by Annie Bryant
All the BSG looked impressed. For someone who wasn’t the best of students, it was moments like these that made them realize that Maeve had a lot of common sense.
“But,” Avery had to add, “what if you like something that you are really bad at?”
“Well,” offered Katani in a serious tone, “I suppose you could work really hard at it, and you would definitely get better at it. But I don’t know if you would be as good as someone who was naturally really good at something and worked hard.”
At that point, Charlotte, Maeve, and Isabel had had enough. “Don’t worry about it,” they groaned. Avery had answered them with one of her now famous snurps (a combination of a snort and a burp), “I won’t.”
Anyway, Avery decided to take the refereeing course last summer. It had taken several weekends to get certified, but, by the end of the course, Avery had secured her first real job. She was a popular referee. Each game she reffed paid thirty dollars, and today she had already reffed two games. But Avery wasn’t really in it for the money. She would have done it for free. She loved soccer that much. And she liked to help the younger girls.
All of a sudden, Avery blew a short blast on her whistle and the game came to a halt.
“What just happened?” Katani asked. She had been daydreaming about how fun it would be to design a whole line of cute dog products. She could see it now: the Martywear Collection. Debuted at Fashion Week with Marty jogging down the runway in a groovy Martywear ensemble. Paparazzi everywhere—rock stars with their own little chihuahuas.
“Off sides,” Charlotte said.
“I think they’ve called a time out,” said Maeve.
“They don’t have time out in soccer,” answered Isabel.
A woman behind them jumped up. “Come on, let’s go!” the woman yelled. She was wearing a red sweatshirt with the words Megan’s Mom printed across the front.
The girls exchanged a look.
Katani checked her watch. The game was almost over. The score was tied. “I think they have to go into overtime. Because it’s the championships, it’ll probably be first goal scored wins,” Katani predicted.
“Watch this,” Charlotte said, taking advantage of the opportunity to try out one of her new tricks. She took one of the gold coins and passed it through her fingers from thumb to pinky and back again, over one, under the next, over and under again until she had done it several times.
“Whoa, I’m impressed. How did you do that?” Katani said, meaning it.
“Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” Charlotte said in a stage voice, and they all laughed. It was a quote from The Wizard of Oz, which Maeve’s father had screened for them over the weekend. They all agreed that they loved the movie, they were still afraid of the Wicked Witch of the West, and that “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too,” was one of the all-time great movie lines.
Katani, who claimed she had no acting talent, in fact did an awesome imitation of the Wicked Witch. Donning a witch’s mask and hat, Katani had scared them all by bursting into the Tower room one night at Charlotte’s as they lay sleeping, and cackling the famous line.
The girls screamed so loud that Marty ran and attacked the leg of Katani’s pants, shaking it back and forth and growling madly. Katani fell to the floor laughing hysterically. The other girls pummeled her with pillows so hard that one of them broke and the feathers burst out and floated throughout the Tower.
Mr. Ramsey, Charlotte’s dad, came running up to the room to see what was wrong. When he walked in, a feather fell right on his nose. He just stood there, nodding his head back and forth at the laughing witch on the bed and the feathers in the room. The girls went crazy and laughed even harder.
“Try not to wake up the whole neighborhood,” Mr. Ramsey said as he walked out of the Tower. “And…don’t let the bedbugs bite, girls.”
Ever since then, all Katani had to do was crouch over and begin to speak in her witch voice and Charlotte, Avery, Maeve, and Isabel would crack up.
CHARLOTTE, THE MAGICIAN
At the soccer game, it was about Charlotte and magic.
“Now you see it, now you don’t.”
Charlotte made a sweeping motion, and just like that, the old coin was gone.
“Et voilà!” said Charlotte in her best Parisian accent.
“Where did it go?” Katani laughed, checking her teacup.
“How did you do that?” Isabel seemed genuinely interested.
“Nothing up my sleeves,” Charlotte said, showing them.
“Hey, that was my coin,” Maeve said. She had loaned the coins to Charlotte a week ago.
