Coach Wu had designated Jojo, who wasn’t varsity but did an okay job at soccer in PE, and Erin (who else) as co-captains of the first game. They shook hands with the captain of the other team. Then the referee tossed a coin to see who won the right to choose which team got the ball first and which end they got to defend.
After that, we ran out onto the field and got into our positions. I danced in place from one foot to the other and studied our opponents as I waited for the starting whistle. Was the tall, pale blonde girl on the left wing as fast as her long legs seemed to indicate? Or was she one of those tall people who trips over her own feet? Still, her height could be a problem close to the goal because clumsy or not, she could get up to head the ball in. A small dark-skinned girl with black hair in tiny braids who was in center midfield position also worried me. In my experience on the soccer field, small people are often fast and sneaky and very aggressive. I wonder if they’re extra aggressive because they’re short.
One girl who was in left midfield I recognized as having Down syndrome. She was wearing a layer of long underwear under her uniform. (I remembered that people with Down syndrome often caught colds more easily.) She looked strong and competent. I’d have to keep an eye on her, too.
I sighed inwardly. Defense was way too much responsibility.
One thing was certain: The other team had better uniforms — real uniforms. The Stoneybrook United team members were all wearing purple shirts with the numbers put on the back in white tape.
The whistle blew and I forgot about uniforms.
From the sidelines I heard “YAAAAAAY UNITED!” and looked over to see every member of the BSC plus what looked like at least half of our sitting charges. They were holding up signs and clapping and cheering loudly. I smiled and waved and went to work.
It would not do to let the fans down.
But I did.
I don’t know what happened. I’d take the ball and try to dribble it up to get a shot, and I’d lose it. More than once, when I was on a really good roll toward the goal, I would hear Coach Wu shout, “ABBY! GET BACK IN POSITION!”
At first I did, as soon as I took the shot. But when the other team scored twice on us, I began to ignore her. Somebody had to score, and it didn’t look like our front line was up to it.
Our team clearly didn’t understand the concept of total soccer. When I went forward, I got no support. None of my teammates dropped back to cover for me. No one ran alongside so I could pass to her in case I needed to. The defensive players swarmed over me, and even I could not work my way out of such heavy traffic in front of the goal to get off a shot.
Erin scored one goal. A defender had stolen the ball from me, and before she could clear it out, Annalise, one of our wings, had tapped it free. It skidded to Erin’s feet and she fired at the goal. Since she was only a few feet away, she could hardly have missed.
It was luck.
My bad luck.
We ended the game 2–1.
I was in no mood for the pep talk Coach Wu made after the game, and I tuned her out as she rambled on and on about position and teamwork.
I didn’t want to smile when Karen led the charge of BSC members and kids, crying, “We’re the Stoneybrook United Booster Club. See?” She pointed to a button on her jacket that read, STONEYBROOK UNITED RULES.
“Nice button,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “You guys were really cheering, too.” I could hear the lack of joy in my voice, but fortunately Karen and the other kids didn’t. Karen beamed.
Charlotte Johanssen said, “We’ll have better cheers next time. Then you’ll win.”
“It’s not your fault we lost, Char. You guys were great.” Anger at the memory of how we had lost the game added new warmth to my voice. “Really great,” I added. “Thanks.”
“Next game,” said Kristy.
“Yeah,” I said. I walked away, in Erin’s direction. If Coach Wu wasn’t going to do anything, maybe Erin and I could have a little talk and straighten out her problems.
Erin looked up and smiled at me as she dragged her cleats off and stuffed them into her gear bag. “We’ll win next time,” she said cheerfully.
“Good game,” I forced myself to say with a phony smile.
“Thank you,” said Erin, almost formally.
I waited, but she didn’t tell me I had played a good game. Not that it mattered.
“I think our team could be a winning team,” I went on. Erin stood up and hoisted her gear bag to her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but she looked at me intently. “But we have to play like a team,” I said. “For example, I could have scored several times today if the rest of the team had given me the support I needed.”
