I looked over at Larry the coach who was nodding to himself. I guess he approved.
Kevin glared at Danny, but what could he do. That’s how it’s done and he couldn’t back down. “Sure,” he said. “And Phooey-”
“Zoe,” I corrected him.
“Whatever. You’ll do all five kicks for us. That okay with you, Larry?”
Larry crossed his arms. “It’s up to you, Zoe.”
I think at that moment Larry knew the team was so mad at him for saddling them with a girl that he wouldn’t lift a finger to help me. Since I knew there weren’t going to be any magic fairies showing up to magically fix this one for me, I was on my own. But Larry was right. I needed to take matters in my own hands. I had to prove myself, to me and to the others. And I would. Yes, I would. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I was scared, all right. I kept hearing his voice in my head: “Get lost. Get lost …”
But it was too late. Joey made his first penalty shot and scored. Then Kevin was about to put the ball down for me, but I couldn’t let him do that, so I rushed over, grabbed the ball from his hands, and put it down myself. I could hear the others murmur, and my legs wobbled. I tried to concentrate. I moved into position in a curved line so that it would look like I was going to use my right foot to pound the ball into the left corner. But I planned to switch legs at the last moment and take a shot with the outside of my left foot into the right corner. That was the plan. But the moment I got ready for the shot, the ground seemed to shake and I hesitated for a nanosecond too long and the next thing I knew I didn’t catch the ball at the right angle and it hammered against the post.
My second penalty shot missed the goal by a mile. As usual, Diego scored, and it was two-zero against us. Against me, was more like it, because I don’t think there was anyone on my side.
Or so I thought.
Danny prepared his ball and for some weird reason his face was red. He wouldn’t look at me. He was so distracted when he charged and kicked the ball that, like me, he thundered it way over the goal.
“What was that!?” Kevin was shocked, but Danny just shrugged as he passed his teammate and Kevin grabbed him. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you actually like her? Are you crushing on her?” Danny responded instantly with a shot to Kevin’s stomach that doubled him over.
“Don’t ever say that again,” Danny spat. “I missed on purpose. Gotta keep the suspense going, right?”
Kevin’s pained face managed a smile when he realized what Danny was saying. “Keep the suspense going. Good idea. Did you hear that, Kyle?” he called out to the goalie. “Let one in! Or else the girl doesn’t stand a chance.”
“No problem,” Kyle responded. “But she’s gotta be able to hit the ball.”
The Wild Soccer Bunch roared with laughter and my nerves tightened like a rubber band. “Get lost get lost get lost!” The echo in my head of Kevin’s meanness got louder and louder and I had to fight back the tears. No way was I going to cry. I wasn’t going to do them any favors.
I took a deep breath and charged and the ball went straight at the goalie. Kyle could have caught it easily, but instead, jumped out of the way in horror, like it was a cannonball coming straight at him. Did I mention Kyle was a lousy actor?
“Hey! What did I say? Two-one! Did you see that? I bet that was the penalty kick of the century.” The Wild Soccer Bunch pretended to cheer for me, and I cursed them silently for doing this to me. It was humiliating and I secretly wiped a tear from my face.
Then Julian Fort Knox missed the next penalty kick and it was obvious what he was doing, especially when he had to hold his stomach he was laughing so hard. I, on the other hand, delivered such a good shot that this time Kyle “the invincible” – yes, this is really what he called himself – Kyle didn’t have to help me score. Kevin wasn’t impressed. He ran to Alex, the man with the hardest kick in the world, and whispered in his ear. Alex smiled his famously silent grin and mixed it with a dash of hostility. Then he charged, took a shot and, as if it was pulled by a magnet, the ball hurled against the post.
The Wild Soccer Bunch cheered and fell on the ground, laughing. Alex was too good a shot for that to have been an accident. He did it on purpose and that destroyed my last bit of confidence. How could I think I could play with a bunch of boys who could hit the crossbar on purpose? I wanted to run, but before I had a chance to take off, Kevin shoved a soccer ball in my face.
“So, who’s afraid now?” His eyes fixed on me while mine welled up with tears.
