Hat Trick Read online

  “Hey, guys?” I said loudly but with a little hesitation. After all, this was a tough group. Unsmiling faces turned toward me, and I felt butterflies doing a cha-cha in my stomach, but I kept going.

  “What if we say the name of our favorite soccer player before we pass the ball to one another?” I suggested. I got blank stares, but luckily I had filled Jessi in on my plan in the car. As I kept moving, holding the ball, I nodded at Jessi.

  “Mia Hamm!” I said as I tossed the ball to her.

  Jessi caught it and searched the faces in the group before her eyes settled on Mirabelle. She threw her the ball, saying “Abby Wambach” as it flew through the air.

  Mirabelle caught it as she jogged. I held my breath, wondering if she would help us out.

  “Alex Morgan,” Mirabelle said before tossing the ball to the girl on her right. Unfortunately, that girl was Jamie!

  “I can tell you who my least favorite soccer player is,” Jamie said, smirking as she caught the ball. “It’s Devin.”

  A few of the girls snickered, but mostly everyone was silent.

  “And you think you’re so great, Jamie?” Jessi asked angrily.

  Uh-oh. This had not turned out how I had hoped.

  Jamie just laughed, which made Jessi even madder. But Coach Darby, who had been on the other end of the field, blew her whistle and called us over.

  Jessi glared as Jamie ran past her. Jamie was eager, as always, to be the first one to reach the coach.

  I jogged next to Jessi. “Don’t,” I said. “She is sooooo not worth it.” I didn’t want Jessi to get into trouble by getting into an argument with Jamie. But it made me feel good that my friend had my back.

  Jessi let out a big exhale. “I know, but she makes me so mad sometimes that I can’t even think straight!”

  As we lined up in front of Coach Darby, I was feeling pretty disappointed. I really had hoped my idea would break some of the tension on the team. At least Mirabelle had tried to help.

  After we did some extra stretching, Coach Darby had us count off for a scrimmage. Jessi and I were on the same team this time (we had finally figured out not to stand next to each other!), and Jamie was on the opposite side.

  We were once again nine on nine. “Sasha and Jessi, play forward,” Coach said as she assigned positions. I was one of the four defenders. I tried not to overthink why Coach hadn’t put me in as a striker. After all, it was only a practice scrimmage. But it did make me feel a little less confident.

  Mirabelle and Jamie were both strikers on the opposing team. Mirabelle was good, consistently breaking free and dribbling her way through our defense. She scored the first goal.

  Two defenders doubled up on Mirabelle, leaving me with Jamie. I stuck to her like glue.

  “Move it!” Jamie hissed at me under her breath, frustrated that no one would pass her the ball because I was in the way. But I held my ground.

  Tracey, playing midfield, shot a long, controlled pass to Jessi, who zipped past a defender and sent the ball sailing over the goalie’s head.

  “Nice pass! Nice goal!” I shouted out to them. Jessi grinned at me and gave me a thumbs-up.

  I heard Jamie groan next to me. I’ll admit it—that made me smile.

  As Jamie raced around the field, trying to lose me, I kept up with her, enjoying every second of it. It was almost like part of me knew which way she was going to turn before she even moved. A couple of times I was there before she was! I didn’t have much experience playing defense, but I was enjoying it. Although I’d always want to be a forward, it was nice to know I could do well in another position. Maybe trying to get the best of Jamie had something to do with how well I was playing.

  After Mirabelle scored one more time, Jamie was practically foaming at the mouth to get a chance at the ball. She darted right, and I did too. If she took a step left, I was there.

  “Devin, get away from me!” Jamie growled before suddenly whirling toward me, her arms outstretched. She shoved me with all her strength right in my chest, and I went down hard and landed flat on my back.

  “Oof,” I said as I looked up at the blue sky. The breath had been knocked from me and I couldn’t move. I heard Coach’s whistle blow and saw Jessi leaning over me, peering at me with concern.

  “Devin, are you okay?” she asked.

  I nodded as I tried filling my lungs with air. Yep, they still worked. “I’m okay. Just got the wind knocked out of me,” I said as Jessi gave me a hand up.

  As I stood, I saw Coach Darby talking to Jamie.

  “Jamie, that was too much,” Coach Darby said. “Dial it back a little, okay?”

  Wow. It was good to know that some things were too much, even for Coach Darby. I heard Jamie muttering softly in reply. I couldn’t make out what she was saying or what Coach Darby said in return before Coach came over to me, a concerned look on her face.

  “Are you okay, Devin?” she asked.

  “I’m fine,” I said, putting on a face like I didn’t care that Jamie had just been a total jerk. I tried to play it cool.

  “Good.” She nodded curtly. “Your dad told me you were having some issues with the rough play. But you were doing a great job out there, Devin. Sometimes things can get a little rough. Don’t let it get to you.”

  So Dad had talked to Coach. That was a surprise. And I was in for another surprise too.

  As I nodded and turned to go, Coach stopped me. “Jamie has something to say to you,” she said.

  Jamie walked over stiffly, not looking me in the eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking at the ground.

  Coach blew her whistle. “Time to cool down!” she yelled as she strode into the middle of the field.

  As soon as Coach left, Jamie glared at me.

  “What’s it like being a tattletale, Devin?” she asked before stomping away.

  Once again I didn’t answer her. No matter what I said, it would never matter to Jamie!

  “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to Coach Darby?” I asked Dad as soon as we sat down to dinner that night.

  Dad and Mom looked at each other.

  “I meant to, Devin, but we’ve all been so busy,” Dad said. “I guess it came up at practice?”

  I nodded. “Jessi’s mom talked to her too, and Coach brought it up in front of everybody. And Jamie called me a tattletale.”

