Sabotage Season

by Alex Morgan

  I quickly lowered the sound on my laptop. “Nothing! Nobody!” I replied.

  On the screen I could see Kara mouthing my name, confused.

  “Why don’t you wrap up your call with Kara,” he suggested. “And come downstairs and set the table.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I turned the sound back up after he left. “My dad totally heard us!” I told Kara.

  “Oops!” she laughed. “Oh my gosh, your face is so red!”

  “I’m totally embarrassed,” I groaned. “Whatever. I can’t even think about this stuff right now. I’m going to stay focused on soccer, not Steven, until the season is over.”

  “Good luck with that!” Kara joked.

  “Yeah, right,” I said, laughing. I had a lot going on—school, friends, soccer, and the whole thing with Steven. Life was pretty complicated . . . but it was all good!

  The next couple of days were a busy blur of school, soccer practice, and homework. I had a book to finish reading for English class, a ton of algebra homework, and a paper to write for science. We were studying Newton’s laws of motion, so of course I had to relate it to soccer. My paper was about how the laws explained the movements of the soccer ball during a game, and it was by far my favorite homework assignment.

  “Only Devin would turn science homework into a soccer project!” Jessi said at lunch that Wednesday. “Too bad they don’t have a soccer class. Soccer 101. You’d get an A plus!”

  Emma and Zoe laughed, and I joined in. I totally could not stop thinking about soccer, and my friends knew it. Every free second I could find, I spent thinking about the Kicks: How many more wins did we need to get us into the play-offs? Which teams needed to lose? What drills could we do at practice to strengthen us as a whole? What would be our best option for field positions to maximize our offensive line while Zoe was benched?

  I put away my science paper and grabbed a printout from my folder. “Look at this shooting drill I found. It should really help strengthen our offense. I e-mailed it to Grace, and she likes it, so we’re going to ask Coach if we can run it at practice today.” After I’d finished my homework the night before, I’d spent the rest of the night looking up new drills on my computer.

  Emma shook her head. “And I thought I loved soccer! Devin, you are obsessed!”

  “Well, Devin’s not the only obsessed one,” Zoe said. “All I can think about is getting back on the field. The doctor says he might clear me to play next week.”

  Emma smiled. “Finally! We can be a complete team again,” she said. “Hey, you know what? I saw the Kicks’ state championship trophy from when Coach Flores was on the team. It’s on a shelf in the hall by the library. It’s really cool.”

  Jessi laughed. “Why did you tell Devin that? If she sees it, she’ll just become even more obsessed!”

  I laughed along with everyone else until I got the full impact of Jessi’s words. Duh! I was so preoccupied that I had been overlooking one very important fact. The Kicks had been champions in the past. And our very own Coach Flores had been on that team. I needed to ask her, in detail, how they’d done it. Maybe someone had even videotaped their games, like my dad did with ours. My eyes lit up at the thought. I could study the videos to find ways to help the team!

  After school that day I raced to Coach Flores’s office, eager to talk to her before practice.

  “Devin, what’s up?” she asked as I came barreling into her office.

  “Do you have any video recordings of your Kicks games?” I asked, panting.

  “Whoa!” Coach said, laughing. “Relax. Have a seat and take a second to catch your breath.”

  I collapsed into the chair. I guess I had been a little overexcited.

  “Do you mean from when I was a player on the Kicks?” Coach asked. I nodded, still panting.

  “I do, and as a matter of fact, my father converted them from tapes to DVD a couple of years ago,” Coach said. “I have them at home. Why?”

  “I’d love to borrow some, to get some pointers, if that’s okay,” I replied.

  “If you think it will help, sure,” she said. But then her usual smile faded and she got a serious look on her face. “But remember, to achieve those results the coach had to be really tough on us, and we had to eat, sleep, and breathe soccer. I’m never going to be that kind of coach.”

  “I know, Coach. But it still could give us some great new ideas, right?” I said.

  Coach Flores laughed. “Tell you what. I’ll turn over my whistle to you and you can coach the team.”

