Hat Trick

by Alex Morgan

  “I love it!” I said. “How about on Friday? There’s no soccer practice, is there, Jessi?”

  Jessi checked the schedule on her phone. “We’ve got the afternoon off to celebrate Emma.”

  “We could go to the mall for the afternoon,” I suggested. “And go to all your favorite stores and eat at your favorite place in the food court. What do you think, Emma?”

  Emma lifted her head off the table. “Can we go to the arcade, too?”

  “Of course!” Jessi said.

  “And Yum Yum Yogurt?” Emma asked.

  “Definitely!” I laughed.

  “I’m going to create an event for us on MyBook and give it the hashtag #EmmaIsExcellent,” Zoe said.

  Emma smiled for the first time that day. She might not be playing soccer with us for a couple of months, but no matter what, we’d always be there for one another.

  After school on Wednesday, Mom drove me and Jessi to my house so we could get ready and she could bring us to our first winter league practice on time. It was a bright and sunny day, 70 degrees, and I still couldn’t get used to the idea that this was a “winter” league. Winter in Connecticut was gray and cold, not bright and sunny.

  Jessi and I bounded upstairs to change into our practice clothes.

  “I’ll take the bathroom,” Jessi said, and I got changed in my room.

  For soccer practice I wore a T-shirt and shorts. For games the Kicks uniform was blue and white. I wondered what color the Griffon uniforms would be. A griffon was a mythical beast that was half lion and half eagle, which was pretty cool. But I would miss our kangaroo mascot just as much as I would miss wearing Kicks blue.

  I sat on the bed to put on my socks. In the Kicks we all wore striped socks and did a sock swap before each game. I had a feeling that there wouldn’t be any sock-swapping in the winter league, but I put on my striped socks anyway, even though it was just a practice day. They had always brought me luck.

  Jessi knocked on the door. “You ready?”

  “Yup!” I answered. “Let’s do this!”

  My right leg bounced up and down with excitement in the Marshmallow as Mom drove us to the Pinewood Rec Center. Jessi and I practically bolted out of the car as soon as Mom pulled up.

  “Pick you up at six,” Mom said. “Have a good practice!”

  Jessi and I both thanked her, and then we jogged up to the field, toward the other girls on our team. The other players were warming up by dribbling and passing the ball. A woman with spiky dyed blond hair was standing on the sidelines, watching them with hawk-like eyes. She wore a pink, white, and blue T-shirt that said GRIFFONS on the front.

  “That must be our coach,” I said.

  “She looks tough,” remarked Jessi.

  “Well, looks can be deceiving, right?” I said. “At least, I hope so.”

  But we learned pretty quickly that Jessi was right. At four o’clock on the dot, the coach blew a whistle.

  “Line up, please!” she barked.

  She had the kind of voice that got you moving. We lined up along the field and faced her.

  “I’m Coach Darby,” she said. “Please go down the line and tell me your name and what position you played on your school team.”

  Jamie from the Riverdale Rams had scored the first-place line position.

  “Jamie Quinn, forward!” she said.

  I listened as the other girls spoke up. There were eighteen girls on the team, but besides Jamie and Mirabelle, the only other girls I knew were Zarine and Sarah from the Kicks. I started to feel a little bit nervous. Some of the girls were taller than I was, and I’m pretty tall. What if they were all better players than I was?

  Then came my turn.

  “Devin Burke, forward,” I said.

  Jessi started to speak next to me, but Coach Darby held up her hand.

  “Devin, are those regulation socks you’re wearing?” she asked.

  I looked down at my striped socks. I could feel my cheeks turn red.

  “No, Coach,” I replied.

  “Well, those socks are ridiculous. White socks only for practice, and regulation socks for games. Got it?” she said.

  “Yes, Coach,” I said, feeling my cheeks get even redder. Luckily, that was all she had to say about my socks. She nodded for Jessi to continue.

  “All right, team,” Coach Darby said when everyone had finished. “Let’s get warmed up.”

