by Alex Morgan
Danilo stood between the goalposts.
“Devin, try to score,” he said, throwing me the ball. “Emma, keep your eyes on me!”
I put down the ball and dribbled for a few steps, then faked left and kicked right toward the goal. Danilo made a flying dive into the sand and caught the ball, sending sand flying everywhere when he landed.
“Nice try, Devin!” he said. “This is one of the reasons I wanted to practice on the beach. It can be intimidating for a goalie to take a nosedive into hard earth and grass. But diving into sand is a piece of cake.”
“Plus, no shoes to fly off,” Emma quipped.
“Come on, Emma,” Danilo said. “The goal is yours. Your friends will try to score. Don’t let them.”
Emma nodded. “Okay. Here goes.” She took her place in front of the goal. “Bring it on!” she said bravely. “Give me your best shot!”
Danilo tossed the ball to Jessi.
“Here it comes!” Jessi called out. She kicked one over Emma’s head. Emma jumped up, caught it, and landed firmly on her two feet.
“Nice try!” Emma said. “All right, who’s next?”
We took turns shooting at the goal, and pretty soon Emma was jumping around and rolling and diving into the sand.
“You’re doing great, Emma!” Danilo cheered her on.
We all ended up taking turns at guarding the goal, and I had to admit, it was more fun than playing goal on the field. There wasn’t that little voice in the back of my head wondering if I would get hurt if I dove for the ball.
After that, Danilo led us in a few more drills. The sun was high in the sky when we heard Mrs. Kim’s voice.
“Lunchtime!”
Danilo nodded. “It’s a good time to break.”
A delicious smell hit my nose as we ran toward Mrs. Kim’s setup. She was cooking hot dogs on a small charcoal grill. A pile of already-cooked dogs was sitting on a small table, along with a bowl of potato salad, a platter of dumplings, and a tray of cut-up mangoes and melons.
“Wow, Mom, this looks awesome!” Emma said, grabbing a hot dog. “I’m starving!”
“I thought we could make it a little party,” her mom replied. “Before you go to Goalie-Palooza tomorrow.”
Emma frowned. “Don’t remind me! I’m so nervous, just thinking about it.”
“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, Emma,” Danilo said. “You’re a great goalie.”
The rest of us agreed with Danilo. Jessi put an arm around Emma.
“Don’t stress about it, Emma Emma Bo-Bemma,” she said. “Today, we eat. Tomorrow, you rock Goalie-Palooza!”
Zoe held up her hot dog. “Cheers!” she said, and we each picked up a dog and tapped them together, just as if we were clinking glasses.
Then we each took a bite. Frida made a face.
“Frida, is something wrong with your hot dog?” Mrs. Kim asked.
“No, it’s delicious,” Frida replied. “It’s just . . . it’s got sand in it.”
“Mine is fine,” Zoe replied. “Maybe you’re just a sand-attractor, Frida.”
Frida squirmed. “I think you’re right. It’s in my underwear, too. I can feel it.”
Emma giggled. “Oh no, Frida!”
“See? If you get nervous tomorrow, just think of Frida with sand in her underwear,” Jessi said.
Frida shook her head. “Please don’t!”
“I hope you can all come to cheer on Emma,” Mrs. Kim said.
“My dad already offered to drive,” I told her. “I know Emma has to get there early, to register and warm up before the competitions.”
“There’s that word again. ‘Competitions,’ ” Emma said, frowning.
“There are competitions, but Goalie-Palooza is mostly about having fun,” Danilo said. “I have been going for the last ten years.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” Emma said. “You said you competed, right?”
Danilo grinned. “Speed champion in my age group, three years in a row. But I think you should enter the rapid-fire-defense competition, Emma.”
Emma’s eyes got wide. “That sounds intense.”
“It is,” Danilo said. “But I think you’ll be great at it.”
Emma took a deep breath and turned to her mom. “Thanks, Mom, for all of this. I’ll make you proud.”
“You already do,” her mother replied.