  My eyes lit up, and she laughed even harder. “I was joking, Devin! Now relax, and remember to have fun! At the end of the day, it’s only a game.”

  “Okay, I will,” I said.

  When I got to practice later that day, Coach had a surprise for me.

  “I had to stop home anyway before practice today,” she said, handing me a DVD case. “Here you go.”

  “Wow, thank you!” I cried, clutching the DVD like it was a valuable jewel or something. I couldn’t wait to watch it!

  After practice, homework, and dinner that night, I ran up to my room and stayed up late watching the champion Kicks’ games until my dad shut off the television and ordered me to bed. The old Kicks with Coach Flores had been really awesome. They’d moved like a well-oiled machine: pass, pass, score. I already had a ton of ideas about different formations we could try in practice from watching them in action.

  The next morning I kept hitting the snooze on my phone alarm. Finally I felt awake enough and grabbed my phone to shut it off. Like always, there was a text waiting for me from Kara. But this morning’s was different. No photo. No outfit description. It just said:

  Everything ok? U missed our web chat last night!

  Oh, no! I had been so wrapped up in the DVD, I had totally forgotten I had promised to web chat with Kara again last night.

  Facepalm! Totally forgot. Will call tonight and fill u in.

  I felt really bad, and I hoped Kara wasn’t too mad at me, but I didn’t have time to think about it. I had to hurry up and get dressed so I wouldn’t be late for school!

  I had so many ideas for practice floating around in my head that I had a hard time concentrating during my classes that day. I kept looking at the clock, and it seemed to tick-tock more and more slowly as the day went on. As soon as school had finished, I headed to the equipment shed. It was over by the field at the school, but the equipment for both the boys’ and girls’ teams was kept there, so we girls had to drag everything over to the pathetic community field every time we practiced. I thought if I found Coach Flores there early, I could talk to her alone about the thoughts I had.

  As I walked across the school field, I noticed someone coming out of the equipment shed. Whoever it was wore a long-sleeved hoodie with the hood pulled up over their head, and long black shorts. It’s a warm day to be wearing a hoodie, I thought. I was dressed in capris and a T-shirt. I couldn’t tell who it was, but I figured it was one of the other Kicks who had come to practice early too.

  Then the person walked in the direction of the parking lot, not back toward the field or the locker room.

  “Hello?” I called out. But he (or she—I really had no clue!) disappeared out of sight as the sidewalk curved around the parking lot toward the main road.

  That’s weird, I thought. I looked around nervously. Was anyone else lurking nearby? But there was no one else in sight.

  I walked over to the equipment shed and cautiously pulled a door open. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, because it was so bright out. The shed held balls, flags, paint, nets, and other items. An equipment sign-out sheet hung next to the door with a pen attached by a string.

  Nothing looked out of place, until I noticed the Kicks banner lying on the floor. It was usually kept rolled up on a high shelf. Today it sat on the floor and looked a little crumpled.

  Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, and the shed grew dark. A figure stood in the doorway, blocking out the sun. I jumped an
d let out a small scream.

  “Who is it?” I yelled, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “Devin, what are you doing?” Jessi asked as she stepped inside the shed.

  “Thank goodness it’s you!” I put a hand to my chest to try to still my heart, which felt like it wanted to leap out of my body. “I saw someone—I’m not sure who—coming out of here. I wanted to check and make sure everything’s okay.”

  “Is it?” Jessi asked curiously.

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t look like anything is missing, but our banner is definitely out of place.” I pointed to it on the floor.

  Jessi stooped and picked it up. “Let’s bring it outside so we can see better.”

  We left the darkened shed and stepped out into the bright sun. I held on to one edge of the banner while Jessi pulled the other to unroll it.

  We both gasped as we read the banner. It used to say KENTVILLE KICKS, but someone had drawn an arrow between “Kentville” and “Kicks,” and at the top of the arrow had written “CAN’T” with a bright red marker. They had also scribbled out the letter S at the end of “Kicks.”