Erin frowned as she was turning my words over and over in her head. Then she said, “But you play defense. They scored because you weren’t in your place.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“You didn’t stay where you were supposed to stay,” she said.
“I ran through with the ball,” I said. “It’s called total soccer, and someone on our team was supposed to cover for me.”
Erin shook her head. “Coach Wu said for you to stay in your place and you didn’t.”
“Excuse me,” I said with elaborate courtesy, “but I think I know a little bit more about soccer than you do.”
That’s when Erin got me. “Why?” She looked at me directly, and I saw a flash of anger in her eyes. “Because I have intellectual disabilities? Do you think I can’t play as well as you because of that?”
“I didn’t say that!” I cried.
“I stay in my position. And I scored. I am a good player. Better than you,” she said.
I couldn’t believe my ears. “That’s what you think,” was the best I could manage before I turned and stalked away.
As I did, I heard the Boosters launch into a huge cheer for Stoneybrook United. I looked up to see the rest of the team converging on its new Booster Club, and I made myself scarce.
* * *
“How did you do?” asked Anna as I trudged past her room to my own. She was practicing her violin.
“If you’d been there, you’d know,” I said, even though I hadn’t expected Anna or Mom to show up. In fact, I’d told them to come later in the season when the team was “more together.” Translation: By then, I figured I’d have my spot as center forward.
“You lost,” guessed Anna.
“Yeah. So?” I snapped. I stomped to my room, fell across the bed sideways, and flung one arm over my eyes.
“Abby?”
“Hi, Mom,” I said, without removing my arm.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I said wearily.
She came into my room and I felt the bed sink as she sat down on one side of it. “I’m guessing you lost today.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s just the first game. There will be others.”
“I know.”
After a moment, Mom said, “So about our trip to Long Island.”
“What about it?”
“Abby, I don’t like your tone of voice.”
“And I don’t like the idea of going to Long Island. It’s not like I was asked if I wanted to go. You tried to trick us into agreeing by taking us to some fancy New York restaurant.”
“Abby!”
“Well, it won’t work. I don’t want to go. I think it is a bad idea. A very bad idea. Rotten, in fact.” I sat up and glared at my mother as if she were an enemy soccer player in my territory. “You can’t bribe me with dinner like I’m one of your stupid authors or something.”
That did it. With two spots of color burning on her cheeks, my mother stood up. She said, “I think we’ve discussed this enough. We’ll talk about it more when you are less upset about losing a soccer game.”
“I’m not upset,” I practically shouted. “Why don’t you just leave me alone!”
“Certainly.” Mom walked across the room and out the door, closing it firmly behind her.
I flopped back down and threw my arm across my eyes. I felt the hot sting of tears against my eyelids, but of course I wasn’t going to cry.
The words of an old song came back to me.
Alone again.
Naturally.
The Booster Club arrived in fine form. Everyone was wearing the Stoneybrook United colors of purple and white. Some of the kids had even painted their faces. And everyone wore buttons with slogans like, “I’m a Stoneybrook United Fan.”
Although Mary Anne and the rest of the BSC were all purpled up, too, they had not gone to the extreme of painting their faces. Claudia had decorated an oversized T-shirt for the occasion with purple-and-white soccer balls and had made earrings to match. Kristy was wearing a purple baseball hat covered with buttons. Stacey wore a purple silk T-shirt, and Mary Anne was wearing a purple striped shirt. Jessi had on a purple leotard, while Mallory was wearing purple-and-white-striped socks and a white hat with a booster button on it. Charlotte, Vanessa, and Haley had on their Krusher cheerleader outfits — denim skirts and white socks — but they were wearing purple T-shirts and had tied purple ribbons to their pom-poms.