“You mean this coin?” Charlotte asked, reaching into Maeve’s pocket.
“Or this coin?” Charlotte pulled another one from behind Katani’s knee.
“Or maybe this one,” she said, reaching into Isabel’s sleeve. She handed all of the coins back to Maeve. “Un, deux, trois,” Charlotte counted.
“Hey, I’m rich,” Maeve grinned.
“Where did you learn that trick?” Isabel was clearly fascinated.
“From my father’s friend Jacques in Paris. He used to be a magician before he gave it up to be a lawyer. He said the pay was better for lawyers. But it’s also in one of my magic books. I wasn’t this good at it before. The first time I practiced it, one of the coins landed in my dad’s soup. We were eating dinner at Le Languedoc, this really fancy Paris restaurant in the Bois de Boulogne, for his birthday. The soup splashed all over the tablecloth. The waiter screamed, ‘Oh, mon Dieu!’…He was not happy. The French are very serious about their food, you know,” Charlotte explained.
“Excellent coin-in-the-soup performance,” clapped Maeve.
“Well, I’ve been practicing a lot since then,” Charlotte said. “You know me,” she laughed. “I get totally into things.”
“That’s a sweet trick,” Katani said.
“Very cool,” Isabel agreed.
“Only a few seconds left,” Katani said, turning back as the game started up again.
Maeve handed Charlotte back the coins. “Keep them for a while,” she said.
Charlotte was about to put them back in her pocket when Megan’s mom popped up again, knocking the coins into the air. Charlotte caught one of them, Katani caught another, but the third one fell under the bleachers.
“No!” Megan’s mom yelled toward the field, oblivious to what she’d just done.
One of the Twisters had been running the ball toward the goal when a girl from the Tornadoes suddenly appeared and stole the ball. It was close to the line, but Avery’s whistle did not blow.
The whole Twisters’ bench stood to watch in horror as the Tornadoes’ player dribbled the ball all the way down to the other end of the field and scored the winning goal.
“No way!” Megan’s mother was already off the bench and on the field. “That ball was completely out of bounds!”
From where they were sitting, it was difficult to tell who was right and who was wrong. But Avery hadn’t called a penalty. And Avery knew what she was doing when it came to soccer.
Charlotte crawled under the bleachers to search for the coin. By the time she found it, there was a big commotion on the field. Megan’s mom was arguing with Avery, who was trying her best to stand her ground. And Megan’s mom was pretty scary with her yelling and her finger pointing right in Avery’s face. Avery looked very little standing next to her. Suddenly, both coaches were on the field and everyone was talking loudly at once.
“What’s going on?” Charlotte asked, poking her head out from under the bleachers.
Maeve had been totally focused on what was going on with the argument on the field. “Megan’s mom keeps yelling that Avery’s call was bad, that the ball was out of bounds, even though nobody says out of bounds in soccer.”
As Megan’s mom continued to shake her finger at Avery, Marty jumped off the bench, and, in a flash, was running toward the field barking his head off.
“Yikes,” said I
sabel as the girls began to chase after Marty, while poor Charlotte, who was still crawling through the bleachers and hurrying to catch up, caught her pants on the corner of the bleachers and ripped the seat of her jeans. Disaster! Underwear Showing Alert!
Great, another embarrassing moment in the life of Charlotte Ramsey. Why don’t we just hold up a sign. Well, no time to think about it now, Charlotte thought. Standing up, she took off her warm, cuddly sweatshirt and wrapped it around her waist. Life was about to get very cold, she realized as she climbed back up on the bleachers to see what was happening and felt the fall wind whipping through her light jersey…and her pants.
Maeve managed to catch Marty first and was doing her best to hold him still. He barked wildly at Megan’s mom, who was barking wildly at Avery.
“You better keep ahold of that vicious dog,” Megan’s mom yelled over to Maeve.
“Vicious dog! I don’t think so,” whispered Maeve furiously under her breath, but she did try to shush Marty.
