Regan Holder—accompanied, of course, by her ever-present posse of airhead girl-bots.
Regan looked Charlie over, then glanced at Pickle and Carla. “I see you have some new friends,” she taunted. “Do they—know about you?”
“Shut up, Regan,” Charlie muttered, clenching her fists.
“Or, wait. I know! They’re already on your team, right?” She laughed haughtily. The airheads joined in.
Charlie gritted her teeth. “Leave them out of this.”
“Fine, fine.” Regan put up her hands in surrender. “But they’re new. How long do you think it will be till they find out about you, Charlie Brown?”
Regan smirked and sauntered off down the hall. Charlie watched her go, then approached her friends.
“Who was that?” Carla asked, staring after the popular girls.
“No one,” Charlie muttered. “Don’t worry about them.” She turned to Pickle, took in her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry, Pickle,” she said. “You should have made it.”
Pickle nodded and grabbed her backpack. “I’m going to be late for World Civ,” she said softly. She slung her pack over her shoulder and disappeared into the sea of students making their way to class.
A pit formed in Charlie’s stomach on Pickle’s behalf. After riding to school with her every day and surviving hell week together, she knew how badly Pickle wanted on the team. And she had wanted it for the right reasons.
Carla nudged Charlie with her elbow. “What?” she asked, snapping back to reality.
“Did you see? Your name’s the first one on the list.”
Charlie looked up—squinted.
Charlie Brown.
Oh my God. Carla was right. It really was up there. Her name in all its ridiculousness was actually up there. First.
“We made it,” Carla said, sounding as shocked as Charlie felt. “Do you know what this means… ?”
Charlie stared at her name, unable to peel her eyes away. She knew exactly what it meant: she was on the team.
• • •
Krista wormed her way through the crowd of ecstatic or crushed hopefuls and gasped when she saw the list.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Krista spun around to face Charlie. “I can’t believe you made it.”
Charlie plastered on a fake smile. “Woo! Go, B-dub!” she said, overly enthusiastic.
Krista folded her arms in front of her chest. “Well, congratulations. You’ve proven your point. Now you can crawl back under whatever lifeguard station you hang out at and leave the team to the people who care.”
Actually, that had been exactly the plan, Charlie thought, but Krista would never know it. Because in that moment, Charlie made up her mind.
“You know what I’d rather do?” She moved closer so that she was right in Krista’s face. “Play soccer.”
Chapter Six
Despite joining the team out of pure spite, now that Charlie was a full-fledged member of the Beachwood girls’ soccer team, even she had to admit it was one of the best decisions she’d ever made—for the totally wrong reason. After the first week of official practice, Charlie was happier than she had ever been. It was becoming glaringly obvious to anyone in school which girls played soccer: they all had permanent shin guard tan lines. And for the first time, Charlie felt like a part of them. Like she had a group where she belonged.
She and Carla had three of the same classes together and often met up with Pickle in between. Lunch was spent at Charlie’s cafeteria table or on the grass in the quad. Some days Jen and Jamie ate with them. There was a freshman boy named Benji who Pickle constantly bantered with. Benji had taken a definite liking to Pickle and was always hanging around, cracking jokes and being the resident goofball. And although Charlie was hesitant to trust anyone after being so burned by Regan, she couldn’t help being excited about the turn of events in her life. Her days of feeling like a high school nobody were fading into memory.
Today, Charlie and Carla were hurrying to the locker room because they were meeting up with Pickle to go to the next Harry Potter movie.
As she changed back into her school clothes, Charlie could hear Krista babbling endlessly about the party she was going to tonight.
“There could be over two hundred people there,” Krista said breathlessly. “I think pretty much the whole school’s going.”
Charlie pictured a different time and place, some kind of alternate, parallel universe in which she and Krista got along—where instead of talking about a party in front of her as if she didn’t even exist, Krista would turn to her and say, “Charlie? You’re coming, right? To the party?”
