by Alex Morgan
CHAPTER TEN
“Nice goal on Wednesday!” one of the eighth-grade soccer boys shouted sarcastically at Emma as she, Jessi, Zoe, and I walked by him on Friday on our way to our usual courtyard lunch spot. He put his fist up in the air in mock salute.
I couldn’t help flinching even though he wasn’t talking to me.
“Thank you, thank you,” Emma called back while curtsying. “My best goal ever!”
“How are you not embarrassed?” I asked Emma. I wanted to be embarrassed for her. “You’re acting like it’s just a big joke. And I know it was an accident, but we lost the game.”
“What’s the big deal?” Emma said. “It’s not like we would have won anyway, and honestly, I figure it’s better to just embrace my stupid mistake than feel too terrible about it. Plus, we all lost together, right? My brother said soccer is the ultimate team game.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, impressed. I really admired Emma. I would have wanted to crawl under a rock or pretend I was sick and skip school. But she didn’t let it bother her.
As we settled into our spots and began to eat our lunches, Brianna, Sarah, and Anna showed up. “Hey, Devin!” Brianna called. “Thanks for inviting us.”
“We’re a team!” I smiled. The game had been awful, it was true, but standing up to Mirabelle had given me new confidence. My dad was right. Our team needed leadership, but not the nasty kind offered by Mirabelle. I wanted to bring us together. It was time for me to start acting like a captain, not Mirabelle’s puppet.
“What happened between you and Mirabelle at the game?” Anna asked, her brown eyes curious. “I saw her grab you in the locker room.”
“You know Mirabelle,” I said, trying to play it off. I hadn’t told the other girls about how Mirabelle hadn’t wanted Emma to play.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “There is no making that girl happy!”
Jessi was once again furiously scribbling in her notebook, not paying attention to our conversation.
“More last-minute homework?” I asked her.
She sighed. “I totally forgot about the Spanish assignment, and I’m still doing terrible in math.”
“I told you I would help you!” I reminded her. “Anytime! All you have to do is ask.”
“Devin is in eighth-grade algebra,” Zoe reminded her. “You couldn’t get a better tutor!”
“It’s all just so boring!” Jessi complained. I could understand. Jessi was always full of energy. It was hard to picture her sitting quietly studying. She always needed to be doing something.
“But you can’t just not do the work for the class,” Brianna said, shocked. The more I got to know her, the more I realized she was a typical overachiever. Straight As in everything and always rushing off to one extracurricular after another. You could tell Brianna would never dream of watching a reality TV show instead of doing her homework.
Jessi looked embarrassed. “Let’s just change the subject,” she said. “How about the dance tonight? Aren’t you guys excited?”
We all nodded. “Definitely,” I said. “And I overheard Cody say to Steven in English yesterday about how he’s going to the dance.” I gave her a sly look.
“You’re making that up. If he said that, then why didn’t I hear him?” said Jessi. She threw a pretzel at me.
“It couldn’t have been because you were concentrating on your work!” I exclaimed with a laugh as I tossed the pretzel back at her.
And once again we all started laughing. I couldn’t believe that I had been in school for a little less than two weeks, and here I was surrounded by friends. I had come a long way from hiding in the bathroom stall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We met up at Emma’s house before the dance to get ready. When I got there, Emma and Zoe were already crowded into her bathroom, playing around with some makeup.
“Whoa, you look great,” I said to Emma. She was out of her usual uniform of shapeless hoodies and shorts, and had on a light blue sleeveless dress with white polka dots, and a white patent leather belt around her waist. Her hair was tied up into its usual bun, but she had added tiny silk flowers for decoration.
“Zoe helped me pick the dress out,” Emma said. Zoe was on her tippy toes, looking into the mirror and fussing with the front of her hair. She had on a slim dress with a Peter Pan collar, and her legs were wrapped in dark floral tights. As always she looked like she had just stepped out of a magazine. Zoe waved at me from her reflection as she perfected her bangs.
