by Alex Morgan
Oh no, I thought, mortified. I had fallen asleep in class!
Cody looked at me, shaking his head and smiling. I wanted to dive under the desk! Thankfully, Mrs. Johnson didn’t make a big deal out of it and kept talking.
There was no chance of me falling asleep in class after that, because I was so freaked out by what had happened that my adrenaline was pumping and my right foot was tapping on the floor. When the bell rang, Mrs. Johnson stopped me on the way out.
“Are you feeling well, Devin?” she asked.
“Fine,” I replied. “Just didn’t get much sleep last night. Sorry about that.”
She shook her head. “You kids, up all night texting your friends.”
That wasn’t the reason, but I didn’t bother to explain. I just raced for my next class and promised myself I wouldn’t fall asleep again. Luckily, I was with seventh graders for the rest of my classes, so nobody knew what had happened—or so I thought.
I was entering the cafeteria when Steven walked up to me. We hadn’t really talked in a few days, because he’d been walking Hailey to English class ever since her first day. So I was glad to see him.
“Hey, Devin,” he said. “Heard you had a nice nap in Mrs. Johnson’s class.”
A couple of boys behind him heard and laughed. I knew he wasn’t being mean, just teasing me a little. But it hit me the wrong way. My eyes started welling up with tears.
Steven noticed. “Don’t stress about it,” he said quickly. “Her voice could put anybody to sleep.”
“Thanks,” I said, and then I hurried away. Talk about mortifying! First falling asleep in class, and now practically crying in front of Steven! What was wrong with me?
I sat down at the table next to Jessi, put down my lunch bag—and then I started to cry for real just as Zoe, Emma, and Frida walked up.
“Oh my gosh, Devin, what’s wrong?” Emma asked, sitting down next to me.
“Nothing,” I said. “Or maybe everything. I don’t know.”
“Is it the soccer thing?” Jessi asked.
“It’s that, and so much more,” I said, and then everything came spilling out of me—my three cavities, not sleeping, losing my soccer mojo, and not being sure why Steven wasn’t talking to me so much anymore.
“And then not only did I fall asleep in class, but when Steven asked me about it, I practically started sobbing all over him!” I said. “I’m a mess!”
“Poor Devin!” Emma cried, reaching over to hug me.
“Group hug!” Zoe yelled, and everyone jumped up and gathered around, crushing me.
“All right! Calm down! We’re in the middle of the cafeteria!” I said, giggling, as the hug broke up and everyone sat down.
“Dev, I’m so sorry,” Jessi said. “You’re always so confident. Like, more confident than any of us. I had no idea you were feeling this way.”
“It’s because Devin keeps her feelings locked inside,” Frida said, putting her hand in front of her face. “Her confidence is a mask.”
I groaned. “Really, Frida?”
“I don’t think it’s a mask,” Zoe said. “Devin, you are really confident. It’s just that now your confidence is shaken. So as your friends, we need to help you get it back.”
“Yeah, we’ll be the Devin Confidence Squad!” Emma said, high-fiving Zoe.
I laughed. “So how, exactly, will you help me get my confidence back?”
“I don’t know!” said Emma cheerfully. “But we’ll figure it out!”
“Well, we can start by sticking together,” Zoe said. “Since we don’t have soccer practice today, I’ll come help you guys with Maisie’s team practice.”
“Me too,” said Jessi quickly.
I thought about that. “Well, I was kind of thinking of having a Maisie-free day, but since you guys are all going to be there . . .”
“That’s the spirit!” Emma cheered.
She held up her water bottle, and we all lifted up our beverages and touched them together. I might have lost confidence about a lot of things, but I was confident in one thing: I had the best friends a person could ever want.
I managed to stay awake for the rest of the afternoon, all the way through English class. And I was so embarrassed about almost crying in front of Steven that I was sort of relieved when Steven walked Hailey to English class. I wasn’t ready to face him just yet.
After school I went home to change, and then Mom drove me and Jessi to Maisie’s practice at the elementary school field. She seemed really happy to do it, in fact.
“It’s so nice that you want to help your little sister, Devin,” she said.