  “Kentville . . . Can’t . . . Kick.” Jessi read each word aloud slowly. Then she grew angry. “Kentville can’t kick?”

  My mouth dropped open. How awful! Who would do such a thing?

  “Sabotage! I told you!” she yelled. “Someone is out to get us. And this has Mirabelle written all over it! Do you believe me now?”

  I exhaled loudly, still shaken up. “I’m beginning to. There is no explaining this away. It wasn’t an accident, or a coincidence, or a mix-up. Someone did this deliberately.”

  Jessi’s eyes grew wide. “We need to look for clues!” She pulled both of the shed doors open wide. “We’ll need more light so we can see.”

  We stepped inside again, our eyes searching all over the shed.

  Jessi stepped underneath the shelf where the banner was usually kept. “So someone had to stand right here in order to grab it,” she said as she looked around.

  “What’s this?” she cried as her gaze went to the floor directly under the shelf. Something that looked like a piece of string sat on the ground. I grabbed it and held it in a ray of light that was coming through the door. It was a simple yet colorful two-string friendship bracelet made out of yarn.

  “A friendship bracelet,” Jessi said thoughtfully. “Lots of kids wear them.”

  But as I looked at the bracelet in my hand, something seemed familiar about it.

  I gasped. “Jessi—the colors! Purple and gold!”

  “Those are Pinewood colors!” Jessi practically shouted. “I knew Mirabelle was behind this.”

  “We’ve got to tell Coach!” I said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  For the second time in two days, I made a mad dash into Coach’s office. But this time Jessi was with me, and she was carrying the ruined banner.

  “Yikes!” Coach Flores cried as we both flew into the room. “That’s it! I’m going to have speed bumps installed outside my door to slow you down!”

  “Sorry, Coach!” I said, panting once again.

  “But this is an emergency!” Jessi exclaimed as she placed the banner on top of Coach Flores’s desk and rolled it out. “Look!”

  Coach Flores read the banner and shook her head. “That’s terrible. Where did you find this?”

  “In the equipment shed,” I said. “As I was walking over there, I saw someone coming out of the shed, and when I went inside, this was lying on the floor.”

  “Did you see who it was?” Coach asked.

  I shook my head. “I even called out, but they didn’t answer me.”

  “This is just the latest thing someone has done to us!” Jessi cried. “First someone sent a message from a fake e-mail address telling some of the Kicks that practice would start late. Devin’s soccer bag got stolen. Then someone claiming to be you called the community center and canceled our practice. At the boys’ game a soccer ball exploded. Someone is trying to sabotage the Kangaroos!” Then she paused dramatically before saying, “We know who it is. We even have proof.”

  She pulled the friendship bracelet out of her pocket and slapped it on top of the banner.

  “We found this in the shed, right underneath the shelf where the banner is stored,” Jessi continued. “It’s a friendship bracelet. A purple-and-gold bracelet. Pinewood colors. I’m pretty sure Mirabelle and the Panthers are behind all of this!”

  Coach sighed. “First of all, girls, I’m so sorry someone pulled such a mean prank. But honestly, it could have been anybody right here at Kentville. Maybe they thought they were being funny or something. I just find it hard to believe that the Panthers would go to all this trouble. That bracelet could have been dropped the last time the Panthers played Kentville.”

  “But how would it get into the equipment shed?” Jessi asked.

  Coach Flores shrugged. “A strong wind? Or it could have been stuck to the bottom of someone’s cleats. There are a lot of possible explanations.”

  Jessi shook her head. “Can’t you see? Everything is pointing to the Panthers. They want to see us lose.”

  “Are you sure? None of these”—she paused, searching for the right word—“events has negatively impacted the team. Don’t forget, you’re on a winning streak now!”

  Jessi groaned. “That’s what Cody said. But the Panthers are messing with us, trying to psych us out. And who knows what they have planned for us next? Maybe something way worse that will actually cause us to lose this time!”

