by Coco Simon
Chapter Ten Everything’s Going Wrong
That afternoon Sophia and I decided to go along with Dad to Molly and Riley’s soccer game for support.
“Do me a favor,” I said to Molly. “Look out for Riley, because she’s really nervous.”
“Well, that’s normal. I still get nervous before games,” said Molly.
I was surprised. “You do?”
“Sure,” said Molly. “What if I make a stupid play in front of everyone?”
“That’s what she’s worried about!” I said.
Sophia and I sat on the bleachers with Dad and cheered on the team. They were really good, especially Riley. She was running up and down the field super fast.
“It’s like watching lightning!” Dad said.
The team won, and I was really happy watching Riley jump up and down at the end of the game. Sophia and I ran down for hugs.
“See, no Ralphing Riley!” I said.
“Thank goodness!” said Riley. “Molly really helped me out. She’s a good teammate.”
I smiled and reminded myself to thank Molly for that later.
“You can make it up to me by watching me sit on the bench during our hockey game!” I suggested.
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Just because you don’t start doesn’t mean you won’t play!” she said.
“Oh, I hope I don’t play!” I laughed. “I don’t need that stress!”
But the next day it was me on the field for another scrimmage game, and I looked up to see Dad and Molly in the stands with Riley. I felt embarrassed because they really were watching me just sit there.
The game was a tough one, and I was cheering on Sophia, who was defending against a really aggressive player from the other team. I flinched a few times, but she hung in there.
The sun was sinking and it was getting a little chilly, especially since I was only warming the bench and not myself.
There were only a few minutes left in the game when Coach Wickstead blew her whistle for a time-out. “Okay, the front line is tired. Time to start subbing in, girls.”
I wasn’t really paying attention, which was probably why I missed that she called my name.
“Are you sure?” I asked, as she motioned to me.
“You’re up, Kelsey,” she said. “Let’s see what you can do.”
I felt sick to my stomach.
Sophia was playing next to me, and she jogged over.“Okay, Kelsey. You can do this. Play like we’re not playing a game. Play like we’re just out here on the field, having a good time. Ignore everything else.”
I nodded. I remembered what Dad told me. A colander in your brain means that you hear the good stuff and the positive stuff and you drain out all the bad stuff.
Colander, I thought. Use a colander.
The ball dropped and off we went. I took Sophia’s advice and decided to just pretend we were practicing. I used Dad’s advice and blocked out the other girls.
I’m actually holding my own, I thought.
I vaguely heard Dad yelling, “Go, Kelsey, go!” and Riley yelling, “You got it, Kelsey!” but I just tried to shut everything out.
In the huddle, Amanda said, “You’re doing great, Kelsey. I’m going to pass to Sophia, and she’ll pass to Tracey, who’ll pass the ball back to me, and then I’ll pass to you. I need you to be close to the crease to get the ball in. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
It felt like the whole play was in slow motion. Amanda set the play up as she said. She passed to Sophia, who passed to Tracey, who was running fast up the field. Amanda ran into place and passed the ball to me.
It was a clear shot and I was concentrating on not missing. I pivoted and thwack, hit the ball. I watched it arc and hit the post… and bounce out.
I stood there for a second, stunned. It was a shot I had made a million times before.
In the second I paused, the other team scooped up the ball and trampled down toward their goal. I heard them yelling in victory as I stood there, alone, near our goalkeeper.
I had just lost the game.
I felt like I couldn’t move. I saw Dad stand up and look at me, while Molly covered her eyes with her hands.
It was Sophia who came jogging back up the field and put her arm around me.
“Great shot!” she said. “It was a great shot and you got it up the field.”
We walked back to the bench, my head hanging low. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“Good game, girls,” Coach Wickstead was saying. “Nice hustle out there and great teamwork. Good to see you on the field, Kelsey. Next time we’re going to have you play longer.”
Longer? Was she crazy? How would that help?
Everyone gathered their things, and I took my backpack and walked toward Dad.
“Great game!” he said cheerily, and I gave him a sour look.
“You can’t make every shot you take!” said Molly encouragingly. “You looked good out there!”
Riley gave me a hug and whispered, “You did good and you didn’t throw up!”
“Can we just go home?” I asked.
On the way home I got a text from Michelle.
Hey u! Sorry I missed the game today. How was field hockey?
I sighed. I really wasn’t in the mood to rehash the game right now. I texted back,
It was OK, TTYL.
At home we had a quick dinner and we all settled in for homework. I don’t know how Jenna plays music while she does homework; I need total quiet.
I was startled when there was a knock at my door. Mom poked her head in.
“I had an idea,” she said. “This conference I’m speaking at happens to be during fall break, so you have that Friday off school. What if I take you and Lindsay to St. Louis with me, and we can make it a little fun weekend trip?”
Suddenly I was furious. I didn’t know if it was the tough week or I was more sore about the game than I’d thought, but I just sputtered, “Lindsay?”
