Switching Goals

by Alex Morgan

  Of course, we weren’t counting on Southern California freeway traffic. That’s how I knew, by 11:55, that I wasn’t going to make it to the game on time. According to Mom’s phone, it was going to take an hour just to get to our house!

  “This is terrible!” I groaned. “It’s all because of that stupid Marcus!”

  “Devin, you know we don’t use that word,” Mom said. “But yes, it certainly does seem to be his fault.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t get discovered!” Maisie piped up from the backseat. “Being a model is so boring! And that guy was mean!”

  “He wasn’t mean, exactly,” I said, thinking about it. “He just wasn’t very friendly.”

  “He didn’t even bother to learn your names,” Mom said. “That was very demeaning. And he didn’t respect your time.”

  “He would have been happier with a bunch of cardboard cutouts he could have moved around the set!” I joked, but mom was right. The whole experience was kind of demeaning.

  “You’d better text Coach Flores and tell her you’ll be late,” Mom said.

  I was dreading doing that, but I knew I had to. She texted me back.

  Okay. Do your best to get here, Devin! We’re counting on you!

  I will, I promised.

  It was almost one when we pulled into our driveway. I got dressed in record time. Knowing I had missed the sock swap, I pulled on two different socks. I didn’t need any more bad luck than I’d already had!

  When we got to the field, the game was in full swing. The scoreboard read KENTVILLE-2, HARRISON-2. The Bees, in their yellow uniforms with black stripes, really did look like bees zipping around the field.

  I jogged up to Coach Flores.

  “So sorry, Coach,” I told her.

  “I’ll put you in for the second half,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

  I nodded and took my place on the bench, grateful that Coach Flores wasn’t as strict as some other coaches. In the winter league, Coach Darby had a no-tolerance policy for lateness. If you were late, you didn’t play.

  The halftime whistle blew, and Jessi ran off the field and right to me.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “Your modeling thing went too long?”

  I nodded. “You were right.”

  I worried she’d be mad, but then she grinned. “I love being right. But I hate that we’re tied. We need you. And also, you missed Frida acting like a weird beekeeper.”

  She nodded toward Frida, who ran past a group of the Bees on the field, saying, “You shall not sting me! I am your master!”

  I laughed. “Oh boy.”

  “But seriously, we need to beat these Bees,” she said. “Is Coach letting you play the second half?”

  I nodded. “Thankfully.”

  Jessi smiled. “Then let’s kick some bee butt!”

  Jessi and I high-fived, and a few minutes later, I was out on the grass, playing forward. As I ran down the field, my heart pumping, I found that my concentration was scattered.

  I closed my eyes briefly and took a few deep breaths, just like I had learned in my smiling tutorial. I opened my eyes and smiled, feeling more focused. I wasn’t thinking about anything except getting the ball in the net. Within the first five minutes, I intercepted a pass from one Bee to another and then kicked it to Hailey, who was in goal position. She scored, breaking the tie we had and making the game 3–2.

  “Yes!” I cheered.

  After being treated like a prop all morning, with a photographer who didn’t even bother to learn my name, I felt in my element on the soccer field. The thought of letting my team down because I had been late inspired me to do my best and push aside my guilt. Being part of a team, hearing us call out one another’s names, patting one another on the back when we had a good play, and just the overall camaraderie made me feel like this was where I belonged. Not to mention Coach Flores calling words of encouragement from the sidelines and giving us her all. The Kicks were not only my team; they were also my family, and I wasn’t about to disappoint them.

  The rest of the game went by in a whirlwind, and if I had been angry or frustrated that morning, I forgot all about it. I became laser-focused. I needed my soccer-ball brain now more than ever. I intercepted the ball four more times and managed to score two goals. Jessi and Grace both scored too, and we won handily in the end, 7–3.

  “Go, Kicks!” the team cheered after we shook hands with the Bees.

  “We should go out for pizza,” Jessi said. She turned to me. “Unless you’ve got another modeling gig and you need to ditch us.”

  I knew she was teasing, so I joked back. “I don’t know. Let me call my agent and find out.”

  Jessi groaned. “Seriously?”