Stoneybrook United was very appreciative. When the Boosters broke into a pregame cheer of “TWO, FOUR, SIX, EIGHT, WHO DO WE APPRECIATE?” the team members put their heads together, then came up with a cheer of their own: “LOOK IN THE STANDS! HOORAY FOR OUR FANS!”
Silly but nice.
It didn’t take Mary Anne long to notice that I wasn’t smiling. In fact, I was scowling.
“Wow,” Mary Anne said softly to Kristy. “Abby really does take sports seriously.”
Kristy glanced over toward me and said, “I guess so. We should have known, though.”
On the other side of Kristy, Claudia laughed. “We’ve never seen her play, but it shouldn’t surprise us.”
Still, it seemed extreme to Mary Anne that I not only did not say hello to them, but I never once looked in their direction. Nor did I say much of anything to any of my teammates, even when the team was warming up.
Mary Anne knew some of the students from Stoneybrook Middle School, of course. Others she didn’t recognize. But as she watched them warm up, she soon realized both teams had players who had a wide range of skill levels. Some were clearly beginners. Some were not very good. Others were obviously more skilled, more experienced. Some of the players acted a little young for their ages, giggling and squealing as they kicked the ball or ran up and down the field warming up.
But overall, Mary Anne couldn’t really tell who were the partners and who were the athletes. Both were teams, she realized, much like any other team.
Except that before the first half was over, it was all too clear that my team was having problems.
And that I was definitely one of those problems.
“What’s Abby doing?” asked Stacey. “She keeps running up the field with the ball and then losing it.”
“She’s not passing it,” said Kristy grimly.
Logan, who had just arrived, said, “What position is she playing?”
“I don’t know,” Mary Anne said.
Suddenly, Erin burst through the pack of players with the ball at her feet. She faked left and dodged right around a defender, pulled her foot back, and launched a rocket shot into the high right corner of the goal.
The goalie never had a chance.
The Stoneybrook United players who were on the bench erupted into cheers. “GO, ERIN!” they shouted.
The three booster cheerleaders picked up on Erin’s name and began, “TWO, FOUR, SIX, EIGHT, WHO DO WE APPRECIATE? ERIN ERIN ERIN!”
Out on the field, Erin’s teammates converged on her, slapping her on the back and leaping and skipping with joy. Even the goalie ran out from the goal to give Erin a celebratory thump on the shoulder.
But I didn’t.
Mary Anne watched in amazement as I coolly trotted back into my position without even a show of excitement that the team was now ahead, 1–0.
But the Booster Club didn’t notice.
“This is great,” Mary Anne heard Karen say in her loudest outdoor voice to Hannie Papadakis. “I’m going to be a soccer player someday and have everybody cheer for me!”
“Me, too,” said Hannie instantly.
Behind the two girls, Shannon the puppy began to bark excitedly as David Michael and Linny Papadakis raced up and down the sidelines, shouting encouragement.
Mary Anne, Kristy, and Claudia looked over at them, smiling at their enthusiasm. Then, suddenly, Shannon veered to one side, pulling David Michael with her. She pulled him into the middle of some of the Kickers, who were doing a passing drill with an extra ball on the sidelines.
“Look,” said Hannie. “Shannon’s playing soccer.”
“Woof, woof,” barked Shannon excitedly, charging for the ball.
“No, Shannon. Stop! Stay! Come!” gasped David Michael. At that moment he tripped and fell and lost his grip on the leash.
Shannon butted the ball with her head and it rolled away from her. She wagged her tail even faster as she decided that she had invented a new game. She chased the ball and crashed into it again as the Kickers began to laugh and run after her.
As neatly as if she had been playing soccer all her life, Shannon dodged the players, still keeping the ball.
“Oh, no!” said Kristy. She could see what was going to happen next. She took off after Shannon, along with the Lawrenceville players and David Michael and Linny.
“Shannon, come back!” David Michael cried.
Shannon ignored him. She pushed the ball ahead of her with her nose — straight toward the field.
