with each other, shall we?”
“That’s all I’m asking,” Roy said.
“The Power is like . . .” Winslow searched for an example Roy could understand. “A heating system. When you install a heating system, you have to make sure all the pipes are the best pipes for the job. But you also have to make sure that the pipes are going to fit together. If they don’t fit together the system doesn’t work. You get leaks. Insufficient heat. The system breaks down. Do you see?”
“Nadine is no leaky pipe.”
“Of course not. Your daughter is a very good player. A very, very good player.”
“That’s all I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“I’m just not sure she fits on this team at this time.”
“Is it because she’s a little heavy? Because I don’t think having a lot of muscle mass is such a bad thing for a player in her position.”
It was time for a different approach. “Here’s my problem, Roy. Nadine is a top-notch player. And for that reason I cannot pull her off the Asteroids right now. She is the key to their future success. The soccer board would have my head if I stole her away from her team. Now next year, that’s a different story.”
“That’s what you said last year. That’s what you say every year.” His wife was right. It was a hundred percent bullshit. Winslow wasn’t even trying to look like he meant it.
“You told me Nadine could train with you this winter,” Roy said. “Those were your words. Are you going to do the right thing or not?”
“The problem is I have to do the right thing for all the girls on all the teams. Otherwise my team wouldn’t be a team worth Nadine’s time.” Winslow liked that one. He’d have to use it more often.
He put an arm around Roy’s shoulder. “Next year is the critical year in terms of player development. When a girl turns thirteen, everything changes. I promise you, next year I’ll be losing several players. It’s practically guaranteed. The middle schools are all starting soccer programs now. And they’re working hard to convince top players like ours that their programs will better help them get ready for the high school teams.”
“I’ve heard that,” Roy admitted.
“Of course the girls are already brainwashed about high school soccer,” Winslow went on, happy to move the subject in another direction. “Every year I hear more and more parents sing the same little ditty about how everyone tells them the high school girls love playing soccer f
or their school team. But don’t believe a word of it. Those teams are like nursery schools. They might as well just give the players teddy bears to kick around. They shouldn’t be allowed to call it soccer. Which is why my players will stay with me throughout their entire soccer careers. But you already knew that, Roy, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Roy said.
“Now, the bigger question is, will the bathrooms be ready by the time Nadine turns thirteen?” Winslow laughed at his cleverness.
The first thing Roy saw when he walked into the rubble of the girls’ bathroom was a woman’s high-heeled shoe, dark brown, looked like suede. Then he saw the legs.
It took a minute for the woman to notice him, but once she did, she started pounding the guy who was on top of her with her fist. It took the guy a little while to realize they weren’t punches of passion.
“Someone’s here,” she said and hit him harder. “Hey. Someone’s watching us.”
The guy turned around.
It was Parker. “Would you mind running along now?” he said, like he was talking to a two-year-old. He turned to the woman. “Don’t mind him. He’s just the plumber.” He turned back to Roy. “Are you still here? Do you enjoy hanging around in toilets watching other people? We’ve got a name for people like you. Does the word pervert ring a bell?”
The woman laughed.
Roy headed for the door, making sure to step on both of the brown suede shoes on his way out.
“Hey, Lurch,” the woman called after him, “watch where you’re walking.”
“Probably has a thing for shoes as well,” Parker said.
“Are the toilets ready?” Winslow called after Roy as Roy stomped down the hall.
“Roy? Where are you going? Is there a problem?”
Roy just kept walking.
Winslow shrugged, happy to be done with him.
Twenty-six
Winslow lay in bed, strategizing. The problem was they were at the maximum number of players now. The only way the soccer board would give approval for taking on the Fleming girl was to get another girl to go.
He quickly corrected his thought: He’d have to allow another girl to go. A girl would have to request to be released. But who?
Vicki came out of the bathroom. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Do you think Dinah’s enjoying the team?”
“Never, ever ask me that question again.” Vicki got into bed, turned off the lamp, gave Winslow her back, and fell right to sleep.
Winslow got up, lumbered down the stairs, and paced from room to room. It was a puzzle. That was all. And puzzles had solutions, didn’t they? All he had to do was find it.
He went into his study, turned on the computer, and logged onto the soccer forum. It had been almost six hours since the last time he’d checked the posts. For him, that was something of a record.
He lectured the parents about this all the time. He’d made announcements on the subject at several team meetings. This was something they all must avoid. Reading the posts, he told them again and again, was bad for team morale. The idiotic threads were crude and angry and often about them. He did not want his parents goaded into sending back their own churlish replies.
Yet he couldn’t help but look himself. When he was home he checked at least a dozen times a day. He would have checked more frequently if Vicki hadn’t become his shadow, standing beside, behind him, around him all the time.
He clicked to the comments and read. It took nearly an hour to skim the most recent threads. When he heard the creak of the floorboard—Vicki creeping down the stairs to find him—he quickly tapped a key and turned the computer screen black.
“Why are you up?” Vicki asked.
“I couldn’t sleep. Thinking about the team. You know.”
“You can’t expect to win every game,” Vicki said. “No team can win every game.”
“Do you think that’s what’s keeping me awake? Worrying about winning?”
