Hat Trick

by Alex Morgan

  “Hey, sit down!” Jessi said, pulling over two orange metal chairs for the boys. I noticed Emma and Zoe look at each other and roll their eyes.

  Steven and Cody were kind of opposite-looking. Cody had wavy blond hair and blue eyes, and Steven had dark eyes and short, spiky black hair. But they both loved soccer as much as Jessi and I did.

  “So, how’s practice going?” Steven asked.

  I shook my head. “It’s really tough,” I said. “Coach Darby wants us all to play really aggressively, and I just don’t have it in me. And nobody on the team is, like, gelling.”

  “Really?” asked Zoe. “It’s not like that on the Gators. It’s like we’ve always played as a team. And our coach is really nice.”

  “Lucky!” said Jessi.

  “Yeah, the boys’ winter league is really competitive,” said Cody. “And the practices are a lot harder.”

  “I know, right!” exclaimed Jessi.

  While we were talking, I noticed Emma looking down at her burrito. Her atomic smile had faded. She pushed back her chair and stood up.

  “I’ll meet you guys in the arcade, when you’re done talking about soccer,” she said, and then she walked away quickly before we could stop her.

  “Emma, wait!” Zoe said, jumping up and running after her.

  Steven looked at me. “What’s that about?”

  I sighed. “Emma’s upset about not making a team. I guess all this soccer talk got to her. We should go after her.”

  “Sure,” Cody said, and the two boys stood up. “See you later!”

  Jessi and I looked at each other.

  “Poor Emma! This must be bothering her worse than we thought,” I said.

  “Definitely,” Jessi agreed.

  We found her in the arcade, killing zombies with a laser gun while Zoe watched. I put some quarters into the machine and grabbed the laser gun next to hers.

  “Behind you!” I yelled, and I destroyed a zombie that was just about to take a bite out of her arm.

  Emma turned to me. “Thanks, Devin,” she said, and then she smiled, and everything was all right again. The Kicks were still the Kicks.

  But how long can the Kicks stick together? a little voice inside me asked. As the season goes on, you’ll be seeing less and less of Zoe and Emma.

  I pushed the thought out of my mind and blasted a zombie. I had to admit, it made me feel a lot better!

  “Devin. Wake up, Devin!”

  I slowly opened my eyes to see Dad hovering over me, gently shaking my shoulder.

  “Dad, my alarm didn’t go off yet,” I told him, pulling the pillow over my face.

  “It did, but you slept through it,” Dad said.

  A surge of panic jolted me awake. I looked at the clock: six twenty. The Griffons had a game today, and Coach Darby had called a 7:00 a.m. practice before we hit the road.

  “Oh gosh, we’re going to be late!” I said, jumping out of bed.

  “I’ve got your breakfast ready, so just get dressed and you can eat in the car,” Dad said.

  “Thanks!” I said gratefully.

  I got dressed as quickly as I could, and when I went downstairs, Dad was waiting for me, with a thermos of coffee for him in one hand and a homemade smoothie and a granola bar for me in the other hand.

  “I don’t even know what Coach Darby would do if I showed up late on game day,” I said. “Probably throw me off the team!”

  “Is she really that tough?” Dad asked.

  I nodded. “Yes. You’ll find out today. You’re coming to the game, right?” I asked.

  Dad nodded. “Of course. I haven’t missed one yet! I’m going to hang out and watch you guys practice, and then I’m driving you and Jessi,” he said. “The game’s at the Spring Lake field, in northern Gilmore. It’s about a forty-­five-minute drive.”

  I dragged myself out to Dad’s car. Coach had called for a double practice on Saturday to prepare for our first game, and I was feeling it all over my body. We had scrimmaged again, and she’d moved me from forward to a left wing in the midfield. I wasn’t happy about that, because I liked playing forward a lot more, where I had more chances to score goals. Being a midfielder was more about passing.

  As we drove toward the field, I realized something. “So, wait—Mom and Maisie aren’t coming to the game?”