  “Not seriously,” I said. “I like modeling, but today was a lot different and just not as fun as soccer. Plus, I hated letting the team down, even though we still won.”

  “Yeah, I was bummed you missed the first half today,” Jessi reminded me.

  “I know,” I said. “That will never happen again. I just won’t book a shoot on the day of a game.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Jessi said in a voice that meant she didn’t really believe me. I didn’t like that feeling at all.

  Then Emma, Frida, and Zoe ran up to us. Emma dragged me by the arm. “Come on! Pizza! My mom’s driving.”

  I noticed she wasn’t wearing her glasses. “Are you wearing contacts now?”

  She nodded. “They’re not as bad as I thought. And today I didn’t hit anybody in the head with the ball by mistake!”

  “Awesome,” I said. “So I guess ‘seeing things in a new way’ is working out for you.”

  “I guess you could say that.” She grinned.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “Not that app stuff again.”

  “Don’t be so negative, Zoe,” Frida said. “I bet you are still going to make a new friend.”

  “I highly doubt it,” Zoe said.

  “Can we please get in Mrs. Kim’s van?” Jessi asked. “I need to make friends with a slice of pepperoni pizza!”

  “Me too,” I agreed. “But I’m thinking I might be even better friends with a chicken ranch slice.”

  We climbed into Mrs. Kim’s van. It’s one of those huge vehicles with three rows of seats. Jessi and I climbed into the very backseat, giggling as our arms and legs got tangled.

  “I bet models don’t go out for pizza after a photo shoot,” Jessi said.

  “You’re right. We don’t,” I agreed, and that got me thinking. Modeling might be competitive, but so far, it was nothing like playing soccer. Every shoot was with different people. And while many of them were friendly, not all of them were. There is nothing like bonding with your teammates. After all, when I first moved to California, I didn’t have a single friend. But thanks to the Kicks, I had a whole carful of them! I realized that what I liked best about modeling was what I liked best about playing soccer: when I could be active, contribute to ideas that helped the team (or the shoot), and do a good job. Except with soccer, I didn’t have to force it. Even though I had to work hard, train, and practice for soccer, it all seemed to come more naturally to me. I had a lot to think about before I got back in front of a camera.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Welcome to the South County Animal Shelter. I’m Lynn. Thanks for volunteering today!”

  All of the Kicks, along with Coach Flores, were standing outside the animal shelter building on Sunday morning. Lynn, the volunteer coordinator, was a tall woman with wavy blond hair. She wore a blue T-shirt that read SOUTH COUNTY ANIMAL SHELTER, with a picture of a dog and a cat inside a heart. In the background, we could hear dogs yipping, barking, and howling.

  “All of the animals here in the shelter are waiting to find their forever homes,” Lynn said. “And while they’re waiting, they need the same kind of attention and care that every animal needs. They need exercise and they need to interact with other people. That’s where you all come in. Since you’re athletes, you can give our dogs a good workout!”


  “That’s right! Go, Kicks!” Jessi called out, and we all started clapping.

  “Great! Love the enthusiasm,” Lynn said. “I’ll need a dozen volunteers to walk the dogs. The rest of you can help out in the kitten room.”

  Zoe’s hand shot up. “Kittens, please!”

  “Me too!” Frida chimed in.

  “I think I’d like to walk a dog,” said Emma.

  I looked at Jessi. We’d never had a pet because Dad has bad allergies to a lot of stuff, so I didn’t have strong feelings about cats or dogs either way. They both seemed cute to me.

  “I’m a dog person,” Jessi said.

  I nodded. “Cool. I feel like a walk, anyway.”

  Everybody began talking excitedly at once.

  “Dog walkers, follow me, please!” Lynn called out over our voices. “Kitten people, please go see Holly over there.”

  I waved to Zoe and Frida, and then Emma, Jessi, and I followed Lynn, along with Coach Flores and the other girls on the team who wanted to walk dogs. We walked across the grounds of the shelter, a sprawling complex of three one-story concrete buildings. Lynn led us into the one where the sound of dogs barking was coming from.

  “The dogs get very excited when they get visitors,” she told us. “It might be hard to hear me, so stick close!”