“Awwwwwww!” Zoe and Frida said together.
“So, Emma, are you any closer to becoming the Kicks’ goalie again?” I asked.
“Weeeeeellll . . .” Emma dragged out the word. “Maybe. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.”
I crossed my fingers behind my back for luck. The Kicks needed Emma back on goal.
I just had to wait one more day to see if my Goalie-Palooza idea would save the day—or make Emma quit being a goalie for good!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day Dad and I picked up Zoe and Frida. Then we went to Jessi’s house to get her. We found her outside—talking to Sebastian!
Jessi nodded at us when the van pulled up. Then she said something to Sebastian, and he hopped onto his bicycle and pedaled away.
I was in the front passenger seat. I turned around to Jessi as she got into the car, and raised my eyebrows.
“What?” Jessi asked innocently. “He just came by to say hi.”
“I like his bicycle,” Zoe said.
“I think Jessi likes more than his bicycle,” Frida said.
“Oh boy. Girl gossip,” my dad said. “Just what I need on a Sunday morning.”
“We’ll save it for Goalie-Palooza,” I promised my dad, giving Zoe and Frida a warning look.
Zoe got the hint and quickly changed the subject. “So, what exactly is going to happen when we get there?”
I turned to the festival’s page on my phone and started to scroll through the info. “Well, there are supposed to be food stands, and booths with soccer stuff to buy,” I replied. “And then there are competitions held all afternoon for different age groups. Some of the competitions are for skills like speed and keeping the ball in the air. Then there’s the one Emma’s doing, the rapid-fire challenge. It says here that goalies have to defend ten balls in thirty seconds.”
“Whoa. Do you think Emma can handle it?” Jessi asked.
I nodded. “If Danilo thinks so, then I believe him. She’ll do great.”
Dad drove us to the county fairgrounds, where the festival was being held. The parking lot was packed, and as we got out of the van and walked toward the festival, we saw throngs of people walking around, most of them in soccer uniforms and goalie gear.
“I’ve never seen so many goalies in one place!” Zoe exclaimed. “There are tiny goalies.” She pointed to a group of goalies who looked about as old as my sister, Maisie.
“And giant goalies.” She pointed to some really tall college guys.
Dad turned to me. “Is it okay if I meet up with you during Emma’s competition? I’d like to look around, and I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“Sure, Dad,” I replied, and before he could ask, I said, “My cell phone is charged.”
“Great!” Dad said, and then he took off. He loved soccer even more than I did, so I knew he’d find a lot to do.
“Let’s try to find Emma,” Zoe suggested, and we headed down a row of booths.
We hadn’t gone far when Jessi stopped. She pointed to one of the booths. “That is too funny!”
The stall was selling T-shirts with goalie sayings on it. EAT, SLEEP, SAVE. One with a heart that read, I’M A KEEPER!
KEEP CALM AND LET THE GOALIE DO THE REST. And my favorite, FEAR THE KEEPER.
“These are great,” I agreed.
Frida had wandered down a little farther. “You won’t believe this. They have goalie food, too!”
“Goalie food?” I wondered.
But Frida was right. There was an Italian food stand that sold goalie cannolis. We used to get cannolis in Connecticut. They were a type of Italian pastry—a
tube of crispy fried dough with a sweet cream filling.
I read the rest of the menu. “Goalie stromboli. Goalie ravioli. Chicken salad with goalie aioli.”
I shook my head. I’d known that Goalie-Palooza would be about goalies, but I hadn’t known it would be this intense!
Zoe dragged me to another stand, laughing. “Check this out,” she said. “Goalie guacamole!”
“That actually looks awesome,” I said, and then I ordered some with a side of chips. Between the four of us, it was gone in seconds.
“That tasted like regular guacamole to me,” Zoe said. “I mean, what makes it goalie guacamole?”
“Goalie guacamole, goalie guacamole,” Jessi repeated in a singsong voice. “I don’t know, but it’s fun to say!”
“Maybe we should find the competition area,” Zoe suggested. “I don’t want to miss Emma.”