  “Well, Maisie’s been so bummed out about her soccer program being canceled that Mom signed her up for gymnastics,” Dad said. “She’s starting this morning.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “But it stinks about her soccer program.”

  Dad nodded. “I know. I contacted the school and told them I’d volunteer to coach. They seemed interested, but they said they still need more funds for equipment and field maintenance.”

  “The Kicks and I were thinking about doing a fund-raiser,” I told him. “We just haven’t had a chance to plan anything out, with all these practices.”

  “That’s really sweet of you guys,” Dad said. “Let me know if you need help, okay?”

  “I will, Dad,” I said. “Thanks!”

  We arrived at the Pinewood field, and I ran out of the car. It was exactly 6:59 when I got onto the field. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You girls are looking sleepy this morning!” Coach Darby barked at seven on the dot. “Give me thirty jumping jacks. Let’s get your blood pumping!”

  I looked over at Jessi. She looked just as tired as I was. Except now I was starting to get excited for the game.

  “That’s it, girls!” Coach Darby cheered us on. “Let’s get ready to trounce those Gazelles!”

  We drilled for about an hour, and then it was time to hit the road and get to Spring Lake.

  “Those looked like normal drills to me,” Dad said as he drove Jessi and me down the highway.

  “Yeah, the drills are normal, but you should see our scrimmages,” I told him.

  “They’re brutal,” Jessi confirmed.

  “Brutal how?” Dad asked.

  “A lot of the girls will elbow you or trip you up to get the ball, and Coach doesn’t say anything about it. And I know she sees them,” I explained.

  Dad frowned. “I knew this winter league was going to be more competitive. But there’s a difference between being an aggressive player and being unsportsmanlike. There’s no place for contact on the field.”

  The mood was kind of tense for the rest of the trip. I kept thinking, would the other team, the Gazelles, be elbowing and shoving? Was I ready for a game like that? I glanced at Jessi next to me, and she looked worried too.

  It turned out, I shouldn’t have been worried at all—not for that reason, anyway. When we got to the Spring Lake field, Coach Darby had us line up.

  “Jamie, Stephanie, I want you on forward,” she said. “Mirabelle, Kelly, midfield center. Janet, left wing; Meg, right wing. Katie, Lauren, Amanda, Tracey, defense. Courtney, you’re on goal. Sasha, get ready to sub for Stephanie.”

  Jessi and I looked at each other, stunned. Had we heard right? We weren’t starting? This was really disappointing, especially after all the hard work we’d put in.

  On the Kicks this would have been the time when we would do a sock swap and then put our hands together for a big cheer. But the starting Griffons just jogged out onto the field and took their positions without even high-fiving one another.

  Jessi and I sat on the bench with the other five team members who weren’t starting—Sasha, Beth Anne, and Kristin, and Zarine and Sarah from the Kicks.

  “Devin, I can’t believe they didn’t start you,” Zarine whispered. “You were the best player on the Kicks!”

  “We’re all good players,” I said. “I’m sure Coach will sub us in.”

  But the first quarter passed with no substitutions at all. Jamie scored a goal against the Gazelles. Before the second quarter started, Coach w
aved to the bench.

  “Sasha, in for Stephanie. Jessi, you’re in for Kelly.”

  I high-fived Jessi as she took to the field. If I couldn’t play, at least I could cheer on Jessi.

  The second quarter started off with one of the Gazelles sweeping down the field and scoring a goal against the Griffons.

  “Courtney, take a break!” Coach Darby called out. “Kristin, you’re on goal.”

  Play resumed, and that was when I noticed that things started getting a little intense. One of the Gazelle defenders face-planted in the grass, and I was sure that Sasha had tripped her. Then one of the Gazelles had the ball, and I saw Jamie push her with her shoulder as she tried to get the ball!

  Where is the yellow card? I wondered. If the ref had seen Jamie push another player, he would have given her a yellow card—a warning for rough play or unsportsmanlike conduct. A second warning would get Jamie out of the game.

  I couldn’t call for a yellow card out loud, though, because I didn’t want a penalty against my own team, even if it was deserved.