I didn’t tell Mom that it hadn’t been my idea to do this. And I had to admit that the reason I had agreed to was to be with all my friends, but it felt good to help out Maisie too.
“Wow, this brings back memories,” Jessi remarked after Mom dropped both of us off.
There were eighteen eight-year-old girls on the elementary school field, each one randomly dribbling a soccer ball. Zoe, Emma, and Frida were setting up orange cones on the field to make a square.
“Yeah, I remember my first soccer team,” I said. “I started a little younger than Maisie, though. I think I was five. I remember crying when it was time to leave practice. Can you believe that?”
“Yes, I can, because you sleep, eat, and breathe soccer,” Jessi replied with a grin. “I bet you learned how to dribble before you could walk.”
“Well, for a lot of these girls, it’s their first team,” I said, nodding to the field. “Dad says they need a lot of help with basic skills.”
“What did I say?” Dad asked, jogging up behind us.
“Just that we need to work on basics with this team,” I said.
Dad nodded. “We do. But thanks to you and your friends, we have the right equipment to get it done. You girls should feel really proud of that.”
Dad was talking about the fact that the youth soccer program at Maisie’s school had almost been cut because of a lack of funding. So my four soccer friends and I had put together a big fund-raiser to try to help out. We had raised enough money, and then some, to get the team back on its feet. (It hadn’t hurt that Frida’s movie-star costar, Brady McCoy, had showed up at the fund-raiser too.) We’d raised enough money to buy all the equipment the girls needed. Dad and some other parents had volunteered to coach the teams, and the program had been saved.
“We do feel proud,” I said, smiling.
Dad glanced over at the field. The cones squared off an area about fifteen feet by fifteen feet.
“All right. Let’s get this show on the road,” Dad said. He clapped and then ran toward the field. “All right, Panthers! Pick up your soccer balls and gather around.”
I noticed that the girls obeyed Dad pretty quickly, without a lot of giggling or goofing around. That was a good sign, I thought. It meant they respected Dad as a coach. Emma, Frida, and Zoe came and stood by me and Jessi.
“We’ve got some extra helpers today,” Dad said. “You all remember Jessi, Devin, and Zoe, right?”
Jessi, Zoe, and I waved hello to the girls, and they waved back. Besides Maisie, I recognized Juliet, a little girl with short blond hair, and Kaylin, who had long, brown braids. We called Juliet “mini-Zoe,” and Kaylin “mini-Jessi” because they looked like mini versions of my friends. And Jessi insisted on calling Maisie “mini-Devin.” We sort of did look alike, even though Maisie’s brown hair was shorter than mine.
“All right. Our first drill is called No Toes!” Dad announced. “I want to see you all dribble around the inside of the square. Try to keep control of the ball so it doesn’t leave the square. And when you’re dribbling, remember not to use your toes.”
Dad dropped a ball in front of him and started to demonstrate. “Start with the inside of your foot. Then the outside of your foot. Then practice with the bottom of your foot, and then your laces. Got it?”
“Got it, Coach!” the girls called out in unison.
The girls ran into the
square and started dribbling. They had looks of intense concentration on their faces. Mini-Zoe was sticking her tongue out.
“Aren’t they so cute?” Emma whispered.
“Definitely,” I replied.
“You five head in there and watch what they’re doing,” Dad said. “Help them out if they need it.”
We jogged into the square, and Emma clapped her hands. “Okay, so inside, outside, bottom, laces,” she chanted.
“Inside, outside, bottom, laces!” the girls repeated.
I had never thought about it before, but Emma made a really good coach! Her naturally positive attitude brought great energy to the practice.
I chanted along with them and zigzagged around the girls, watching them practice.
“No toes!” I instructed one girl, and she nodded and kicked it with the inside of her foot instead.
The girls got the hang of it, pretty much, and after a few minutes Dad blew his whistle.
“Great job! Now I think we’re ready for some Keep Away,” Dad said. He turned to me and my friends. “Girls, please make the square a little smaller for me. And can you demonstrate how this one is done?”