  She opened the door and we followed her inside. The sound of the dogs became almost deafening as soon as they saw us. Each one was in its own small pen with wire fencing on the doors. The room led out to a small fenced-in outdoor run.

  Lynn stopped in front of one of the doors, where a big dog with silvery-gray fur was barking excitedly. Lynn picked up a leash hanging outside the door and stepped inside the pen. Then she clipped the leash to the dog’s collar.

  She came back out, leading the dog, and handed him to Coach Flores.

  “Coach Flores, you can take Billy,” she said. “Please take him outside and wait, and I’ll send the rest of the girls and dogs out. Then you can all walk together.”

  “Got it!” Coach said, and she and Billy jogged outside.

  In the next pen sat a little black-and-white dog, not barking, but looking at us with hopeful eyes. My heart melted.

  “This is Angel. She’s a Boston terrier,” Lynn told us. She leashed Angel and then handed her over to Emma.

  “You are an angel, aren’t you?” Emma asked the pup. “Come on, girl.”

  Emma and Angel headed outside as Lynn put the leash on the next dog, a huge, shaggy mutt with floppy ears.

  “You can take Sam,” she told Jessi, handing her the leash.

  “Cool name, Sam,” Jessi said. “Let’s go!”

  Inside the next pen, a little white fluffy dog was jumping up and down and yipping.

  “How you doing, Honey?” Lynn asked as she put the leash on the dog. “It’s time for a walk!”

  The little dog spun around in circles, twisting up her leash. I laughed.

  “Why don’t you take Honey?” Lynn asked, and I took the leash. The little dog started to run down the hallway at rocket speed, and I raced with her. I was worried at first that I’d lose her, but my legs were a lot longer than hers, so it was easy to keep pace.

  I caught up to Emma and Jessi outside, and we waited for the other dog walkers to join us. Emma’s dog, Angel, was sniffing the ground and making a funny snorting noise, and Emma was cracking up.

  “She’s like a little potbellied pig!” Emma said. “Adorable!”

  Sam was straining on the leash, eager to get walking. Jessi patted him on the head. “Steady now, Sam. We’ll be going soon.” He nuzzled her hand and calmed down.

  Honey, though, could not be still. She hopped, she twirled, and she ran circles around my legs so I kept getting tangled in the leash. “Honey, I wish I had your energy on the soccer field!” I told her.

  After just a few minutes, we were all gathered outside. Lynn handed each of us two small plastic bags.

  “You’ll be walking the dogs down that path,” she said, pointing to a tree-lined path that led away from the shelter. “Let’s walk for at least twenty minutes. Make sure you clean up after the dogs; there’s a garbage can back here where you can put the bags. And while these dogs are friendly, please don’t let them stop and interact with any other dogs. This is about exercising, not socializing.”

  “All right, let’s go!” Coach Flores said.

  Sam charged ahead, dragging Jessi behind him.

  “Jessi, this isn’t a race!” Coach called out.

  “Tell that to Sam!” Jessi answered.

  Honey continued to do a happy dance, jumping and circling as we walked. Emma and Angel walked beside us. Honey tried to get Angel’s attention, but the little Boston terrier kept her nose to the ground, smelling everything in her path.

  “These dogs are so cute!” Emma said. “I can’t believe they ended up in a shelter.”

  Coach overheard us. “There are many reasons why animals end up in shelters. Sometimes, their owners simply can’t take care of them anymore. But most times, people get dogs that aren’t suited for them and think they’ve made a mistake. Instead of figuring out how to work with the dog, or get the dog trained, they surrender them.”

  I looked down at cute little Honey, and thinking of her being surrendered almost broke my heart.

  “I guess a dog like Honey would need a lot of attention,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Coach said. “And she probably wouldn’t be happy staying home alone all day.”

  “Devin, your mom works from home during the day,” Emma said. “You could take Honey!”

  I shook my head. “My dad is allergic to dogs. And a bunch of other stuff.” I frowned. “You know, I never really thought about having a dog before. But now that I’ve met these dogs, I wish I could have one!”