“Good idea,” I agreed, and we made our way through the crowd.
At the end of the row of booths we found a schedule of events attached to a post in the ground. It was a pretty complicated chart, so Zoe squeezed in past the other people looking at it to get a closer look.
“Girls twelve to thirteen, rapid-fire defense, field C, at twelve thirty,” Zoe reported when she came back to us. “That’s coming up soon. We should find field C.”
Thankfully there were big signs by each of the competition areas, and we found field C pretty easily. It was also easy to spot because Emma’s entire family was there, sitting in a row of chairs set up on the sidelines. My dad was talking with Mr. Kim, and he waved when he saw me.
We walked up to Emma’s mom. “Hi, Mrs. Kim!” I greeted her.
“Girls! Good to see you,” she said. “Emma will be competing soon.”
She pointed to a row of girls lined up on the other side of the field. I recognized the uniforms of some of the teams in our league. The goalie from the Roses was there, and also the Panthers. Emma stood out in her blue Kicks uniform, and because she was a head taller than everyone else. She was third in line.
A young woman in green shorts and a white shirt jogged out onto the field in front of the spectators.
“Shhhhhh! It’s starting!” Mrs. Kim hissed.
“Welcome to our rapid-fire-defense trial,” she told the crowd. “My name is Jenna Rogers, and I’ll be running the trial today, along with my teammates.” She pointed to a line of women who all looked to be about her age.
“We’ll be shooting ten rapid-fire balls at each contestant,” she continued. “The goalie with the most saves wins.”
Five shooters lined up in front of the goal, and the first goalie took her place. A ref on the side of the goal blew a whistle, and the first shooter sent a ball hurtling toward the goal.
The goalie stopped it with a kick. Then another ball came speeding to her, and she ran to catch it but missed. Three, four, five, six, seven . . . the balls kept coming. After the last ball, the ref blew his whistle.
“Seven!” he called out, and everyone clapped.
“Man, that looks tough,” Zoe said.
The next goalie went up, and she made six saves. Then it was Emma’s turn. She looked nervous, but her face relaxed when she saw all of us with her family.
“Go, Emma! You got this! We love you!” Zoe shouted, and we all cheered.
Emma nodded, and then she got a look of focus on her face like I’d never seen before. The referee’s whistle blew.
Bam! The first soccer ball flew toward Emma, and she caught it and threw it back.
Bam! The next one skidded toward her, and she kicked it back.
She caught the third and fourth. She kicked the fifth. The sixth ball flew over her head, and the seventh whizzed past her before she could get it.
“You can do it, Emma!” Jessi cheered.
Emma caught the eighth ball. And the ninth. She was all the way on the right side of the goal when the last ball came flying at her, all the way to the left.
Emma dove. Her long arms were outstretched before her, and her long legs stretched out behind her. She grabbed the ball inches above the ground and then landed, facedown. She jumped to her feet as the whistle blew.
“Eight!” the referee yelled.
We started clapping and cheering like crazy, but we quieted down when it was the next player’s turn. I glanced over at Frida and saw her typing on her phone.
“Were you on your phone the whole time?” I asked.
“I got a great shot of Emma,” she replied. “So I made a new meme.”
“Frida!” I cried. “Why would you do that?”
She grinned. “Check it out.”
She handed me the phone. Zoe and Jessi peered over my shoulder. It was a photo of Emma flying through the air after the ball. Frida had added the words “I believe . . . she can fly.”
“That is perfect!” Zoe cried.
Frida took back the phone. “I’m uploading it to QuikPik. I’ve got seventeen thousand followers there, ever since I did Mall Mania.”
Frida tapped her screen, and we turned back to the competition. Most of the girls got six or seven saves. But two got nine saves, tying for second place, and one girl even saved them all!
When the competition was over, the ref handed out ribbons. Emma came running up to us with a yellow ribbon that read, Rapid-Fire Defense, 12–13, Third Place.
“Third place!” Mrs. Kim gave Emma a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“You did great!” I said.