“Yessss,” said Mom slowly, walking into my room. “I thought it would be nice to include her. She might like a special trip out of town.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Mom, you know who else would like a special trip out of town? With her mother? Just with her mother? Because her sisters each got a turn going by themselves and didn’t have to share a parent?” I was kind of yelling.
“You don’t think it would be nice to include Lindsay?” asked Mom, raising her voice just a little.
“It probably would!” I was actually yelling now. “But I don’t want to! This is my trip. You are my mother. And it’s my turn!”
“Okay, let’s take a breath here,” said Dad, who came into the room.
“I don’t want to take a breath!” I said. “I’m so sick of tiptoeing around Lindsay! I’m sorry she’s had a tough time. But my mother is here and I shouldn’t have to give up my trip with my mother just because my mother isn’t dead!”
Mom drew in her breath sharply. “Kelsey Jane Lakes!” she yelled.
From the other room, I heard Molly say to Jenna, “I can’t believe she just said that.”
For some reason that made me even madder. I felt like my two sisters were teaming up against me! Mom and Dad were also looking at me like they didn’t know who I was or what to say to me.
“Time-out here,” said Dad. “Kelsey, I don’t think you meant what just came out. I know you didn’t. But we’re all a little worked up here, so let’s take a breath and calm down before we say anything else we might regret.”
Mom and Dad shut the door behind them.
I threw myself down on my bed. I don’t know why I was so moody and so angry lately. It was just that so much was happening and so much was changing, and nobody seemed to understand what I was feeling. I didn’t even know what I was feeling half the time.
All I wanted to do was make everything go back to the way it was.
I opened up my notebook and tried to do some math homework, but it was hard to concentrate. After a while I jus
t pushed the book away and stretched out on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Then I got up and put my pajamas on. I wanted to go to bed early and forget this horrible day ever happened.
About an hour later Dad knocked on my door. “How about some cookies and milk?” he asked.
I nodded and followed him down to the kitchen. I saw the light was on in Mom’s office, so I guessed she was working on her presentation.
Dad had made chocolate chip cookies, which were my favorite. They were still warm from the oven, and I washed the first few bites down with some cold milk. I was still annoyed, but the warm cookies were helping.
“Doesn’t get any better than that, does it?” Dad said, grinning.
I swallowed and waited. I was sure I was going to get a speech or something.
“We can see that things are a little topsy-turvy this year,” said Dad. “You have a lot going on.”
I waited.
“Your friends are all trying new things, like different sports or student council.”
I guessed Molly had told them about Hannah and Olivia.
“And I get that getting into the groove at work is difficult as well. And we expect a lot of you between school and holding down a job, when not many of your other friends work.”
I nodded.
“If school and Donut Dreams are too much, we can dial back the number of days you work,” said Dad. “Maybe two days is just too much right now.”
I shrugged.
“Now as for your cousin Lindsay,” he said.
I stared down at my lap. I knew I wasn’t being kind about Lindsay.
“I know you and Lindsay are close,” Dad said. “And I know you care about her. You really looked out for her when her mom first passed away a couple years ago. And I know that can sometimes feel like a burden.”
“It’s not a burden,” I said.
“No, it is,” said Dad. “It’s still a burden even if you’re happy to do it. It means that you’re shouldering caring for someone else, and doing that takes up a lot of energy.”
“I’m different,” I blurted out.
Dad was about to say something, then stopped. “Different how?”
“I’m not competitive. I like living in this small town. I don’t want to go away to college. I don’t want to run for student council. And I don’t want to share Mom with anyone more than Jenna and Molly, because sharing her with them is already too much. And I don’t know why everyone wants me to be the class representative.”
Whoa. That all just came out.
“Okay,” said Dad, and I could see that this was maybe more than he thought he’d get into. He rubbed his head.
“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with not being competitive. And you’re right, your personality is way different from your sisters’, and that’s okay. As for not moving away, well, your mother and I grew up here, so no arguments on that front.” He thought for a second.
“And about sharing Mom, well, we know that’s a lot to ask. You’re right about that. You, Jenna, and Molly all need your mother. And she tries really hard to make sure you all get what you need from her. But right now Lindsay needs her too. You may not think that’s fair, but sometimes what’s needed outweighs fair. Yes, the family is worried about Lindsay, and about Sky. But I can tell you that after your performance the past week, we’re all pretty worried about you, too.”
Good, I thought.
“You’ve always been the happy-go-lucky one,” Dad said. “But this past week you’ve been sad and moody, sometimes for no reason. Or at least no reason that’s obvious to the rest of us.”
He paused as if he was waiting for me to say something. But I didn’t feel like discussing the bad mood I’d been in all week.
“So is Lindsay coming to St. Louis?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Dad. “Mom and I need to talk about it.”
“Okay,” I said. “Can I go back upstairs now?”
Dad gave a big sigh, like he was relieved. “Sure. Actually, that’s a good idea. Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep and talk about it when we’re fresh tomorrow?”