“My mom is demanding that we take pictures before we leave,” Emma continued.
“Awesome,” I said. “I need a cute picture of the four of us.”
“Here, let me do your makeup,” Zoe said, pulling me in front of the mirror. Lip gloss, mascara, and eye shadow were littered around the countertop. It looked like she had borrowed everything she could get her hands on from her older sisters. She put mascara on my eyelashes, a tiny bit of peach blush on my cheeks, and topped it all off with some sparkly light pink lip gloss.
I gazed at myself in the mirror, unused to seeing myself with makeup on. “It looks so natural!” I said.
Jessi showed up after we had gotten ready, just in time for pictures. She had on a silver sequin top and black pants, and her hair was pulled to one side.
“Fashionably late, as usual, Jessi,” Emma teased.
Jessi looked glum. “My mom almost didn’t let me come. My math teacher gave her a call this afternoon.” She shook her head. “But let’s forget about that. You guys look fantastic!”
“So do you!” I said, and we gathered in front of Emma’s fireplace for photos.
My soccer pals sure did clean up nice!
After Emma’s brother dropped us off at school, we headed inside to the gymnasium. The place had been given a complete makeover. A giant banner with the words “NEON NIGHTS” scrawled across welcomed us as we walked in. Festive bunches of balloons were scattered around the edges of the room, and the walls were draped with glow-in-the-dark posters. Black spotlights made the white and neon colors glow. To add to the effect, everyone was wearing flashing necklaces and bracelets.
“Oh, look!” said Jessi. “They’re giving those away.” Jessi strode confidently toward the far wall, where a bunch of boys were jumping up and down to the pounding music. The three of us followed. After we got some glowing plastic jewelry, we headed to the snack table and munched cookies and sipped juice. We watched the dance floor, where groups of boys and girls gathered, completely separated. Every once in a while one of the boys would hurl himself into a circle of girls, before laughing and rushing out again. His friends would cheer for him and slap his back enthusiastically when he rejoined them.
The music was getting really good, and Emma, Jessi, and I just had to dance. A bunch of the Kangaroos joined us on the dance floor: Brianna, Sarah, and Anna. Even two of the eighth graders, Grace and Anjali, danced with us for a little while. They both seemed really nice. It was a shame Mirabelle seemed determined to keep the team separated by grades. But at least we were getting a chance to hang out now!
At first Zoe wouldn’t move, even though we dragged her onto the floor and bumped hips with her. But our enthusiasm was contagious, and we eventually wore her down. She started bobbing around a little bit. Many songs later my hair was stuck to my forehead in sweaty clumps.
But then, suddenly, the music changed, going from upbeat dance music to a slow song. Everyone froze.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, startling me. It was Steven. Was he going to ask me to dance?
“Hey, um, my friend Matt wants to know if Zoe will dance with him,” he said. “Can you ask?” Ah, I guessed not.
I walked over to Zoe, who had been watching the whole exchange. Before I could even ask her, she shook her head.
“You don’t want to dance with Matt?” I asked.
“No, thanks,” Zoe said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Sorry,” I said to Steven, not really needing to translate. “I guess she
doesn’t want to.”
Emma stepped in. “Hey, Steven, I’ll dance with Matt.” Leave it to Emma to know what to do. “And Devin will dance with you.” Wait, what? I threw a dirty look at Emma.
“You w-will?” Steven stammered, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
I could have killed Emma. Sucking it up, I smiled at Steven and said, “Sure.” The three of us walked out onto the dance floor, where Matt materialized. Steven put his arms around my waist, and I draped my arms loosely over his shoulders. It was incredibly awkward. I hardly knew Steven!
Luckily, I spotted Jessi, who appeared next to us, dancing with Cody. Had Jessi asked Cody to dance? Wondering about that proved a good distraction, because it gave me a break from thinking about if my palms were sweaty or if my breath smelled. She gave me a thumbs-up, then mouthed something I couldn’t make out. I gave her a quizzical look, and she mouthed the words again: “He. Asked. Me.”