  Coach led us in some stretching exercises, and then we did some squats and push-ups. I’d been expecting that. But what she said next surprised me.

  “We’re going to scrimmage, nine on nine,” she told us. “I want to see how you look on the field. I heard a lot of you say you played forward on your school teams. Well, the Griffons will have two forwards, and not all of you will get to play it. I need forwards who are confident on the field and not afraid of the ball.”

  “Two forwards?” I whispered to Jessi. On the Kicks we’d always had three. So that meant we’d have four midfielders and four on defense. With our goalie, we’d have the standard eleven players on the field each game.

  “All right, count off by twos!” Coach Darby ordered.

  We counted off and then split up into two teams for the scrimmage. I gave Jessi a sad little wave as she jogged off to join the opposite team.

  Coach assigned us positions.

  “Jamie, Devin, play forward,” she said, and I felt pretty good about that. She wouldn’t have let me start at forward if she didn’t think I could do it, right?

  That must mean she’s not too mad about the socks, I reasoned, and I jogged onto the field with confidence. Mirabelle was on my team for the scrimmage, and she gave me a nod as I passed her.

  “Mirabelle, take center and kick off,” Coach Darby instructed, and we all took our places on the field.

  Mirabelle kicked it deep into the opponent’s side, and Jamie and I ran toward the goal. Jessi got control of the ball, but Jamie shot up to her like a streak of lightning and kicked the ball away from her. I saw Jessi grab her side, like she had been hurt.

  Jamie charged toward the goal but got blocked by a defender. I ran up toward her as fast as I could.

  “Jamie! I’m open!” I yelled, but Jamie did a fancy move where she turned her back to the defender and dribbled the ball to the side. It looked pretty impressive, but a girl with short hair on Jessi’s team swooped in and stole the ball from Jamie.

  Mirabelle got the ball from her and kicked it to me. I charged down the field, my heart pounding. I had a clear shot at the goal, but I needed to get closer. Then, out of nowhere, I felt something push into my side.

  I stumbled and lost control of the ball. I expected to see someone from Jessi’s team—but it was Jamie!

  Jamie caught up to the ball and took it to the goal. She shot it right past the goalie into the net.

  I felt a wave of anger rise up inside me, and I looked at the coach. My own teammate had just pushed me and stolen the ball. That wasn’t how the game was played. Hadn’t Coach Darby seen what Jamie had done? But the coach was beaming.

  “Nice hustle, Jamie!” she called out.

  I couldn’t believe how unfair that was. After we reset the ball at midfield, I was so focused on being angry with Jamie that I didn’t even notice a forward from the other team whiz past me.

  “Look alive, Devin!” Coach Darby barked, and I sprang into action.

  I got control of the ball a few more times during the scrimmage, but I managed to score only once. If I saw Jamie was free, I’d pass it to her, because that’s how teamwork is supposed to work. But Jamie took the ball away from me two more times! And besides Mirabelle, none of the other midfielders passed me the ball. They all kept trying to score goals—probably to impress the coach, I guessed.

  Coach Darby blew a whistle at the end of the scrimmage. Our team had won, thanks to
three goals by Jamie. Coach had us line up again.

  “I saw some fearless players out there,” she said. “Jamie, Kelly, Stephanie, and Sasha, you four really impressed me. The rest of you need to give me more.”

  I was sweating. I could feel every muscle in my body. What more did she want me to give her?

  We did some basic drills for the rest of practice, and then lined up to get our uniforms—which were pink, white, and blue, just like Coach’s T-shirt. After Coach dismissed us, Jessi and I walked toward the parking lot.

  “What was Jamie doing out there?” Jessi asked. “You saw her elbow me, right? And I saw her keep stealing the ball from you.”

  “I know,” I said. “Unbelievable. And even more unbelievable is that Coach Darby didn’t notice.”

  “Maybe she did, and she doesn’t care,” Jessi said. “I’ve heard some coaches are like that. All those girls she called out were really aggressive on the field.”

  I sighed. “I guess I can forget about playing forward on this team. I’ll be lucky if she even starts me. I can play hard, but I’m not ever going to get that aggressive.”