  “You could always keep volunteering at the shelter,” Coach Flores suggested. “I know they always need help here.”

  “Maybe I could,” I said, but then I frowned. Since I’d started modeling, I hadn’t had much time for anything else except soccer and homework. I wasn’t sure how I’d fit volunteering into that schedule. And I’d hate to let the shelter down if a shoot ran long like the last one.

  We took the dogs for a nice long walk and then returned to the shelter. I noticed Zoe’s mom, Mrs. Quinlan, getting out of her car in the parking lot.

  That’s weird, I thought, because my mom was supposed to be the one picking us up. But before I could think about it further, a woman and a man rushed up to me. The woman had a bright pink streak in her hair and a shirt with a rainbow on it, and the man’s T-shirt read IT TAKES A BIG MAN TO WALK A SMALL DOG.

  “There she is! There’s Honey!” the woman cried.

  Honey started yipping like crazy when she saw them. The woman knelt down and started petting Honey. “Do you remember us?” she asked the dog.

  “You know Honey?” I asked.

  “We met her yesterday,” the woman said. She stood up and held out her hand. “I’m Katie, and this is my husband, Gary. We came to see Honey yesterday and fell in love with her. We put in our adoption application and just got the call that she’s ours.”

  “Wow, really?” I said. They both seemed really nice. “That’s awesome.”

  “Our dog died a few months ago,” Gary said. “We miss her a lot. And Honey reminds us of her.”

  “So much energy!” Katie said. She knelt down again. “You’re going to like it at our house, Honey. We’ve got a nice fenced-in yard. Plenty of room to run and play.”

  Lynn walked up and took the leash from my hand. “Thanks for walking her,” she told me. Then she looked at Honey. “I’m going to miss you, girl!”

  She gave the leash to Katie, and she and Gary took Honey over to the shelter’s main office. I was so glad she’d be getting a new home today. That’s when I noticed that Zoe was outside with her mom—and cradling a tiny black kitten.

  Curious, I jogged over to Zoe while the other girls brought the dogs back inside.

  “
Hi, Mrs. Quinlan,” I said to Zoe’s mom.

  “Hi, Devin,” she replied.

  “Um, I thought my mom was picking us up?” I asked.

  “She still is,” Mrs. Quinlan replied. “I’m only here because Zoe texted me a picture of this little cutie.” She patted the little black kitten on its head.

  “Isn’t she precious?” Zoe asked. “Listen—she’s purring!”

  “She’s awfully cute,” I agreed.

  Zoe looked at her mom. “What do you think? Can we adopt her?” she asked, her blue eyes wide.

  “I wouldn’t have come down here if I wasn’t thinking about it,” her mom replied. “Does she have all of her shots?”

  Zoe nodded. “She’s healthy. She just needs to be spayed.”

  “And does she get along with other cats?” her mom asked. “Butterball is a sweetheart, but she’s used to being the only cat in the house.”

  “They said she’s very sweet with all of the other kittens,” Zoe said. “Please, Mom? Butterball is basically Jayne’s cat, anyway. I’ll take care of little Coco all by myself. I promise.”

  Mrs. Quinlan nodded. “Let’s go inside and fill out the application.”

  That’s when Frida walked up. She looked at Mrs. Quinlan, and then at Zoe holding the cat. She let out a gasp and ran up to them.

  “Are you adopting that kitten?” she asked.

  “We’re going to apply,” Zoe answered, and then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “No. Don’t you dare say it.”

  “But I have to say it! Your fortune came true! You have made a new friend!” Frida said.

  “I warned you not to say it,” Zoe said, shaking her head.

  “What is this about?” Zoe’s mom asked.

  “Nothing,” Zoe said quickly. “Let’s go fill out the forms.”

  “Come on, Devin,” Frida said to me after they’d gone inside. “You have to admit that this is more than a coincidence.”

  “Hmmm,” I said slowly. “Is a cat the same as a friend?”

  “Of course it is!” Frida replied. “Sometimes animals can be even better friends than people.” Then she counted silently on her fingers. “That’s four fortunes that have come true, Devin. You’re the last one! I bet soon, you’re going to hear about a big trip.”