“No,” Vicki said. “I know. It’s the parents.”
“Exactly,” he hissed. “The parents.”
“You know, if you think about it—”
“Because the girls work very hard,” Winslow said. “The girls respect what I’m trying to do.”
“Sometimes I think—”
“But the parents just complain. You do know what the real problem is, don’t you?”
“The parents,” Vicki recited by rote.
“The bottom,” he said.
“The bottom of—”
“Exactly,” Winslow said. “The parents of the girls at the bottom pull us down with their picky little needs. She can’t be there Sunday,” he said in his high-pitched imitation of a mother. “Little Gwen needs to see her poppy. He’s ill, you know. We don’t know how much longer we’ll have our poppy.”
“It’s—”
“Or the tournament is too far. Or the game time is too early. Or there’s too much weather. Too hot, too cold, a sprinkling of snow, a drizzle of rain.”
“People are—”
“I’m not playing someone enough. I’m playing someone too much. I’m telling you, Vicki, they’re pulling us down.”
“And you work so hard.”
“I do. I work so hard.”
“Maybe there’s a way Dinah can help with—”
He held up his hand, to quiet her. Her advice was not what he needed now.
“We have to look at this thing dead on. If I don’t do something soon, I’m going to start losing my top.”
“You’re not going to lose your mind,” Vicki said.
“I am not talking about losing my mind,” he snapped. “I’m talking about losing my top players.”
“Oh.”
“You know when this started, don’t you? It was exactly two years ago, the day I allowed Elisabeth and Isabelle to leave the team.”
“Their family moved away, Win. What could you do?”
“We should have offered to let them live with us. They wanted to, you know.”
“They were ten years old,” Vicki reminded him. “Ten-year-old kids have to live with their parents.”
“They were twins,” Winslow said. “They would have had each other.” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters now is that if Shelby leaves, it’s over. It’s like dominoes. Shelby leaves, then Evelyn leaves, and before you know it, all the talent is gone. And what are we left with? A team of empty pants.”
“I don’t think Shelby’s going anywhere. And even if she did, you’ve got a lot of good players. I was just telling Dinah—”
“Please. Do not try to change the subject. I fully grasp the situation. And I can fix it. I have a plan. I’ve found the player.”
“You mean Tia?”
“God, no. Tia, it turns out, is not the real deal. I’m talking about the real deal.”
“But with Tia you’re at your limit. You have a full squad. You’re not allowed any more players,” Vicki said.
“That’s true,” Winslow admitted. “However—what if a family decided they wanted to withdraw their daughter from the Power?”
“That would never happen,” Vicki said.
“But what if?”
“Well, if a girl wants to be released from the team there’s no way we can stop her.”
“Exactly,” Winslow whispered. “If a player leaves us we have no choice. We are compelled to fill the void.”
“But who would voluntarily leave the team?” Vicki asked.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
She studied him for a moment. “Were you just online reading the soccer posts?”
It was frightening, how well she knew him.
“Winslow,” Vicki said. She walked behind him and dug her fingers into the walnuts of tension in his shoulders. “What did you read?”
“I read a very nice compliment about me. A very, very nice compliment.”
“Really?” She dug her thumbs even deeper. “Who was it from?”
“It
was signed ‘Rival Coach,’ but I know who that is.”
“You do? Who?”
“I’m fairly certain it’s that fellow Vincent, from Brookvale. Vincent has been very impressed with me lately.”
“Wow. A compliment from Vinnie. That doesn’t happen every day,” Vicki said.
“I hope it never happens again.”
“Why? You shouldn’t be so modest.”
“It has nothing to do with modesty,” Winslow said. “It’s envy I’m concerned about. I get one small compliment and suddenly dozens of jealous, small-minded people crawl out of their holes to write posts that are insults, smears, slurs.”
“That’s horrible.” When Vicki had written the anonymous post she had never considered that it might inspire insults and slurs. “You have to write the next Power Pointers bulletin about this. You have to forbid everybody on the team from ever looking at that Web site again. You have to threaten them, Winslow. It’s the only way.”
“It wasn’t someone on the team who wrote those awful things,” Winslow said. He narrowed his eyes. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Forbid it. Come right out and forbid it. They listen to you.”
“Do you think it could be Doug?” Winslow asked. “Doug’s been quite the loose cannon lately, carrying on about Gwen not getting enough playing time. Or could it be Freddy? Freddy is just the type to do something like this, isn’t he?”
“Threaten immediate expulsion. No second chances. Tell them, if you post something on the soccer forum site your child is off the team. End of story.”
“That’s a very good idea.”
“You write it,” Vicki said. “I’ll type it and give it out at practice tomorrow.”
“All right. I will.”
Vicki yawned. “Come on up, Winslow. I’m exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”
“Not now, darling. I’m not tired.”
He’d hadn’t been tired for nearly a year now. Vicki was keeping track. “Come anyway.” She pulled at his hand.
“I’ll be up in a bit. I want to work on the bulletin while my thoughts are still fresh. And I have to finish planning how to get Charlotte Fleming on our team. You do remember her, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Vicki said. “She’s the one I told you about at tryouts.”