  Then we heard a voice behind us.

  “You’re good, Devin. Just keep doing what you do, and it will work out.”

  We turned to see Mirabelle there.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I’m not so sure that it will work out.”

  “That’s what I thought when I transferred to Pinewood,” Mirabelle said. “There are a lot of strong players on that team, and a lot of girls better than me. But I didn’t let that stop me. It just made me work harder.”

  And then she walked off.

  “Is it just me, or is she getting nicer?” Jessi asked.

  I nodded. “Not warm and fuzzy, but definitely nicer,” I said. “Too bad we can’t say the same about Jamie.”

  “You mean Jamie, star forward of the Gilmore Griffons?” Jessi asked, her voice full of sarcasm.

  “Yes, that Jamie,” I said with a sigh.

  Then the Marshmallow pulled up, and Jessi and I climbed in.

  “How’d it go?” Mom asked.

  “Good,” I said, but inside I wasn’t so sure. In fact, I was starting to wonder if joining the winter league had been such a good idea!

  “All right, girls, listen up,” Coach Darby said at practice Thursday afternoon. “We’re going to split up for another scrimmage. I saw some great aggressive playing at practice yesterday. Today I want you to direct that energy at the opposing team, not your own teammates. Got it?”

  Most of the players nodded, and I looked at Jessi and raised my eyebrows.

  “Does this mean it will be an easier game?” I whispered.

  “Maybe,” Jessi whispered back.

  But of course it wasn’t. Jessi and I ended up on the same team with Jamie, and Sasha and Kelly were on the other team. Jamie listened to Coach, and even though she got close to me a few times, she didn’t steal the ball.

  The other team, though, was brutal. Sasha was trying to get the ball from me when she accidentally kicked me in the leg! It really hurt, but I didn’t want Coach to see that it bothered me, so I kept playing.

  “All right, give me three laps!” Coach Darby called out when the scrimmage ended. “And I want to see you hustle!”

  Jessi let out a low groan next to me as we fell in line with the other girls on the team and started to run around the track. I looked down at my calf and saw a yellow bruise forming. “These practices are inhumane,” Jessi complained, running next to me.

  “Well, maybe it will get better when we’re all playing together against another team,” I said. “We can set loose Jamie and Sasha and Kelly against our enemies.”

  “If they play like that in a real game, they’ll be getting penalties all the time,” Jessi pointed out. “And besides, what if the other teams play like that against us?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “Well, I guess it’s a really competitive league,” I said. “We’re in for a lot more bruises before the season is over.”

  “Yeah,” Jessi said with a sigh.

  Coach Darby dismissed us after our laps. Jessi and I walked toward two of the other players—Janet and Courtney.

  “See you Saturday,” I said, smiling. But they didn’t answer me, or even smile back.

  I shook my head as we passed them. “There is no teamwork on this team either,” I said. “It feels familiar. Remember on the Kicks, when the eighth graders were ignoring the seventh graders?”

  “This is even worse,” Jessi said. “Because nobody is sticking together.”

  “Except us,” I said.

  Jessi grinned at me. “Except us.”

  Then I heard a familiar beep, and I took my phone out of my sports bag. It was a text from Emma.

  Can’t wait for the mall tomorrow!

  I texted her back. #EmmaIsExcellent.

  Emma simply replied:

  I gave her a right back. The Kicks might not have been a team right then, but that didn’t mean we weren’t still the Kicks. No matter how tough it got on the Gilmore Griffons, I still had my friends.

  The next day at school seemed to go by sooooo sloooooowly, because all I could think about was going to the mall with my friends. It wasn’t that I was in love with the mall or anything, but I missed seeing my friends at Kicks practice every week. I knew we saw each other at school, but it wasn’t the same thing.

  So when the last bell rang on Friday, Jessi, Zoe, Emma, and I raced out the door to Jessi’s mom’s minivan.

  “Wow, you guys have lots of energy,” Mrs. Dukes said.