“Sure!” Emma answered for us. We had all done this drill as kids. “I’ll defend. Jessi, Devin, and Zoe, you can be attackers.”
“And I’ll set the scene,” Frida said, as the rest of us quickly went to work moving the cones to make a smaller square. Then Frida explained things to the little girls. “Jessi, Zoe, and Devin are the attackers, and they will start with control of the ball. Emma is the defender, and she has to try to get the ball away from them. The attackers must pass the ball between them ten times to score a goal. If the defender intercepts the ball and kicks it out of the square, she scores a goal.”
The Panthers looked a little bit confused.
“Don’t worry. It’s easy once you see it,” Emma said. “Watch.”
“Oh, and I forgot one rule,” Frida called out. “Each attacker can touch the ball only twice before passing it.”
“Got it!” Jessi said, stopping the ball that Dad threw into the square.
Emma ran right up to her, trying to get the ball from her. Jessi turned her back to Emma, kicked the ball a few feet in front of her, and then passed it to Zoe.
Emma sped after the ball, but she wasn’t fast enough. Zoe stopped the ball and then quickly passed it to me.
I stopped the ball and then made a quick pass, right to—Emma? I was supposed to be keeping it away from Emma! She kicked the ball out of the square and let out a triumphant “Woo-hoo!”
I didn’t know what had happened. I’d spaced out, I guessed. I’d been excited to pass the ball and had passed it to the closest player without thinking. What a rookie mistake!
Some of the little girls were laughing.
“Hey, don’t laugh at my sister!” I heard Maisie say. “She’s the best soccer player in the whole world.”
That was awfully sweet of Maisie, and I probably would have appreciated it if I hadn’t felt so embarrassed.
“So, um, do we need another demonstration?” Jessi asked.
I jogged out of the square. “Frida, you’re in for me,” I said.
My four friends demonstrated the drill again, and this time Emma was a little more challenged to intercept the ball. Jessi, Zoe, and Frida completed ten passes and won the round.
“Think you guys can do this?” Emma asked the younger girls, and they all cheered, “Yes!” Then Emma picked Maisie and three other girls to give the drill a try.
I moved away from the action and leaned against a tree.
So much for confidence. The only thing I was confident of now was that my soccer mojo was gone, and I had no idea how to get it back!
When Maisie’s practice was done, I said good-bye to my friends and climbed into the Marshmallow with Dad and Maisie.
“Thanks for your help today, Devin,” Dad said.
“Yeah,” said Maisie. “That was fun.”
“Uh-huh,” I said lamely, staring out the window. I couldn’t even enjoy Maisie acting like a human toward me, because I was so depressed about losing my soccer mojo.
When we got home, I showered, did homework, and ate dinner, feeling blah with every step. The only thing that nudged me out of my mood was a group text I got after dinner, originating from Emma.
Devin, your best friends are cordially inviting you to Pizza Kitchen tomorrow after soccer practice. RSVP ASAP.
I giggled when I saw the message, and then I went down and asked Mom if it was okay. She said yes, and I texted back right away.
I’ll be there. What’s up?
Wouldn’t you like to know? Emma replied.
I had no idea what my friends were planning, but just getting the text made me feel a lot better. I went to sleep looking forward to the next day, and I actually slept through the night. I felt a little more like myself the next morning.
Not that the next day was perfect or anything. Far from it. Things didn’t get annoying until after lunch (where I begged everyone to tell me what was up, but nobody would), when I went to World Civ class. Mr. Emmet handed back our tests on the Roman empire, and mine had a big red 58 on it, just like I’d feared. I knew that was an F.
“Some of you in the class had trouble with this test,” Mr. Emmet announced. “I’m wondering if it had something to do with the earthquake the night before. If you’re interested in taking a retest, come talk to me after class.”
At first I felt relieved. A retest meant the chance to improve my grade! And that thought made me happy, until the bell rang. As I headed toward Mr. Emmet’s desk, I saw Steven move toward me, like he was going to ask me to walk with him. Hailey was hanging right behind him.
But I had to talk to Mr. Emmet, so I shrugged and kind of motioned toward the desk, where a few other kids had gathered. Now Steven and Hailey knew that I had failed the test! So embarrassing. I felt like melting into the floor.