It was easy to tell which girl was Megan. She was the Twister who’d had the ball stolen from her in the final seconds of the game. Even if Charlotte hadn’t seen the play, she would have been able to tell from the embarrassed look on the girl’s face as she listened to her mother rant on and on about how that ball was out of bounds, and how Avery had failed to make the correct call. Charlotte could tell that Megan wished she was anywhere but on that field.
“I feel really sorry for that little girl,” Isabel whispered to Katani. “I would totally die if my mother acted like that.”
“I know what you mean,” Katani whispered back. “This is one of those things that every kid lives in fear of…being embarrassed by your mother in front of hundreds of people. It’s like every kid’s worst nightmare!”
“That ball was clearly out of bounds,” Megan’s mother screeched. “You need to have your eyes checked. I think you need glasses!”
Uh-oh! The girls could see that Avery was really under some serious pressure here.
“You can’t be old enough to be a referee. How old are you?” Megan’s mom continued.
“Ma’am,” the Twisters’ coach said, raising his voice, “You need to calm down and take your seat right now. No parents are allowed on the field during a game.”
Megan’s mom opened her mouth to say something, but the Tornadoes’ coach interrupted her. “Ma’am, the goal was good. You know the rules. The ref calls the play. Please go back to your seat or leave the field,” the coach said firmly.
The next thing they knew, Megan’s mom turned on him. She apparently couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Well,” she sputtered angrily, “the soccer board will be hearing from me.” She grabbed Megan’s hand and dragged her humiliated daughter off the field.
“What just happened?” Avery asked in a bewildered little voice. “I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay, Avery,” the Twisters’ coach said before she could finish. “Some of these parents get really carried away sometimes. It’s totally inappropriate behavior…way out of bounds,” he added as he winked at Avery. “Although I wish it were different and we’d won the game, that ball was in. But even if you were wrong, the ref calls the play. That’s the way the game goes.”
Both coaches shook hands. Then they shook Avery’s. “Don’t let this discourage you, Avery,” the Tornadoes’ coach said. “You’re a terrific referee, and I will talk to the soccer board about what a great job you did today. If you’re worried, have your mother call me, and I’ll be glad to talk to her about all of this.”
Avery beamed. “That’s okay, Coach. I knew that reffing wasn’t going to be easy. But I didn’t think it would get this crazy.”
“Sometimes it takes people a long time to learn how to be a good sport,” the Tornadoes’ coach said.
Marty didn’t stop barking until Megan’s mom had driven away.
“You tell her, Mr. Marté,” said Maeve as she shook his little furry paw after Megan’s mom.
NO DOGS ALLOWED
After the game, Avery wanted to treat her friends to hot chocolates at Montoya’s, but first they had to stop at Charlotte’s house to drop Marty off and so Charlotte could change her pants. They all felt bad about leaving him. “If we were in Paris,” Charlotte said, “Marty could come.”
“That’s so cool,” enthused Avery, who had tucked Marty under her arm. “Let’s start a petition here. After all, dogs have rights, too!”
“You’ve gotta run for office someday, Avery,” cheered Maeve.
Avery grinned. “Maybe I will. Somebody’s got to save the planet from unfair rules…it might as well be me!” Then she smushed her face into Marty’s face, whereupon he gave her a big slurpy kiss right on her mouth.
“That’s so gross, Avery,” said Katani as she made a face. Katani was not a fan of slurpy dog kisses. Too undignified.
“Did you hear that, Marty? You have just been insulted,” Avery said to Marty as she scratched his tummy.
“He’ll get over it,” added Katani sarcastically.
Charlotte laughed. “Katani, you have to come to Paris. You would not believe how much people love their dogs there. They have better clothes for their dogs than even all those fancy movie stars do.”
Katani suddenly seemed interested. “You know, I was thinking of dog outfits at the game. Maybe I should design a few outfits for Mr. Marté here…maybe a little beret and sweater.” Avery looked skeptical, as if the idea of Marty in a designer beret didn’t quite sit well with her.