As I went back upstairs, I passed Mom’s office. I heard her clicking away at her keyboard and I stopped for a second, hoping she would open the door, but she didn’t.
I felt guilty about yelling at her and guilty that I had a mother I fought with.
I went up the stairs and saw Jenna’s door was open. Jenna and I have always been super close. Mom and Dad loved to tell me the story of when they brought me home from the hospital and Jenna yelled, “MY baby! MY Kelsey!” and told everybody I was her baby, and she would try to hold me and feed me any chance she could get.
Jenna was in bed with her laptop, doing homework, and I crawled in next to her. When I was really little, I would scoot across the hall and get into bed with Jenna when I was scared.
Tonight, Jenna didn’t even blink. She pulled up the covers around me without saying a word and I snuggled in. I could smell her shampoo on her pillow, which always reminded me of roses.
If I closed my eyes, maybe the week would be over faster, and we could all just start again.
Chapter Eleven A Good Talk
Luckily, the rest of the week was kind of quiet. Mom and Dad didn’t mention St. Louis, and I knew well enough not to bring it up.
On Thursday, I had another hockey game, and I was a little nervous about being thrown in. After some really nice fall weather it had been warm again, and the late afternoon sun felt like it was burning me as I sat on the hot metal bleacher.
I noticed that Dad had shown up at my game again. He never waved at me or anything, but I saw him sitting there with his hands crossed over his long legs. Most of the parents were on their phones or chatting, but he was always sitting off a little bit, just watching.
It was nice to know that even for that short period of time, I had his full attention.
Sure enough, Coach Wickstead blew her whistle and called, “Kelsey, let’s go. You’re in!”
I took a deep breath, smiled at the thumbs-up from Sophia, who was coming off the field for a break, and ran to my spot.
I took my cues from Amanda and Tracey, and I ran down the field with the ball. I passed to Tracey, who broke free and scored. We all cheered, and I was happy as I ran off the field.
Somehow when I jumped up to play I’d lost my water bottle, and I had to go search for it under the bench. When I came back, Dad had made his way down the stands and was talking to Coach Wickstead.
Coach had gone to school with my uncle Mike and had known Dad for a long time too. They were talking about the game when I came trotting up.
“Nice playing today, Kelsey,” Coach said.
“Thank you,” I said. “I think those six minutes were really important!” Then I laughed.
“Hey, six minutes can win or lose a game,” said Coach. “Every player adds something.”
I tried hard not to laugh again, because I didn’t think I was anywhere close to being an anchor for the team.
“You know why I love watching her play?” Coach asked Dad.
“Because she’s good!” Dad said, and I could tell from his voice that he really meant it.
“Well, yes, she is,” said Coach. She looked at me. “I love watching you play because I can tell you love it. I love watching a player smile as she races across the grass with her hair flying out and the wind behind her. It does my coach and my player heart good.”
I was surprised.
“We have a lot of talent on the team,” Coach continued, “and each player really brings something unique. Some bring skill, some bring a competitive spirit, some are just workhorses. But you, Kelsey, you are rare.” She tilted her head at me. “You remind everyone on that field that this is fun, that this can be exhilarating. Any good team needs that.”
Dad was smiling really widely. “I always tell her that it’s not about winning or losing,” he said.
“It isn’t!” said Coach. “It’s a
bout the joy of the game. And you definitely show us how that works.”
I looked at her to see if she was buttering me up or something. I mean, it sounded like something Dad or Mom would say to me to make me feel better, but a coach?
“Kelsey, you remind me of me when I used to play for fun,” said Coach. “I know you don’t love competing, but I think if we can get you more comfortable, then you can play longer and longer and the competition of the game won’t faze you. By next year I’ll have you playing full halves. And you’ll still be loving the game. That’s my goal for you.”
“Well,” I said. “I guess I can work on that.”
“We can work on your skills,” said Coach. “But I don’t want you to work the fun out of your game. I want you to enjoy it. I want you relaxed. I want you to always have a blast. Does that make sense?”
I nodded. It did. “But isn’t it also about winning the game?”
Coach laughed. “Well, if we were selling tickets in a big stadium and I had to win all the time, maybe I’d feel differently. But I’m more interested in showing a great team how wonderful this sport can be.”
Dad reached over and put his arm around me.
“You’re doing right by this one, Chris,” Coach Wickstead said.
“Don’t I know it!” Dad said. “Now we have to do right by her history teacher by getting her homework done!”
We waved to Coach as we headed off the field.
Dad and I were quiet, walking to the car, and we drove in silence. But before we got back through town, Dad pulled into the Frosty Freeze parking lot.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He looked a little guilty. “You had a good game. It’s just a little celebration that’s not a donut!”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said, and shot out of the car.
We walked up to the window and I ordered a King Frosty, which was a big milkshake with tons of ice cream, whipped cream, and butterscotch syrup.
“If I eat this whole thing, I’m probably not going to do too well on dinner,” I said.
“Well, it’s Mom’s turn to make dinner tonight,” said Dad. “So…”