  “It’s Emma energy,” Zoe told her. “We’re celebrating Emma today.”

  “Oh, is it your birthday, Emma?” Jessi’s mom asked.

  “Nope,” Emma replied cheerfully. “It’s because I’m a loser!”

  “Emma, that’s not true,” I said.

  “Well, technically it is,” Emma said. “And anyway, I don’t mind. If I get an Atomic Burrito out of all this, then I will embrace my loserness!”

  “I don’t even think that’s a word,” I said.

  “Well, it is now!” Emma said.

  Then all our phones made a noise at the same time. We all checked to see a text from Frida.

  Sorry I can’t be there. Busy on set!

  And she’d sent a picture too, of her and Brady McCoy drinking out of a soda can with two straws in it and making funny faces.

  “Oh my gosh!” Emma squealed. “Look how close her lips are to his!”

  “I think they’re just goofing around,” I said.

  Emma sighed. “I wish I could goof around with Brady McCoy like that.”

  Mrs. Dukes dropped us off in front of the Sun Center mall. We walked through a row of palm trees to the entrance.

  “Where to first?” I asked.

  “Sports World!” said Jessi and Zoe.

  “Cute Emporium!” said Emma at the same time.

  She turned to Jessi and Zoe. “Uh-uh. No Sports World today. We’re here so I can forget about not making the soccer team, remember?”

  “You’re right!” Zoe said, linking elbows with Emma. “Cute Emporium it is!”

  I didn’t go to Cute Emporium a lot, but it was like the store had been created especially for Emma. Everything the store sold had a supercute animal face on it—big eyes and a little pink nose. Adorable faces stared out at us from mugs, notebooks, T-shirts, backpacks, and just about any other item you could think of.

  Emma made a beeline for an alarm clock with a spotted fawn on it.

  “Sooooo cute!” she said. “Almost as cute as Brady.”

  Zoe groaned. “I know this is your day, Emma, but do you think we could get through this without you mentioning Brady’s name every five minutes?”

  Emma looked thoughtful. “Um, no.”

  I w
ould have been happier in Sports World myself, but I looked around and found a cute key chain with a puppy sitting on top of a soccer ball. It was only a few dollars, so I bought it.

  “Maisie will love this,” I told Jessi, holding it up to show her.

  “Poor Maisie,” Jessi said. “We still need to think of a fund-raiser for her soccer program.”

  “Maybe we could talk about it when we eat,” I suggested.

  “Eat? Did somebody say ‘eat’?” Emma asked, looking up from a pile of plush baby seals.

  “Have you had your fill of cuteness yet?” Zoe asked.

  “I will never have my fill of cuteness, but right now I’m hungry,” Emma said. “On to Atomic Burrito!”

  We left Cute Emporium and took the escalator up to the food court. Emma walked right to Atomic Burrito, her favorite stand in the whole place. As you might have guessed, Atomic Burrito sold burritos that were mostly on the spicy side.

  Emma was the first one at the counter. “One Atomic Super Special, please. Extra spicy.”

  I followed her. “One Sub-Atomic Chicken, extra wimpy,” I said. I hated to say the words “extra wimpy,” but that was the only way you could get something to eat that wouldn’t set your mouth on fire.

  They made their burritos pretty fast there, so soon we were all sitting around eating our burritos and talking about Maisie’s soccer program.

  “It’s so unfair that Maisie and her friends can’t play soccer,” Emma said between bites of her superspicy burrito. “I love the idea of a fund-raiser.”

  “Maybe a craft fair,” Zoe suggested.

  “Or what about a bake sale?” I suggested.

  “I’d love to see us do, like, a soccer clinic for kids,” Jessi said. “We could charge a small fee and donate it to Maisie’s school for the soccer program.”

  “That would be fun,” I said.

  “What would be fun?”

  I turned around and saw two boys standing behind me—Steven and Cody. Jessi kind of had the same relationship with Cody that I had with Steven. They liked each other, but they weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend or anything. (None of our parents thought we were old enough to go out on dates, so we kept it loose.)