Win or Lose Read online

  FOR ALL U.S. WOMEN’S SOCCER FANS FOR THEIR CONTINUED SUPPORT AS WE EMBARK ON OUR JOURNEY TO BRING THE WORLD CUP HOME.

  LIVE CONFIDENTLY.

  FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Stay on your toes! You gotta be ready for the ball!” Coach Flores shouted encouragingly.

  I stood across from my friend Jessi at soccer practice at Kentville Middle School, a soccer ball in my hands. I tossed the ball to her. Jessi stopped it with her upper thigh, bounced it down to her foot, and kicked it back at me. We were doing a volley exercise, passing the ball back and forth using different parts of our body.

  “Keep it coming, Devin!” Jessi called out as she danced around on her feet, waiting for the ball.

  I threw the ball again, and this time Jessi ducked into it, her braids flapping in the wind as she hit the ball back to me with her head.

  “Now, that’s using your head!” my other friend Emma called to us, laughing at her own silly joke.

  “Boo!” I heard Grace, the eighth-grade captain of the Kentville Kangaroos (otherwise known as the Kicks), call out. “That’s the oldest soccer joke in the book!”

  “Not the oldest,” Emma said with a gleam in her eyes. “Why did Cinderella get kicked off the soccer team?”

  Groans broke out over the entire soccer field before all the Kicks replied together:

  “Because she ran away from the ball!”

  “Now, that,” Emma said, smiling triumphantly, “is the oldest soccer joke around!”

  Everyone started cracking up, even Coach, who chuckled as she glanced at her wristwatch. “We might as well call it quits. I haven’t had a chance to check out today’s paper, and I’d like to do that while you are all still here. The article about the Kicks was supposed to run today!”

  Everyone began buzzing excitedly as Coach went to her office to get the newspaper.

  “Do you think my photo is in it? I hope they got my good side!” said my friend Frida. (She wanted to be an actress someday, so she was always worried about her good side.)

  “I have to text my mom and make sure she picks up a paper,” Zoe added.

  I grinned at my friends. When I’d first joined the Kicks at the start of the school year, the team hadn’t been doing so well. But now we were headed to the play-offs, and a reporter and a photographer from the Kentville Chronicle had showed up at a practice the week before. The reporter had asked us a bunch of questions, and then the photographer had clicked away as we’d played a scrimmage.

  “We’re in luck! Coach Valentine left a bunch of copies on my desk,” said Coach Flores. She gave one to Frida before she moved down the field, handing out newspapers randomly to the other Kicks as she went. Jessi, Emma, and Zoe huddled around Frida, and I joined them.

  “It’s in the sports section, section C,” Coach called.

  Frida eagerly leafed through the newspaper, dropping pages onto the field until she found the article.

  “Ta-da!” she cried, pointing to the team photo of the Kicks plastered across the page. “Maybe a big casting director will see me in this photo and just have to have me in her next project!” She got a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Um, hello?” Jessi said impatiently as she picked up the newspaper pages Frida had scattered all over the field. She straightened up and waved the pages in front of Frida’s face. “We want to read the article!”

  “Yeah!” Emma cried. “This is so exciting!”

  I looked over Frida’s shoulder and saw my teammates’ smiling faces looking back at me from the newspaper. We all wore the blue-and-white Kentville uniforms, which we had worn especially for the photographer that day. I saw myself grinning, wearing—of course—my pink headband.

  “Kentville Kangaroos ‘Kick’ Their Way to the Play-Offs . . .” Frida began to read the article as Emma clapped her hands excitedly.

  “It’s been more than twenty years since the Kentville Kangaroos earned their nickname, ‘the Kicks.’ Coach Maria Luisa Flores should know,” Frida continued reading aloud. “She was a member of the middle school soccer team when the Kangaroos were two-time state champs in 1991 and 1992. It was during this time that the team got their nickname for the arsenal of kicks they used against their opponents. The name ‘the Kicks’ might have stuck, but the team’s winning streak didn’t. The Kicks haven’t seen a play-off season since 1996. Even when Flores came back to her hometown to coach for Kentville a couple of years ago, the team continued to struggle, finishing 10–1 last season. ‘I was focused on fun and making it a positive experience for the girls,’ Flores said about her early years as the Kangaroos’ girls’ coach. ‘But the girls made it very clear to me that they wanted to have fun while being serious competitors at the same time.’ ”

  “Losing all the time was so not fun!” Emma interrupted, and everyone nodded their agreement. Even though it had been only a few months ago, it seemed more like a lifetime ago when our practices had been basically chaotic messes.