“It’s all up to you!” Kevin continued, obviously enjoying his power. “Maybe you need a tissue to wipe your eyes first?”
Fail! That hurt. I closed my eyes. Pull yourself together! I pleaded with myself, gearing up for one last pep talk. I am Zoe the fearless. It is what mom always called me. What are you waiting for? Let’s do this. I opened my eyes, grabbed the ball from Kevin’s hands, and placed it on the penalty spot. But as I walked backwards, the ground underneath me seemed to soften.
As I charged, the ground felt like it was trying to trip me. And then the fake cheering from the Wild Soccer Bunch finished the job. When I was about to kick the ball with my right foot, everything, absolutely everything – the ground, the cheers, my entire life – crashed in on me. I couldn’t focus. I lost my balance, missed the ball, and fell flat on my back.
Time stood still.
I was spread-eagled on my back in the dirt and I didn’t want to move. I wanted to sink into the center of the earth and disappear forever. I could feel the tears coming again and I didn’t think I could stop them. Maybe they’d call me a crybaby; I didn’t care anymore. That’s what kept running through my head when suddenly Kevin appeared, towering over me. His glare was cold and full of contempt. Then he spat into the grass. You know, the way boys spit when they are pretending to be men? “So, what do you think, Phooey?”
“Zoe,” I said softly.
“Whatever,” he said. “What do you think? Did you pass the test?”
I tried to hold it together, I swear. I tried to look him right in the eye and give it right back to him. If I was a boy who thought he was a man, I would have spit in his eye. But I couldn’t. And I couldn’t hold back the flood either. And so I did the only thing I could do: I jumped to my feet and ran away.
Don’t Let the Bubble Burst
I ran through the gate and across the parking lot. My father’s car was not there because it was still too early to pick me up so I ran and ran and ran without looking back. And after a jillion wrong turns in this mean old town, I finally found the house that was masquerading as my new house. It was definitely not a home. It was back to being a creepy castle. I hated it. There wasn’t much I didn’t hate at that moment and my father was lucky I didn’t run into him first. Instead, I ran into Grandma, who had mercifully forgotten our morning disagreement and had devoted herself to more important things in life.
Clad in her knightly but quite unshining armor – a rubber apron to protect her precious pink leisure suit, a scarf on her head doubling as a helmet, and the long garden shears she brandished in her hand like a sword – she had declared war on the weeds in our backyard. She stood there on the terrace, determination in her eyes, and a stature weird enough to scare every dandelion into submission. She didn’t even have to bend down. She just looked at them and snapped her shears and they cowered in terror.
But then she saw my face and everything changed. “Oh heaven’s, dear, dear, dear, you look like you have just gone through the wringer!” Did I mention Grandma was a mind reader? “Come here and let me hug you!” She spread her angel wings and wrapped me in them. But Grandma was no angel. She looked more like an old pink duck in a rubber apron. Was it mean to call her old? I’m sorry, but it wasn’t long before I realized she had no idea what was going on with me. “You can’t straddle the fence, I told you so,” she quacked on. “Perhaps you see what I mean now. Tomorrow we’ll give this awful jersey and these awful cleats to charity.”
T
hat was just too much. I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly all I could see was pink. All around me. I felt like I was being turned into a pink Barbie doll. I couldn’t handle it. I was Zoe the fearless. I was going to be a great soccer star, so I tore away and ran straight to my room, slammed the door, and plopped down on my bed like an Indian guru and stayed that way until my father came home from work.
It was almost dark when he came into my room and sat down next to me.
“Hey. You weren’t at the field when I came by to pick you up.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “And no, I didn’t cry all the way home.”
My father smiled. “Okay. Hey. I talked to Larry. He thinks you put up a good fight.”
“Not good enough,” I pouted.
“I’m supposed to tell you that the dribble he had to whistle off was fantastic. Better than Kevin’s, and he’s the best.”
“Kevin! That loser?” I couldn’t even stand hearing his name again. A tear had stolen its way into my eyes and I wiped it off, annoyed. “I’ll never go back there again.”