Mr. Emmet put me on the list for the retest, and I headed to English. Steven and Hailey were laughing about something, and I felt a pang of jealousy as I took my seat. I did my best to shrug it off. It shouldn’t have bothered me that Steven was talking to another girl. I just sort of missed having his attention on me.
Then, after school, Mom brought me to practice. We had a scrimmage, and because we had to divide up our team to play against each other, I got to play the whole game.
I played okay, but not my best. I didn’t mess up—well, not badly, anyway.
A couple of times I lost focus and wasn’t on top of the ball when I should have been.
“Look alive, Devin!” Coach Darby called out.
I tried to stop being a soccer zombie and made a few good passes, but I didn’t score any goals. I had probably failed to really impress Coach Darby.
So what was to blame? Bad luck? Not-so-good luck? Or had I really, truly lost my soccer skills? As I walked off the field, I imagined a poster in my head: MISSING! DEVIN’S SOCCER MOJO. LAST SEEN ON THE PINEWOOD SOCCER FIELD.
After practice Jessi was all smiles as we got into Mom’s car to head to the pizza place.
“I wish I knew what you guys were up to,” I said.
“It’s no big deal,” Jessi replied. “Anyway, you’ll find out soon.”
When we got to Pizza Kitchen, Emma, Frida, and Zoe had already found us a round table. Tied to one of the chairs was a silver-and-blue helium balloon with the words “YOU’RE AWESOME!” written on it. Emma pulled out the chair and motioned for me to sit.
“You guys are too much,” I said as the balloon bounced against my head.
“Well, you are awesome,” Zoe said.
“We ordered a pepperoni pizza,” Emma said. “No pineapple or kale or anything.”
I smiled. My friends knew that I still hadn’t gotten used to California pizza toppings.
“Excellent!” I said. “So, what is this about? You can’t keep me in suspense any longer!”
“One more minute,” Emma said as a server came by w
ith a tray of drinks and set one down in front of each of us. Emma picked up her glass and motioned for the rest of us to do the same.
“To Devin!” Emma said, clinking glasses with us.
“To Devin!” my friends repeated.
I was sure I was blushing. “Seriously? It’s not like it’s my birthday or anything.”
“No, but let’s just say it’s We’re Grateful for Devin Day,” Emma said. “You have always helped us out when we needed it. Now it’s our turn to help you.”
“Aww, guys,” I said. “You’re so sweet, but I mean, we all help one another.”
“But you started it,” Zoe said. “Everything changed when you came to Kentville, Devin.”
That was a huge thing for Zoe to say, and I almost wasn’t sure if I had heard her right. I looked around the table and saw Jessi, Emma, and Frida all nodding in agreement.
“You gave the Kicks the drive to win,” Emma said. “I thought I was a lousy soccer player, until you figured out that I would make a good goalie. I never even thought of that, but you did.”
“You’re not just a good goalie; you’re a great goalie,” I told her.
“And you helped me get my math grades up so I could stay on the team,” Jessi said. “I owe you big for that, Devin.”
“You don’t owe me anything!” I insisted. “I’m your friend.”
“And I hated soccer, remember?” Frida asked. “My mom was forcing me to do it, and I dreaded every practice and every game. But you taught me how to make it fun, by imagining I was acting every time I was on the field. It really works.”
Emma nodded. “Besides, it’s hilarious.”
“Totally,” I agreed.
“And you helped me, too,” Zoe said. “I froze up like an ice cube every time I got onto the field. But you’re the one who figured out that Frida could help cure me by teaching me her tricks for overcoming stage fright.”
“And now you’re a superstar!” Frida said.
“Not a superstar, but it feels so good to be confident on the field,” said Zoe. “So I know how you must feel to lose your confidence out there. It stinks.”
I nodded. “Yes, it does,” I said. “But you guys don’t need to thank me for all that! I was all alone when I came to Kentville. I didn’t know anybody. You guys came to my rescue, remember? You were so nice right from the start, and you stuck by me when we tried to fix the Kicks.”