  I shuddered. “Do you remember how disorganized everything was?”

  “What about the Panthers game when I scored in our own goal?” Emma asked. “You can’t get any more disorganized than that!”

  Coach’s emphasis on fun and fair above all else hadn’t worked out too well. When she’d combined it with solid coaching skills, the Kicks had finally started improving.

  Frida continued reading: “Flores’s new coaching attitude, and some fresh blood, turned the team around. A talented group of seventh graders, including Connecticut transplant Devin Burke, the seventh-grade co-captain, are widely regarded as having jump-started the team this season.”

  “Devin Burke! I know her!” Jessi yelled, jumping up and down. “Will you sign an autograph for me?”

  I blushed. “Cut it out,” I said, swatting her hands away as she tried to hug me, acting like a crazed fan. I felt totally weird that the newspaper was singling me out. We were a team! Before I could say anything else, Frida kept on reading:

  “ ‘I don’t know where my team would be without me,’ Burke said at practice. The team is gearing up for their first play-off match against the Newton Tigers this Saturday.”

  Frida’s voice trailed off as the quote sank in. She stopped reading and looked at me, her mouth open. Jessi, Emma, and Zoe all stared at me too, with surprised—and hurt—looks in their eyes.

  “Wow, Devin,” Jessi said slowly. The joking smile from a moment ago left her face.

  I don’t know where my team would be without me. The sentence echoed in my head, over and over. It sounded so stuck-up.

  “I never said that!” I cried, feeling like I was on trial, with their angry eyes staring at me. I thought back to the day when the reporter, Cassidy Vale, had visited our team. She had seemed really interested in talking to me, especially after finding out I was not only new to the team but new to Kentville Middle School.

  “And you were made co-captain?” she had asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes,” I’d said, nodding, but I hadn’t told her that part of the reason was that nobody else in the seventh grade had wanted to be a co-captain at the time. The team’s disorganization, plus the fact that mean Mirabelle had been the eighth-grade captain, had made the job less than desirable.

  But I knew I’d made sure to tell her how much being on the Kicks meant to me. She must have gotten my words mixed up.

  “I swear! I told the reporter, ‘I don’t know where I would be without my team’ not ‘I don’t know where my team would be without me.’ You’ve got to believe me!” I felt like I had swallowed a rock and that it was slowly turning around and around in my stomach.

  Emma gave me a sympathetic smile. “What was in the newspaper, it really doesn’t sound like something you would say, Devin.”

&nbs
p; “Never!” I said. “I remember telling the reporter that ‘I don’t know where I would be without my team,’ because I really don’t! I was so scared on the first day of school. Meeting you guys and joining the Kicks was the best thing that could have happened. If I hadn’t, I’d probably still be hiding out in the bathroom during lunch!” I gave a little hiccup as I choked back tears.

  “Hey, Devin, relax,” Jessi said slowly as she put her arm around me. “It just took us by surprise, that’s all. And the reason it was so shocking is because we would never expect you to say something like that, never!”

  “They misquoted you!” Frida said. “It happens to actors all the time. It’s part of being in the public eye.”

  “All I want to do is play soccer, not be in the public eye and get all misquoted and stuff!” I felt miserable.

  Zoe gave me a hug. “I believe you, Devin. Don’t worry about it. Anyone who knows you would know you’d never say anything like that.”

  I was taller than Zoe, so as I hugged her back, I looked over her short strawberry-blond hair at Jessi, Emma, and Frida. They were all smiling at me.

  “Group hug!” Jessi called. Zoe and I each opened an arm, and everyone came pouring in.