Charlie would hesitate because she’d probably have lots of other plans, but Krista would insist. “You have to be there. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Charlie would agree to go. Krista would give her a ride, of course. They’d have the best time, and at the end of the night, when they knew they’d missed their curfew, they’d even sneak into the house together, making a pact not to let their parents find out.
They’d actually be like sisters for once instead of enemies.
But as she slipped her sweatshirt over her head and stuffed her sweaty soccer clothes into her duffel bag, she knew that conversation had about as much of a chance of happening as her becoming homecoming queen.
She rolled her eyes at her sister’s chattering.
“Where’re we meeting Pickle?” Carla asked.
Charlie grabbed her stuff. “Library. She was going to do homework until we finished.”
Suddenly, Martie poked her head out of her office. “Charlie, Krista? Can I talk to you guys for a sec?”
Reluctantly, Charlie walked in behind Krista and took a seat. She wondered if she was in some kind of trouble. In practice today, she was going hard for the ball when she made a slide tackle and “accidentally” nailed Krista in the shin. Krista had yelped in pain and muttered something under her breath. Charlie didn’t quite catch what it was.
“After today’s scrimmage, I’ve made a decision,” Martie explained. “Charlie, I’m moving you up to offense.”
Charlie gasped. “What? Offense?”
She couldn’t believe it. She’d always been a defender; she was a defender at heart. It fit her personality. Defenders, often overlooked and underappreciated, were the hardest workers on the team. They never got any of the glory. Fouls, slide tackles… they had to be tough, doing whatever it took to keep an opposing player from getting a shot on goal. They were blamed if the ball got through the defensive line but never praised. People only noticed when they screwed up. And the hardest-working defender of all was the keeper.
“You want me to move to midfield?” Charlie asked. Maybe midfield wouldn’t be so bad. It was at least better than—
“Actually,” Martie interrupted, “I want to move you all the way up. To center forward.”
“What?” exclaimed Charlie. “You want me to be…” She could barely say it. “A forward?” she whispered.
“What?” Krista echoed, horrified. “But center forward is my position. You can’t give it to—”
“I don’t want your stupid position!” Charlie interrupted.
Forwards were, by nature, glory hogs. Forwards got all the attention and praise. It was the forwards who people talked about after the game, the forwards who had their names printed in the paper. Which explained why Krista had been the forward of all forwards, the center forward, for three years running.
“Charlie, we need someone like you up there,” Martie said encouragingly. “You’re aggressive and tough. You don’t back down. We have two weeks until our first game; I’m still playing around with the lineups…. Just give it a try, okay?”
Charlie nodded meekly. Could she argue? She wanted to be in the starting lineup. If this was the only way…
“What about me?” Krista asked. “Where am I supposed to go?”
Martie answered simply. “The team’s old center mid, Morgan, graduated last year. There�
�s no one strong enough to take her place—except you. I want you to try out there.”
Krista perked up, surprised. “Really?”
Charlie shook her head, shocked. Unbelievable. Forwards had to rely on the center midfielder most of all. If she was center forward and Krista was center mid… ? One word came to mind: disaster.
Charlie couldn’t believe it. Krista might be a great player, blah blah blah, but she was literally the biggest baby on the field. Just today, she’d backed off from two headers that had clearly been hers, ones she might have even put inside the eighteen. The ball had been placed so perfectly that all she needed to do was stand there and it would have bounced off her perfect blond hair… but Krista had actually run away from it, leaving first Ruthie, then Heather to make crazy dives for the ball. Now Martie was, what? Rewarding her?
Charlie stared at her beaming sister and was disgusted. Center mid. The girl who played that position was usually the strongest, most technically skilled player on the team. She was the anchor of the offense, so the team’s scoring potential and strategy began with her. Did Martie really think Krista was the best choice? What about Carla? Or Jamie? Or one of the lunch ladies in the cafeteria?