Cody had asked Jessi to dance! I gave her a big smile and a wink. When the song was over, Emma came rushing over and cut between me and Steven. “Matt told me there’s a photo booth! We gotta go!” I gave Steven a small smile, and he waved as he walked off. I looked over to Jessi, who kept dancing with Cody as a new song began to play.
“Jessi, we’re going out into the hall,” I called to her. “Come take pictures with us!”
Jessi excused herself from Cody and followed Emma and me. We grabbed Zoe on our way to the hallway, where a real old-fashioned photo booth had been set up.
Ahead of us in line a group of eighth graders was hogging the booth. Mirabelle was there, and so were a couple of the cool eighth graders from my algebra class. The whole group kept taking photos and cutting right back in for more.
“Hello, people are waiting,” Emma said. We were missing the dance, waiting for them to finish up.
“Winners can take as many photos as we want.” I recognized Trey Bishop, the eighth-grade captain of the boys’ soccer team, from the pep rally. He poked a finger at us. “You losers have to wait.”
A couple of the eighth graders started to crack up.
“So what? You’re good at soccer. Big whoop.” Emma wasn’t intimidated at all. “Get back in line,” she shot back.
“You guys shouldn’t even be called ‘Kangaroos.’ You’re a total embarrassment to the school,” Trey said.
“At least we don’t have to make fun of other people to feel good about ourselves,” I said angrily. If I could stand up to Mirabelle, I certainly could tell this bully off. Everyone behind us was gathering around to see what was going on.
“At least we don’t score on our own team.” Huge laughter, much louder this time. I noticed Mirabelle was laughing too. I felt my blood start to boil.
I guess seeing Mirabelle laughing put Zoe over the edge too. She pushed her way to stand next to Emma.
“Stop being jerks!” she yelled.
That did it. That finally shut everyone up.
But then the boys just started laughing harder. Mirabelle didn’t even try to hide her laughter. Some captain she was.
Stepping aside, Trey swept his arm out and motioned for us to use the photo booth. “Go right ahead,” he said, still laughing. “Take some pictures. Just give me a copy so I can show everyone what losers look like.”
As they walked away from the booth, they singsonged, “Losers, losers, losers.” Mirabelle followed them back into the gymnasium, laughing all the way. Traitor.
Our good mood was entirely ruined. We didn’t even feel like taking photos after that.
It felt like the Kangaroos had lost again, this time off the field. And as if Mirabelle had never been a true teammate, now she was acting like an outright enemy. That was no way for a team captain to act. I felt my eyes narrow. As the co-captain, it was up to me to do something. Mirabelle and I were going to have a little chat at practice on Monday. And this time I was looking forward to it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
That Sunday I told Kara over the phone all about what had happened at the dance.
“I can’t believe she just walked away and didn’t even stick up for you guys!” Kara said. “Well, maybe after everything you’ve told me about her, I can believe it. And her being a co-captain. It’s just horrible!”
“The team can’t keep going on like this. If Mirabelle can’t be a good leader, I guess it’s up to me,” I said.
“You can do it, Devin!” Kara said. “The Cosmos—you know what it’s like—we have a lot of team events, and the captains organize them. That’s part of our job. Last week it was a frozen-yogurt social. Another time we had a Saturday pizza party. How do you guys do team bonding?”
That was easy to answer: We didn’t.
Kara had some good ideas. So far the Kicks had had only lame practices and games that we couldn’t win. We should totally do something as a team. But there was just one thing. “I’m not sure Mirabelle would go for it, especially after what she did at the dance.”
Kara’s voice got stern and firm. “If she’s awful to you, you can always talk to your coach. Mirabelle has got to be stopped. Maybe she shouldn’t be co-captain anymore.”
I shuddered. I had stood up to Mirabelle once, but thinking of telling her she shouldn’t be captain anymore sent a chill up my spine. Speaking to Kara, however, gave me courage. “You’re right,” I said. “I’ll talk to Coach if Mirabelle won’t help. But I’m not sure if Coach will listen. Even though she used to be serious about soccer in college, she treats us like we’re kindergartners. We don’t get a chance to improve and work on our skills.”