Charlotte, who had lived all over the world before she came home to Brookline, clapped her hands enthusiastically. She had lived in Australia, Africa, and most recently Paris. And even though they wouldn’t let dogs into the cafés here, she thought Katani’s idea was awesome. “Marty in a French beret and a sweater would bring a little bit of Paris here. I love it.”
Charlotte really liked living in Brookline, Massachusetts. The Beacon Street Girls were here, and it felt like home. And it was where she had lived when she was a little girl, when her mother was alive. Sometimes Charlotte and her dad would have breakfast on Newbury Street, Boston’s fashion center. Afterwards they would walk around the corner and look up at the apartment they had all lived in when Charlotte’s mom was still alive. It seemed to comfort them both.
Avery settled Marty into the colorful little doghouse Isabel had recently painted for him. It had a cut-out door so he could come and go whenever he wanted to, and fancy trompe l’oeil (which means “trick of the eye” in French) painted windows with curtains and a window box and cute little tulips and daffodils.
Avery thought it looked kinda girly for a boy dog, but Marty loved his little house. Over the past few weeks, he had dragged all his toys inside as well as a few other items he fancied, like one of Katani’s pillows…and an empty box of dog cookies.
Still, even though he loved his house, Marty didn’t want to stay there today. Determined to come along, he followed them to the door.
“Stay,” Avery said firmly. Marty hung his head and looked a little crushed.
“I’ll bring you back part of my buñuelo,” Isabel promised. Marty licked his lips.
Everyone laughed.
“Sometimes,” Isabel said as they turned to go, “I could swear that dog understands what we’re talking about.”
Avery stayed behind for a minute, tossing Happy Lucky Thingy, Marty’s most favorite chew toy, around with the “little dude” until he got tired enough from his favorite game to lie down and take a dog nap.
“There you go,” Avery said, putting Happy Lucky under his head like a little pillow. Before Avery reached the door, he was snoring softly.
“I wish I had a camera,” Maeve said, looking back through the doorway. “I think we should send this picture to a famous movie producer. He is too adorable for words.”
“Can’t you just see it? Marty riding in a limo, pulling up to the red carpet for Oscar night. It would be so cool.”
“Avery, you’re beginning to sound
like me,” Maeve laughed. Avery joined in. There were no two people who were less alike than Avery and Maeve. Maeve was all pink and flashy, while Avery was the sporty girl. It was amazing they were such good friends. But they were.
Montoya’s Bakery was warm and cozy. Steam streaked the windows. The whole place smelled of chocolate and cinnamon. Mouths watered before even ordering.
Avery ordered hot chocolate for her friends. Isabel had gotten everyone hooked on Montoya’s buñuelos, so they all chipped in and shared one, saving a tiny piece of it for Marty.
Nick Montoya, whose parents owned the place, brought the hot chocolates over to the table. Nick was so cute. Even if they didn’t have a crush on him, girls liked to drool over his big brown eyes, his black hair, and his friendly smile. The BSG felt lucky to get seats because it seemed like there were a zillion kids from Abigail Adams Junior High there.
Charlotte especially liked it when Nick was working. She remembered when Maeve told her that he was the cutest boy in the whole seventh grade. Maeve used to have a major freak-out crush on Nick. Charlotte did think that he had the most amazing eyes and a great smile. He was also really sweet and relatively easy to talk to.
But Charlotte just wasn’t sure she was ready for the whole dating thing yet. It seemed a little complicated. Less complicated to worship from afar, she thought. That way there were no totally embarrassing moments or awkward silences when neither of you knew what to say. Although she and Nick usually had a lot to talk about…you just never knew. Maybe later on the dating thing. But how much later?
“So, who won the game?” Nick asked Avery.
“The Tornadoes,” Avery answered. “By one goal in overtime.”
“Sounds exciting,” Nick said, smiling. “Those fourth-grade games can really blow you away.” Everyone knew he was joking.
“Actually, it was really exciting,” Charlotte said. “One of the soccer moms picked a fight with Avery.”