“You sure did,” Frida said. “Everyone thinks so.”
“Everyone?” Emma asked.
Frida held up her phone. “Look.”
Emma turned pale. “Oh no.”
But she took the phone from Frida and looked at it. Her eyes got wide.
“This is . . . awesome!” she said “I mean, it’s a lot better than the last meme. I still don’t know how I feel about being famous, though.”
“Well, get used to it, because you’ve got more than a thousand likes so far,” Frida said proudly. “Maybe we can never get rid of the old meme, but from now on maybe people will know you as the goalie who can fly.”
Emma’s eyes started to tear up. “You guys! I guess I’ve got to stick to being a goalie now, right?”
“Of course you do!” I said. My plan had worked.
“I think this calls for some goalie cannoli,” Jessi said.
“Goalie cannoli? What’s that?” Emma asked.
“You’ll see,” Jessie promised, with a mysterious smile, and we all headed back to the stalls. We ate goalie cannolis, and fried goalie raviolis, and Emma bought a FEAR THE KEEPER shirt. Then we joined an impromptu soccer game on one of the empty fields, just for fun. No uniforms, no cleats, just kicking a ball around.
It was about then that I realized that my whole weekend had been one big Soccer-Palooza, and I couldn’t have been happier!
CHAPTER TWELVE
I woke up on Monday morning with a big smile on my face. It was spring break week, so that meant sleeping in without an alarm. Emma was going to be on goal again. Life was looking pretty good.
The smell of bacon lured me out of bed and downstairs.
“Mmmmmm, bacon!” I said as I stepped into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Since my mom was into healthful food, bacon was saved for holidays and vacation. And when we did have it, she got it from a meat vendor at the farmers’ market, and it was all humanely raised, antibiotic free, and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t really understand. All I cared about was that it was delicious.
Our kitchen was open to our living room, and I could see Maisie sitting on the sofa, a plate on her lap piled sky-high with bacon. We weren’t usually allowed to eat in the living room either, but she was munching as she watched cartoons.
“Wow!” I said to Mom. “What’s the occasion?”
Mom smiled. “I thought you both deserved a spring break treat to start your week,” she said. “You’ve been doing so well in school and working so hard at soccer, this is a little reward.”
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“I’ve been doing well in school and at soccer too!” Maisie called out, her mouth full of bacon. Maisie had joined her elementary school soccer team last fall. My dad was the coach. Sometimes some of my friends and I helped out at their practices.
“You both have!” Mom said. “And this is why you’re getting a special breakfast and are allowed to eat it in the living room. Devin, help yourself to eggs and bacon. I’ve got to get started on work.”
My mom worked from home. She was a small-business accountant, and she’d gotten a lot of new clients in the last few months.
“Thanks!” I said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and headed into her office, which was right off the kitchen.
I piled my plate high with breakfast and plopped down onto the couch next to Maisie.
“Don’t even think about changing the channel,” Maisie said to me without taking her eyes off the television.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. Instead I grabbed my phone and checked to see if there were any messages.
I had two texts. The first one was from Steven.
Are we still on for the zoo today?
Ugh! I had totally forgotten. Before all the Jessi-Cody drama had started, the four of us had made plans to go to the Pinewood Zoo the first day of spring break. It was a small one, with a petting zoo and a merry-go-round. There was also a really nice lake there with picnic benches all around it and concessions stands nearby. We were going to have lunch after seeing all the animals.
The second text was from Jessi.
I totally forgot about the zoo 2day. What do you want to do?
The sounds from Maisie’s cartoons blared around me. I brought my plate of food into the kitchen so that I could eat in peace.
I munched on some bacon before I texted Jessi: I’ll go if you want to.
After all, Jessi kept saying she was still friends with Cody, right? So if that was true, why couldn’t we go to the zoo with the boys today?
OK, Jessi texted back. My mom said she would drive. Pick you up at 12?
OK, I answered, before replying to Steven: Yep! We’ll be there around 12:30.