“That’s so weird to me,” said Kara. It was nice to get an outsider’s perspective. It made me realize just how odd it actually was, having such a coddling coach. “Maybe if you told her how you felt?”
“I’ll tackle Mirabelle first,” I said. “Not literally, but maybe if she won’t listen to reason, I’ll have to resort to it!”
Kara laughed. “You can do it, Devin,” she said encouragingly.
My best friend was right. The Kangaroos needed to bond as a team. And Mirabelle’s laughing at us at the dance hadn’t helped at all. She’d crossed the line.
I was ready to have it out with her and bring the team together.
All day Monday I kept practicing what I would say to Mirabelle that afternoon at practice.
Resolved, I headed into the locker room after school to change, ready to face Mirabelle. I was surprised at how empty and quiet it was, even though bags were strewn around and locker doors were halfway open. Then I noticed there was a commotion coming from the bathroom.
“What’s going on?” I called out, heading to the back.
Opening the door, I found the whole team crowded inside. They stepped aside so I could see. There, on the mirror, scrawled in lipstick was a message for us. BYE, LOSERS! it said, with a big flourishing M at the bottom.
There was only one person who could possibly have done this.
“Mirabelle? She quit?” I couldn’t believe it. I had been all ready to have it out with her, and she’d left the team?
“Not even,” Emma said. “She transferred.”
“What?” I asked, surprised.
From behind me Coach Flores said, “To Pinewood.”
The faces of the girls around me dropped in shock.
“That is just perfect,” Frida blurted out, laughing to herself. “Pinewood! I don’t even know what to call that. Irony? Poetic justice? A made-for-TV movie?”
Coach Flores grabbed some paper towels and started to furiously wipe Mirabelle’s message off the mirror. It was the first time any of us had seen her angry. “Don’t let this message discourage you. You girls are not losers. No way! It doesn’t matter if we win or lose our games,” she said as she continued to scrub. Leave it to Mirabelle to use a long-lasting lipstick. “I’m sure Mirabelle had her personal reasons for leaving. They probably didn’t have anything to do with our team.”
“Did she tell you that?” I asked.
“Well, I didn’t
talk to her directly,” Coach admitted. “I received an e-mail from her dad.”
“Did it say anything about how Mirabelle was transferring to go to a better team?” I wondered.
“No, nothing like that.” Coach Flores stopped scrubbing at the mirror and turned around to face us. “Her dad just thanked me for being her coach and said that Mirabelle had been accepted to Pinewood on scholarship. Pinewood’s a very good school. It’s got excellent academic and athletic programs.”
Jessi and I exchanged knowing glances.
“Aha!” I said. “So that’s why she was so concerned about doing her best at the Pinewood game. She was up for a scholarship.”
“And she knew they’d be watching her,” Jessi said, and nodded in agreement.
It all made sense now. Mirabelle’s insistence on making the lineup. Her saying she “needed” to win. Well, good for her. She’d gotten what she wanted.
“And I guess that’s why she laughed at us at the dance, when the guys were calling us losers,” I said. “Because she figured she’d never have to see us again.”
“Well, we will see her again. We’re playing Pinewood again in two weeks,” Coach Flores said, frowning. “Wait—What? Who was calling you losers?”
We all exchanged worried glances. The guys on the soccer team were total jerks, but we didn’t want to rat them out.
“Nobody,” I said quickly. “It’s fine.”
Coach raised her eyebrows, but I could tell she was going to let the matter drop—at least for now.
“Look,” she said. “I can see that nobody’s in the mood to practice today. We can cancel. This is all a lot to take in. I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me or wants to talk. Don’t let this get you down, girls.” She gave us a cheerful smile before heading to her office. The other girls walked back to their lockers to pack up, leaving me, Jessi, Emma, and Zoe alone.