Charlie felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. She hoped it was just a reaction to the chicken nuggets she’d scarfed down at lunch but knew better. It was the thought of working so closely with Krista that was making her sick.
On Monday afternoon at practice, once all their drills were complete, Noah handed out red and yellow jerseys for a scrimmage. After he handed Krista a red one, Charlie waited, thinking, Yellow, yellow, yellow. Please let me not be on Krista’s team.
But of course, Noah tossed a red one to her.
Her shoulders sagged and she glared at him. “Are you deaf?” she asked. “Didn’t you hear me thinking yellow?”
Noah gave her a friendly slap on the back. “Put it on. It’ll bring out your eyes.” Charlie laughed and slipped the jersey over her head, her fate decided.
At least it was Noah who was dooming her, Charlie thought. Since the first day of practice, he had encouraged her more than anyone else. Charlie felt, even though it sounded silly, like they had a special bond.
As soon as the scrimmage began, Charlie knew she was going to hate this new arrangement. The sound of Krista’s voice was grating on her as her constant chatter instructed Charlie what to do. Turn inside, mark so-and-so, pass back… It was like an endless phone conversation with Brooks—Krista never shut up!
And as the yellow jerseys scored against them not once but twice, Krista was becoming even more frustrated with the offense.
“Okay, you guys,” she said. “We need to connect and score here.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing?” she asked sarcastically. “I thought we were just supposed to boss people around instead of going for the ball. You know, like you’re doing.”
Krista glared at Charlie. “Why don’t you grow up?”
“Actually, I am,” Charlie retorted. “At a rate of about an eighth of an inch a year.”
“I am seriously going to kill you,” Krista said through clenched teeth.
Charlie laughed. “I’d love to see you try.” Martie blew the whistle. Charlie vowed that for the rest of the game, she would listen to Noah and Martie… and even Carla, who shouted instructions from the defensive line. The one voice she would tune out was Krista’s. She did, and the red team went on to win three to two.
It was the end of Krista’s first full week of center mid. She sat in Cam’s basement as he unbuttoned the top button on her white Abercrombie blouse.
“Cam, hold on,” she said.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
Krista sighed and sank into the couch pillows. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like everything.”
“Everything?” He laughed. “What’re you talking about? You’re, like, what, in the top ten in our class? You’re hot. And you just moved to the top spot on your team. Everyone knows you’re the best player….”
Not everyone, Krista thought. Martie and Noah barely gave her the time of day on the field—even in her new position. All Martie did was bark at her in the practices, and Krista was used to free-flowing praise.
Noah, on the other hand, seemed more occupied with Charlie than anyone else on the field. In his eyes, Krista felt, she might as well not even exist.
Moving to center mid was a victory. But with so little fanfare, it hadn’t felt much like one.
“C’mon,” Cam asked. “Half the people in school would kill to be you. What else do you want?”
Krista shrugged. Was it wrong that she wanted more? She wanted to be the team captain. She wanted to have no fear on the field. She also wanted Charlie off her team.
“It’s just my sister,” Krista explained. “She’s a crazy person on the field…. I feel like I’m competing with her every time we go out there. She’s always yelling at me for not going for the ball, which is totally untrue. Every time she speaks, I seriously feel like I’m going to go postal!”
“Kris—whatever,” Cam said compassionately. “It’s understandable that you’d be a little tentative.”
“I’m not tentative!” she snapped defensively. “I just play smart. Is it so wrong that I don’t want another ACL tear?”
“That’s what I was just saying,” Cam muttered.
For a moment, they sat in silence. After what Cam deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, he reached over and started kissing her neck.
Normally, Krista could lose herself in the feeling of it. But now, a million images flashed through her brain. Charlie on the field—brave and terrifying. Martie yelling orders. And Noah…
I can’t do this, Krista thought. Not right now.