  Then Jessi had control of the ball, and she took it right down the center of the field.

  “Go, Jessi, go!” I yelled.

  Then, out of nowhere . . . wham! One of the Gazelles side tackled her, and Jessi fell to the ground! I couldn’t believe it. I heard a ref’s whistle.

  “But I tripped!” the Gazelle said, but the ref wasn’t buying it.

  “At least there’s some justice,” Zarine said to me, and Sarah nodded solemnly next to her.

  Right then I figured that my fears were right: Coach Darby wasn’t the only coach in the winter league who expected rough play from her team.

  “Jessi, you all right?” Coach Darby asked.

  Jessi jumped to her feet. “I’m okay, Coach!”

  There were no more scores in the second quarter, and so when halftime came, I was itching to get onto the field. My right leg was bouncing up and down like it had a mind of its own. But when Coach called out the positions, she didn’t say my name, and Jessi was back on the bench.

  “This is ridiculous,” I complained as the third quarter began. “I want to play!”

  “She’s got to call you in,” Jessi said.

  Sasha scored in the third quarter, and we were looking good going into the fourth. But then things kind of fell apart. Jamie, Sasha, and some of the midfielders were taking long journeys down the field, not passing even when others were clearly open. The Gazelle defense kept getting the ball from us, and they managed to score twice in the first five minutes of the last quarter.

  Coach Darby turned to the bench, and I thought, This is it! She’s sending me in!

  “Zarine, sub for Tracey,” Coach Darby said. I waited for her to say more, but that was it.

  “Sorry,” Zarine said to me before she jogged out onto the field.

  I wanted to melt into the bench. Not playing stank worse than dirty gym socks. And now I had my teammates feeling sorry for me too. It felt terrible—and my ego had taken a hit.

  The Gazelles ended up beating us, 3–2, and everyone on the Griffons looked pretty miserable as we slapped hands with the Gazelles.

  “You can do better than this, Griffons!” Coach Darby said when we came back to the sidelines.

  Yeah, I know, I felt like saying. I can do a lot better than sitting on a stupid bench!

  Then Coach dismissed us, and Dad walked up to me and Jessi.

  “I see what you mean about the super-aggressive playing,” Dad said.

  Jessi made a face and grabbed her side. “Yeah, I’m still smarting from that tackle.”

  Dad didn’t mention me being benched, and I was glad, because I didn’t feel like talking about it. In fact, I didn’t feel like talking about anything the whole ride home.

  Then it hit me—when the Kicks lost, we were sad and upset, but we always bounced back. I always ended up shaking it off and laughing with my friends. But it wasn’t going to work that way on the Griffons.

  Soccer had suddenly stopped being fun. Soccer, my passion, the driving force of my life. Right now I didn’t even feel like playing anymore.

  And that was a scary thought.

  Jessi and I were hanging in my room after the game, waiting for her mom to pick her up, when Zoe texted us.

  How did your game go? she asked.

  We lost, 3–2, I typed back.

  Sorry! Zoe texted. Gators won 3–1. Grace is on my team. I passed it to her twice and she scored!

  “What is she, giving us a play-by-play?” Jessi grumbled. I could tell she was upset about losing.

  I wasn’t upset, but I didn’t feel like texting much either, so I replied with a .

  Jessi sighed. “Sorry. I’m happy for her. I just wish we could have won too.”

  Zoe’s next text was a photo of her and some of her Gators teammates. They wore green uniforms—and mismatched striped socks! Jessi and I both noticed that detail right away.

  “No way! That’s our Kicks ritual!” Jessi cried.

  “I guess their coach doesn’t mind if they don’t wear regulation socks,” I said.

  “Hey, maybe that’s why we lost,” Jessi said. “We didn’t get to do our lucky sock swap. Maybe we’re, like, cursed!”

  I thought about that. I wasn’t a very superstitious person, but I did always believe that somehow the sock swap brought us luck. But I knew it was more than that.

  “If we’re cursed, it’s because we’re not acting like a team,” I said. “We don’t even huddle before a game.”