  “Thanks, guys,” I said, hugging them tight. “I don’t know where I would be without my friends, and you can quote me on that!”

  After we all untangled from our group hug, Jessi smiled up at me. “Let’s focus on the positive, which is that the Kicks have made it to play-offs!”

  “Yes!” I pumped a fist in the air. “And we all worked together as a team to make that happen.”

  Zoe looked up. “My dad’s here. Time to go!”

  I followed her gaze to the parking lot next to the field. It was filling up with cars, as practice was supposed to be done by now. I spotted my family’s white minivan. Maisie, my little sister, called it the Marshmallow.

  We walked over to the benches to grab our stuff, and as we did, I noticed the other Kicks still huddled around newspapers in groups. For a second I’d forgotten that the entire team was reading the article. What were they thinking about me?

  We walked by Grace, the eighth-grade co-captain. She was talking with Anjali, Maya, and Giselle, all eighth graders. They looked up at us as we passed, giving me a dirty look. I stopped in my tracks.

  “Look, guys, about the article,” I began.

  “Yeah, about the article,” Anjali said. “Thanks for being on our team, Devin. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Maya and Giselle giggled, but Grace just looked at me intently.

  “That was a pretty rude thing to say,” she said quietly.

  “I didn’t say it! I swear!” I felt like I was back at square one. I explained what I had really said and how I’d been misquoted.

  “Okay, Devin,” Grace said. But I could tell she didn’t believe me.

  “Are we cool?” I asked.

  She nodded curtly but didn’t say anything. Uh-oh. I didn’t think we were cool at all. More like ice cold, actually.

  As I went to catch up with my friends, I saw Alandra, Taylor, and Zarine join Grace and her friends. They were all eighth graders too. Anjali started whispering loudly, nodding in my direction from time to time. I heard the other girls whispering back to her as they shot looks at me.

  I felt my shoulders slump as I walked to the parking lot. My best friends believed me, but it was pretty obvious my other teammates didn’t.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mom noticed my face as soon as I climbed into the seat next to her.

  “Devin, what’s wrong?” she asked.

  I put a copy of the newspaper on her lap. “Remember that reporter who came last week? Well, she misquoted me, and now everyone’s mad at me.” I explained to her about what it said in the article.

  Mom frowned. “That’s terrible, Devin. As soon as we get home, we’ll contact the newspaper and ask for a correction.”

  “But you are the best on the team,” my little sister Maisie piped up from the backseat.

  I sighed. “Thanks, Maisie. But that’s not really true. We’ve got a lot of strong players. The whole point is that we won because we’re a strong team. That’s what I was trying to say.”

  “I’m sure your teammates will understand it, once they’ve had time to think about it,” Mom said, but I wasn’t so sure.

  When we got to the house, Mom turned on the laptop that was in our kitchen, and we looked up the newspaper. It was too late to call, but there was a link to e-mail Cassidy Vale.

  “Do you want me to write this?” Mom asked, but I shook my head.

  “No, I got this,” I told her. I sat down at the table and started to type. I’d been thinking of what I wanted to say during the whole ride home.

  Dear Ms. Vale,

  Please make a correction to the article you wrote about the Kentville Kangaroos. I never said, “I don’t know where my team would be without me.” I said, “I don’t know where I would be without my team.” My teammates are upset, so please make the correction.

  Thanks,

  Devin Burke

  I felt relieved when I hit send. Problem solved, right? Feeling better, I clicked on my MyBook page. Taylor had made a post right at the top of my page:

  You’re not here, Devin, so I don’t know where I am! :-p

  I felt that rock in my stomach again. I thought about typing something in response, but I just deleted Taylor’s post instead. Then I sent her a private message.

  Taylor, you have to believe me! I never said that. I e-mailed the reporter, and the paper is going to run a correction.

  I sent the message, and then I checked to see if Taylor was online. She was, and I figured she’d respond right away, but she didn’t. Then I noticed that some of my seventh-grade soccer friends were online: Brianna, Sarah, and Anna. I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to them after practice, and I wanted to know if they were mad too. So I started a chat.