The referee blew his whistle and the game began again. One of the Kickers sent a long pass downfield. Her left wing ran after it, never taking her eyes from the ball.
She didn’t even see Shannon.
“NOOOO!” shouted Kristy — and half a dozen other fans and players.
But it was no use. The Kicker wing tripped over Shannon and went flying through the air. Shannon spun around with a yelp of surprise.
Jojo jumped on the end of Shannon’s leash with both feet and brought her to a stop as the referee began to blow his whistle again.
Shannon began to lick the ear of the Kicker who was still sprawled on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” David Michael panted, his face very red.
The wing sat up. Shannon licked her chin and the girl began to laugh. “Wow,” she said. “That was an amazing tackle.”
“You’re not hurt?” asked Kristy.
“No,” said the girl. “Just surprised.”
The referee ran to them. “Which team is this dog registered to play on?” he asked.
David Michael looked anxious. “She’s not on a team, but she’s an SB United Booster Club member.”
“If she’s not registered, she can’t play,” said the referee, his face serious but his eyes crinkling at the corners with suppressed laughter. “She’ll have to leave the field.”
“Y-yes, sir!” said David Michael. “Come on, Shannon!” He took the leash from Kristy and ran off the field.
“Sorry about that,” said Kristy.
“No problem,” said the referee. He picked up the ball. “Drop ball from where the play stopped,” he decreed.
He waited until everyone but the people who were supposed to be on the field had left. Then the wing and Jojo faced off as the referee dropped the ball and both tried to kick it. The Kicker wing got it and Jojo took off after her.
“That was awesome,” said Karen. “Maybe I’ll be a dog trainer and train a dog soccer team.”
Kristy’s eyes met Mary Anne’s and she, Mary Anne, and Claudia all burst out laughing.
At halftime, the Booster Club did a brisk business in button sales. Karen attached buttons to Shannon’s collar, and she and David Michael walked the puppy through the crowd. “Buy your official SB United button from the team mascot!” Karen called.
The three cheerleaders did button cheers: “Don’
t just shout, don’t just scream! Buy a button and help your team!”
Over by the SB United bench, we drank water and Gatorade and listened intently as Coach Wu talked and drew diagrams on her clipboard.
“It’s a good game,” Jessi said.
“I hope our team wins,” Mallory added.
Kristy looked thoughtful, but she didn’t say anything. Logan said, “They could use some practice on their teamwork. They’re not moving the ball around very well. You can’t rely on just one player to score for you.”
Mary Anne remained silent, too, watching the SB United team as Coach Wu talked. She saw me look up suddenly and speak. The coach said something and I said something back. The coach shook her head. I flung one arm out and pointed toward Erin. Erin immediately pointed back and we glared at each other.
We reminded Mary Anne of two little kids about to have a fight on the playground.
Coach Wu said something that stopped the fight. I looked down again and Erin tilted her chin up and looked away. Coach Wu looked from me to Erin, then began drawing another diagram on her clipboard.
I didn’t start the second half. Many players didn’t, but Erin did.
As the game went on, I sat stiffly on the bench, my arms folded.
Then Mary Anne watched a heavyset girl who didn’t run much but always seemed to be in the right place at the right time jump up as a high ball was crossed in front of the goal. She hit the ball with a twist of her body and headed it in for the Kickers.
A groan went up from the SB United fans, while the Kickers fans went wild.
The score was now 1–1.
“Oh, no!” shouted Haley. “The Lawrenceville footballers are ahead!”
Karen frowned. “They’re playing soccer,” she said.
“Whatever,” said Haley.
Karen put her hands on her hips. She is a stickler for rules, and it was easy to see that she felt as if someone weren’t sticking to the rules. But before she could argue, Vanessa said, “We’ve got to get another goal before the Kickers get on a roll.” Even in times of crisis, Vanessa usually doesn’t forget she wants to be a poet.
Abby the Bad Sport Page 4