My father just looked at me.
“I want to go home!” My voice quivered.
“This is your home now,” my father said.
“No. This is mom’s home, not mine,” I said, wiping my tears again. What was up with them, they just wouldn’t stop.
“It was her dream,” my father said.
I couldn’t stop the flood. I sunk into my father’s arms and started bawling. “I have dreams too, Daddy.”
“And what’s your dream? To give up?”
My heart stopped. Whose side was he on? I just wanted to go back to Somerville so I could play soccer. At least the people back there treated me like a human being. How’s that giving up? “They were so mean to me, Daddy, you couldn’t believe it.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, tiger, but let’s think about this a sec,” my father said. “If we were to go to Somerville right this minute, would you be able to forget about what happened today?”
I thought about it while I glared at him. Of course not. I’ll never forget. And that’s exactly why I wanted to go back to Somerville. I was trying to figure out what my father wanted to do. Then it hit me. He wanted to stay in Chicago, and he didn’t care about what I thought one bit. Well, I wasn’t going to let him walk all over me that easily. “Just to make this crystal clear, Father,” I said icily and sat up straight to show my determination. “If we can’t go home, then I’m never going to play soccer again!”
My father lowered his gaze. “That’s not a dream. It’s a nightmare.” He seemed really unhappy all of a sudden. “This is really sad, you know,” he said and locked eyes with me. “You’re making me decide your dreams for you. Dreams are precious. You should never give them up. I mean, if you give up your dreams, you lose yourself. Here one minute. Poof! Gone the next. Like a soap bubble. Your mother knew that. That’s why she built this home even though she knew she was dying. She knew she’d never live here, but it made her happy knowing we would. She did it for you, Zoe.”
At that moment, I had never been more confused in all the 3,285 days I had been alive. “If that’s what mom thought and what she did, then what should I do?”
“What should you do?” my father responded. “Show the Wild Soccer Bunch what’s what. Make them give you a birthday present. Challenge them to a tournament.”
“Me?! Them?! They won’t even show up!”
“They will. Guaranteed.” My father smiled. “But you’re going to have to choose your words wisely.”
My father knew just what to say. It wasn’t fair. But he was my dad after all. And that was his job. I wiped the tears from my face. “Okay. Fine,” I agreed. “But once I do this, promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Promise we’ll talk about Somerville,” I said. “Deal?”
“It’s a deal, tiger,” my father said. “That is, if you still remember where it is.”
I flashed him one of my best smiles.
Low Down and Dirty
The next day I marched through the neighborhood, eleven invitations in my pocket. I was in a great mood. I didn’t go to the soccer field, where I could have delivered all eleven letters at once, but I went to the home of each and every member of the Wild Soccer Bunch. I wanted to savor the moment. I had carefully planned the order of my visits.
Roger was first. Roger, the hero. But Roger didn’t look much like a hero when he opened the door of 1236 Oak Park Avenue. In fact, horror was written all over his face; horror, because I was actually standing on his doorstep and horror because he thought all girls were poison. I responded to his horror with a sugarcoated smile as I offered him the invitation to my birthday party.
“What do you say, Roger?” I asked with that same smile. “Do you have the guts to show up?” I shoved the letter at him.
Roger just stared at it. Then he stared at me, and slammed the door in my face. I shrugged and put the letter into his mailbox. Then I marched off.
Everything went according to plan. Paying him a visit first had been the right choice. I was sure that within the next 30 seconds he’d alert the rest of the team about what I was doing. I knew they’d be waiting for me. I felt like the guy in the game Minecraft, charging through the neighborhoods, rebuilding my dreams, and closing in on my next victim.
At 1 Woodlawn Avenue, Alex tore open the door before my finger could press the doorbell, snatched the letter from my hand, and slammed the door in my face. I caught a glimpse of him in those few seconds. He looked like a shooting star, ready to fizzle out.