  Wanted to say I’m sorry about that newspaper article. I would never say anything like that. The reporter got it wrong. I hope you’re not mad.

  A reply from Brianna popped up quickly: That didn’t sound like you.

  Then Sarah joined in: Not mad!

  Then Anna: Not mad ethr. But 8th graders are talking.

  Thanks, I replied. I know.

  “Devin, can you please shut down the laptop and set the table?” Mom asked.

  “Sure,” I said. I didn’t have the heart to stay online anyway. I had a feeling that things might get worse.

  The next day was gloomy and rainy, which was not something I was used to seeing in Southern California. It was almost always sunny. But at least the weather matched my mood.

  “I wonder if we’ll have practice today,” I said as I pushed around my salad with my fork. Usually I ate lunch outside with my friends in the library courtyard, but because of the rain we were sitting inside the noisy cafeteria instead.

  “I doubt it,” Jessi said. She was busy pulling the crust off the tuna sandwich her mom had packed for her.

  I usually hated having to miss a practice, but today I felt almost relieved. I knew a bunch of the eighth graders were still mad about yesterday’s newspaper article.

  I let out a big sigh. Emma noticed. “What’s wrong, Devin?” she asked as she looked up from her orange-and-pink bento box. It was a lunch box with little compartments inside to keep the food separate.

  “It’s the eighth graders,” I began, and then I explained about what Taylor had written on my wall.

  Jessi’s jaw dropped. “Rude!”

  “I took it down right away,” I said. “And I private messaged her, trying again to explain what really happened. But she wouldn’t answer me. I don’t get it. My seventh-grade friends believe me. I don’t know why the eighth graders won’t!” I pushed my salad away and plunked my head down onto the table, miserable.

  “They’ll get over it,” Jessi said confidently. “Don’t worry.”

  “I hope you’re righ
t,” I mumbled, my forehead still resting on the table.

  “Just give them a couple of days,” Emma said. “It will blow over.”

  Emma was right. I just needed to be patient. Everything would go back to normal. After all, we were a team. I lifted my head up and began to eat some of the crispy chicken salad I had gotten from the cafeteria, feeling a little bit better. I’d been so distracted this morning that I’d forgotten my lunch.

  “I, for one, will be glad if practice gets canceled,” Zoe said as she took out a huge binder from her book bag. Bits of colored papers and ribbons were hanging out of it.

  “Whoa!” Jessi cried. “That binder looks like it ate all of my notebooks for breakfast!”

  Frida had been busy writing in her own notebook, doing some last-minute homework. Her eyes grew wide as she hugged her notebook to her, pretending to be scared of Zoe’s binder. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you,” she whispered to her notebook, and we all cracked up.

  “It’s my party planning book,” Zoe said defensively. “Remember? For my bat mitzvah? I’ve got lots to do, so if we don’t have practice today, I’ll use the extra time to finalize some of my plans.”

  For a second we all had blank looks on our faces.

  “Don’t tell me you forgot!” Zoe shrieked. “We’re all supposed to go look for dresses tomorrow!”

  Jessi and I exchanged glances. With all the excitement of making play-offs, and then the newspaper article yesterday, I had completely forgotten all about dress shopping with Zoe. I could tell from the grimace on Jessi’s face that she hadn’t remembered either.

  “Of course we didn’t forget, Zoe.” Emma shot us a warning glance as she said this. “It’s just been hectic with play-offs and everything.”

  Zoe sighed. “Tell me about it. I never would have guessed in a million years at the start of the season that the Kicks would be in the play-offs. I thought I’d have plenty of time to plan the party. It has to be perfect, just like all of my sisters’ bat mitzvahs were.”

  Zoe was the youngest of four sisters. You could totally tell they were related, because they looked so much alike. They were all petite with the same strawberry-blond hair, and all of them, Zoe included, dressed like they’d just stepped out of a magazine. Today Zoe was wearing a pink-and-white striped top under a floral print blazer. Since Zoe put such care and attention into what she wore every day, I wasn’t surprised that she’d put that same effort into planning her party.