  I nodded. “Coach, at first I didn’t believe Jessi either. It was easy to explain away all that other stuff as a mix-up or something, but the banner was done deliberately. You can’t deny that.”

  Coach looked thoughtful. “I guess if you add it all together, it is a little suspicious. But a bracelet doesn’t prove anything.”

  “We can’t just sit back and do nothing!” Jessi cried.

  I nodded my head in agreement. We had to put a stop to this!

  Coach sighed again. “The only thing I can suggest right now is to bring your case to the league director, Ms. Carides. She’ll listen to what you’ve just told me, and if she finds enough evidence, she could give the Panthers a warning or even disqualify them for the rest of the season. But it will be up to her.”

  “Great! When can we go talk to her?” Jessi said.

  “I’ll call her now and set up an appointment,” she said. “Now shake this off and go warm up, girls. We’ve still got to practice!”

  Jessi and I left her office and headed into the locker room to change.

  “I can’t wait till those Pinewood jerks get what they deserve,” Jessi said as we walked in. The rest of the team was suiting up for practice.

  “I don’t care about revenge,” I said. “I just want all this sabotage to stop, if that’s what it is.”

  “You want what to stop?” Grace asked curiously, looking up as she tied her cleats.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Emma asked.

  The rest of the Kicks huddled around us, wanting to hear the story.

  Jessi explained about the banner, and a shocked silence fell over the group.

  “That is harsh,” Anna said loudly, breaking the silence.

  An angry murmur filled the locker room. No surprise, the Kicks weren’t happy to hear this news.

  “Now put it all together,” Jessi said, her hands on her hips. “Remember that fake e-mail from Coach Flores? And how Devin’s bag went missing and someone canceled our practice? And did you hear how the boys’ soccer ball was tampered with at their game against the Roses? This is not a coincidence. The Panthers are trying to ruin our season!”

  “What should we do?” Alandra asked. She sounded panicked.

  Jessi explained about our appointment with the league director. A lot of the girls started talking excitedly among themselves, while some of them asked Jessi questions.

  I began to worry that maybe we shouldn’t have told everybody everything. If whatever
was happening was meant to throw us off our game, it would only work if the entire team got paranoid. I wanted the Kicks to focus on practice and winning, not on someone trying to sabotage us!

  Practice that day was rough. Instead of focusing, girls would stop and start whispering to each other on the field, clearly still rattled by the news. But Jessi had no problem concentrating. In fact, she seemed thrilled that people were finally starting to believe her.

  Friday’s practice went a little better, but our rhythm seemed off. It had me worried. If this kept up, we would be exiting the Play-offs Express!

  After practice Coach drove Jessi and me to the Gilmore County Middle School Soccer League’s office, located at the community center in Adams, a town only a few miles away. She had made the appointment and gotten permission from our parents to take us over.

  As we drove into the parking lot, I saw the Atoms, the Adams soccer team, practicing in the field next to the community center. It was just a coincidence that their practice field was next to the league building, but it got me thinking. We hadn’t played them yet, but I’d heard they were pretty good. As Jessi and Coach walked into the building, I stopped to watch the Atoms’ practice, wondering what drills they were running.

  “Uh, Devin?” Jessi said. “Come on!”

  “Sorry!” I ran over to catch up. I started to get that butterfly feeling in my stomach again. “League director” sounded so important. What if she didn’t believe us? I was starting to wish we hadn’t even come.

  We were shown into Ms. Carides’s office, and she stood up as we entered the room. A tall, thin woman about Coach’s age, she had long, dark hair.

  “Maria.” Ms. Carides smiled warmly at Coach Flores. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “You too, Beatriz,” Coach replied. “I’d like you to meet Jessi and Devin.” Ms. Carides smiled at us both. “As I mentioned on the phone yesterday, they have some concerns about possible misconduct from players on one of the other teams.”

  “Please have a seat,” she said, and gestured to the chairs. I sat down nervously, feeling awkward. But Jessi looked confident. It was obvious she couldn’t wait to tell Ms. Carides everything.