Next was Kyle’s mansion. Actually, it’s his parents’ mansion, but who’s arguing. I was about to ring the bell when Kyle and his father drove up – in a fancy black limo. Kyle got out, all cool and talking on his cell. I was sure the call was about me. He didn’t even look up at me. He acted as if I wasn’t even there, and talked right through me. “Oh, Edgar,” he addressed his butler, “I’m tied up right now, would you mind taking the mail for me?”
That said, he disappeared into the house. But a second later his head popped back out and he added: “Oh, and have her leave the letter for Joey as well. He’s on his way over to get it.” I learned later that Joey and his mom lived in a nearby trailer park in a van. That’s actually kind of cool because they can go wherever they want whenever they want.
Edgar, the butler, waited in case Kyle had another instruction for him. Then he turned to me with a smile. “Oh dear, Mademoiselle. Vat did you doo wiz ze Vild Soccer Bunch?”
“Nothing,” I responded with a smile. “Yet.” Then I handed him the two letters and left, my head held high.
At 11 St. Charles Street it was Diego’s mother, Mrs. Hernandez, who opened the door. I introduced myself and politely asked if Diego was there, but suddenly he wasn’t at home anymore. Instead, a man’s voice, way too deep, answered from inside the apartment.
“Just a moment, Mom, I mean, Mrs. Hernandez, let me see if your son is in.”
Diego’s mother rolled her eyes. “Well, thank you very much for letting me know you’re not home,” she answered the deep voice. “Please tell yourself to not be such a chicken and get out here, pronto!”
We stood there, Diego’s mother and I, for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for a reply. It finally came, “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hernandez, but I just can’t seem to find myself right now.”
I burst out laughing. That was just too funny. Mrs. Hernandez was amused as well. “Well, Zoe, why don’t you give your letter to me. I’ll hold it until Diego remembers where he is.”
I nodded, bid her goodby,e and walked two blocks down to Dearborn Street, laughing all the way. Danny’s address was 44 Dearborn Street. I didn’t have to ring the bell there, either. Danny was waiting for me on his bike out front, and as soon as he saw me, he raced over, planning no doubt, to come to a screeching halt right in front of me.
“Hello, Zoe! Wait!” He shouted and tried to stop, turned too sharply and tum
bled off his bike, bounced on his butt, and finally came to a skidding stop right in front of me. I know he wasn’t faking it, you just can’t plan something like that.
“Oh, hi Danny!” I greeted him. “So nice to run into you again, or should I say you ran into me? I need your help. Do you know where Julian and Josh live? I have something for them.”
“Julian and Jo …? Wait, what?” He asked it with a hint of disappointment and I waited for his answer. “They live over there!” He pointed at the house across the street.
“Thanks!” I said and started to walk away, counting the steps in my mind. And before I reached five, Danny was right behind me: “Hey, uhh – what about me? Don’t you have one of those for me?”
“Oh, sorry!” I said. “How silly of me! Here you go!” I held up the envelope with his name written on it. “And would you also like a Band-Aid for your butt?”
Danny blushed the color of my cleats, snatched the envelope from me and instantly ran away. You’ll have to ask him why he left his bike behind. Boys are mysterious creatures.
Anyhoo, things went just as I’d planned and my desperation of the night before was a distant memory. But the moment I walked into Josh and Julian’s backyard, the memory hit me like a lightning bolt.
Tyler, Fabio, and Kevin were waiting for me, along with Josh and Julian. The five of them stood there like garden gnomes, staring dumbly at me. Kevin pointed at the trashcan next to the driveway.
“You can put your letters right in there.” His voice was harsh and mean.
“What are you waiting for?” Tyler added icily. Fabio spat, the way Kevin spat after I missed my last penalty shot, standing right above me, asking: “What do you think, Phooey? Did you pass the test?”
I didn’t know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do – I wanted to run away. Then I wanted to throw the letters into the trashcan, like Kevin said. But I couldn’t do that either. I promised my father the night before. And so I dug up whatever courage I had left, and confronted Kevin. “Throw them in the trash yourself!” I snapped and looked him straight in the eye. “It’s up to you. I don’t mind. At least I’ll know for sure – that you didn’t have the guts to do this fair and square.”
Zoe the Fearless Page 4