  Jessi nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But now I’m starting to feel like we’re cursed, ending up on the Griffons!”

  I almost said, Well, at least we’re still playing soccer, but I just couldn’t get the words out—because for me, it wasn’t even true! I had sat on that bench the whole game!

  The more I thought about it, the more being benched bothered me. Even after Jessi went home, I was still thinking about it. I thought about it during our Sunday whole wheat spaghetti dinner, and I thought about it watching the football game on TV afterward.

  I had a vocabulary quiz at school the next morning, and that distracted me for a little bit. (Which is about the only good thing you can say about a vocabulary quiz, right?) Then at lunch I found another distraction—although this one was almost as bad as being benched.

  Jessi and I walked into the cafeteria together, like we always did. And we walked toward our table, the one we always sat at with Zoe and Emma. The only problem was, Zoe and Emma weren’t sitting at our usual table.

  Jessi frowned. “That’s weird. Maybe they’re running late,” she said as we draped our backpacks over the edges of our blue plastic seats.

  But then I spotted Zoe. She was sitting at a table with Grace and Anjali—two Kicks who were now on the Gators with her. She saw me looking at her and then got up and dodged through the tray-carrying students to reach me. It reminded me of how she was on the field, weaving through other players like a little lightning bolt.

  “Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m sitting with Grace and Anjali today,” Zoe said. “We wanted to go over yesterday’s game while it’s still fresh in our minds.”

  “Sure,” I said. “But you’re not deserting us forever, right?”

  “Of course not!” Zoe said, and then she gave me a quick hug and darted off again.

  “Okay, well that explains Zoe,” Jessi said. “But what about Emma?”

  I scanned the lunchroom as I opened up my lunch bag, but Jessi spotted her first.

  “There she is! At that corner table!” Jessi said, pointing.

  “Who are those people she’s sitting with?” I asked.

  “Well, I’m going to find out,” Jessi said, and she got up and marched off. I was pretty curious, so I followed her.

  “Hey, Emma,” Jessi said, and the ton
e in her voice said a lot more than those two words. It was a tone of voice that said, What the heck are you doing here with these guys and not with your best friends?

  Emma stopped talking to a girl with curly hair and looked up. “Oh, gosh! I totally forgot to tell you. I joined the Tree Huggers. We meet during lunchtime.”

  The Tree Huggers was our school’s environmental group. They were always doing stuff like making recycling posters, and they’d planted a vegetable garden on the lawn.

  “Oh, cool,” I said. “It’s just, well, we missed you.”

  “You guys should join us,” said the girl with curly hair. “I’m Michelle. We can always use new members.”

  “I’d love to, but the winter soccer league is taking up all my free time right now,” I said, and I saw a shadow cross Emma’s face. Then it all made sense. How could I feel bad about her joining the Tree Huggers when I was so busy with the Griffons?

  “All right, so, see you later,” Jessi said, and we headed back to our table. Jessi took the lid off her packed salad and started stabbing the lettuce with a fork.

  “You seem mad,” I said.

  “Of course I’m mad!” Jessi said. “I mean, I get that we all don’t have to do everything together all the time, but lunch is one thing we always do. That’s our thing. It’s a Kicks thing!”

  “Yeah, but we’re not Kicks right now,” I reminded her, even though it hurt to say it.

  “Yeah, I guess we’re not,” Jessi said, and she started stabbing at her lettuce again.

  “I get it,” I said. “I miss being in the Kicks. I miss Frida, too.”

  Jessi put down her fork. “We should text her. Maybe we could video chat during lunch.”

  “Good idea,” I said, and I picked up my phone.

  Hey Frida! How’s it going on the set? We miss you!

  I got a reply right away.

  Miss u 2! Tutor coming back in a minute. She’s no Ms. Frizzle. She’ll make me do extra math problems if she sees me on the phone.

  K ttyl! I replied.

  “She’s busy,” I informed Jessi.

  Jessi sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  We pretty much finished our lunch without talking. It felt so weird, eating in silence when normally there’d be a bunch of us talking and laughing. Everything was so different now, and I didn’t like any of it.