She stood up. “Cam, I’m sorry. Our first game’s on Tuesday—I guess I’m just—I don’t know, distracted.”
Cam put up his hands, surrendering. “Fine, go.”
Krista was hurt. “I—I don’t want to leave…. I just wanted to talk.”
Cam looked at her. “We’ve been doing that all night.”
Krista searched Cam’s handsome face. He was right. Most people would kill to be her—especially right now, when she was alone with Cam.
“Fine,” she said, scooting toward him. “Then let’s do something else.” She planted a passionate kiss on his lips.
The next day, Martie gathered the team around after practice. It had been a long morning. While Noah had been cheering on Charlie and building her up, Martie wouldn’t get off Krista’s back.
“Krista!” she shouted. “Act, don’t react. Let’s go. Win those fifty-fifties.”
“You’re backing down,” Martie yelled five minutes later when Charlie beat Krista to the ball. “Be aggressive out there!”
Krista felt herself getting more and more frustrated with every word out of Martie’s mouth. God, did this woman just hate her? And what about Noah? It was like he was adding insult to injury, keeping his attention focused squarely on Charlie.
“Good, Charlie,” he called out when Charlie jumped for a header. Darcy blocked the shot. “Finish it now! Look for help! Ruthie—get in there.”
Krista stopped and stared at Noah. Was she invisible? She could have gotten in there.
“Krista,” Martie yelled, “this isn’t a water break.”
Krista resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wished she could grab the spare ball that sat on the sidelines and punt it right at Martie. She wished Martie came with a mute button.
But at the end of practice, Martie was still all talk. When she told everyone that she had a few important announcements, Krista knew what was coming. Their first game was only days away. Martie was going to announce the starting lineup.
Charlie bit her lip nervously as the team gathered around Martie. Reactions were kept to a minimum because the girls who made it didn’t want to rub it in anyone’s face. And the truth was that one week you could be a
starter and the next you could find yourself sitting on the bench for half the game. The lineup changed quickly because players’ abilities and team dynamics were changing as well.
“Starting keeper,” Martie called out, “Darcy Yankovich.” Darcy, an adorable freshman and a ruthless goalie, beamed proudly. Carla put an arm around Darcy and gave her a half hug. Charlie was too nervous to even look up. She stared at a rock on the ground.
“Sweeper will be Jamie Bonter. Outside backs, Erica Hananel and Julie Theiser. Stopper, Carla Hernandez.” Carla nodded and gave a half smile, trying to contain her excitement. The girl who played stopper was usually one of the strongest players on the team. It was her job to mark and block the best scorer on the opposing team. And although she was the first line of defense, she could at times come up and switch with the center midfielder, depending on the situation.
“Center mid, Krista Brown,” continued Martie. Charlie could just picture the smug look on Krista’s face.
“Right mid, Heather Edwards. Left mid, Buffi Long.”
Charlie wrung her hands nervously, still staring at the ground. This was it. She felt like her stomach was making its way into her throat.
“Right wing, Jen Schwartzott. Left wing, Ruthie Merle.”
Charlie’s heart was pounding so loudly she was sure everyone else could hear it. “And striker…”
Charlie Brown, Charlie Brown, Charlie Brown, Charlie thought. It was the one and only time Charlie had ever wanted to hear her name called out.
“Charlie Brown!”
Everyone applauded. Charlie felt a wave of relief and pride crash over her. She’d made it into the starting lineup—as the team’s starting striker! All the best players were in the midfield, and now she was one of them.
Finally, it was going to be her time in the spotlight. It was going to be her time to shine! She hadn’t even realized how badly she’d wanted this until it had happened. This year was getting better and better. For once, Charlie couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.
“Last,” Martie said, “I’d like to announce the team captain.” Team captain was always a senior, a girl who’d been on the team all four years… and although Krista had had to redshirt one season due to her ACL tear, she had technically been on the team the entire time. Charlie knew what was coming and was dreading it.
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