  “Well, I’m sorry about that,” Dad said. “But I’m curious. I talked to Coach Darby because I was concerned that you girls were playing too roughly and she wasn’t stopping it. So how did she handle that today?”

  I pushed my fork around on my plate, arranging the chicken-fried brown rice into a little mountain. “Well, she had us do some drills to prevent injury. And when Jamie pushed me during the scrimmage, Coach called her out.”

  Mom’s eyes widened. “She pushed you?”

  “She’s the worst,” I said.

  Dad frowned. “Well, I’m glad to hear that Coach Darby took action. I wish that she had talked to you girls about unsportsmanlike conduct, though.”

  I shrugged.

  “At least you had soccer practice,” Maisie complained loudly, pieces of rice flying out of her mouth. “Some ­people don’t get to play soccer at all. And some people have sisters who don’t practice with them like they promised. And some people—”

  “Maisie!” My dad cut her off. “May I remind you that some people should not speak with food in their mouth? Actually, that goes for all people. Especially the ones who live in this house.”

  Maisie put a hand over her mouth. “Oops. I forgot,” she said from under it. Then she started chewing furiously, before swallowing superloudly. She took her hand away before launching into her tirade again.

  “I don’t get it. At least Devin has soccer. And she said she was going to help me, and she didn’t do anything!” Maisie whined.

  I fel
t a stab of guilt. I had promised to help my little sister, but I had been so busy with the winter league that I hadn’t had a chance to figure out what to do yet. But Maisie didn’t have to be such a brat about it. And I had bought her that cute puppy soccer key chain with my own money to try to cheer her up. Had she forgotten all about that? So instead of feeling guilty, I got angry.

  “Maybe because it would be a big waste of my time,” I said in a really nasty voice. I couldn’t help myself. I was feeling so angry and annoyed. “It’s not like you’re a real soccer player or anything. You haven’t even played before.”

  Maisie’s big eyes filled with tears. “Mom!” she cried.

  I saw my parents look at each other and shake their heads before my dad turned to me. “Devin, you are clearly not interested in eating,” he said, gesturing at my plate of uneaten food. “Please clear your plate and go up to your room. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  I pushed back in my chair loudly, grabbed my plate, and stomped over to the kitchen with it. I was acting mad, but truthfully, I was feeling embarrassed over losing my temper with Maisie like that. I sprinted up the stairs and slammed the door to drown out the sound of Maisie complaining about me to my mom.

  I jumped onto the bed and landed on my stomach, burrowing my face into my pillow. So what if Maisie couldn’t play soccer? I was playing in the toughest league of my life, and it was a lot harder than I had anticipated. Not only did I have to deal with unfriendly teammates, but my own best friends seemed to be going in different directions. Frida wasn’t even in school anymore! And while dealing with all of that, I was supposed to help my little sister too? I was feeling good and sorry for myself, so sorry that I had forgotten I had been the one who’d wanted to help Maisie. I could hear my family downstairs, my mom talking in a low voice to my sister as my dad cleared the table.

  I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I hoped it wasn’t Maisie. I wasn’t ready to apologize to her yet, and I knew that was what my parents would expect me to do. There was a light knock on the door before it opened. My dad stuck his head in.

  “Want to kick the soccer ball around?” he asked.

  I unstuck my head from my pillow. “Okay,” I said, still a little sulky.

  “Meet you in the backyard,” my dad said cheerfully, as if I hadn’t just yelled at Maisie and stormed off from the dinner table.

  I got off the bed and laced up my sneakers, already feeling a little bit better. It was always fun to play soccer with my dad.

  He was in the backyard, tapping the ball around when I got there. He had never played on a team, but he was a big soccer fan who sometimes played soccer on weekends with his friends. He passed the ball to me, and I tapped it back to him at an angle. He started running, and together we jogged the length of the backyard, tapping the ball back and forth to each other. I started to relax as I focused on this easy soccer drill.

  “So,” my dad said as we moved, “anything else you want to talk about?”

  I had the ball, and I started to tap it back and forth as fast as I could between my feet, moving as quickly as possible until I started to tire myself out. I flipped the ball up and started tapping it up repeatedly on the instep of my right foot.

  “Well,” I said slowly as I watched the ball bounce. It was funny how sometimes I didn’t feel like talking at all, and then all of a sudden the words would come pouring out, like a waterfall. That was what was about to happen.

  “The winter league is really hard, the girls are really competitive, and you know I didn’t even get to play at all that one game,” I said as I let the ball roll off my foot. I planted my foot on top of it and put my hands on my hips as I continued. “There’s no teamwork. Plus, Zoe isn’t on our team and Emma and Frida aren’t in the league at all. I feel like I might be losing some of my friends. So I was feeling pretty bummed about all that when Maisie started in about her soccer team.” I thought about that. “Or, rather, about her not having a soccer team. She’s right. I did say I would help her. There is just too much going on!”

  My dad nodded sympathetically. “The straw that broke the camel’s back, huh?”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “So if I’ve got this straight, you’ve got three things you’re struggling with right now,” Dad said. He began a recap. “One, the new league is very competitive and your teammates are not that friendly. Is that right?” he asked me. I thought of Jamie. “Not friendly” was putting it mildly, but sure, I’d go with that. I nodded. “Second, not all of your friends are on your team, and some of them aren’t playing soccer at all right now. You’re worried how this might affect your friendships.” Again I nodded. “And, last, you wanted to help your sister find a way to play soccer because her program was canceled, but you haven’t had the time. Does that sum it all up?”

  “Yep,” I said sadly.

  Dad walked over and put his arm around me. “Those are three big problems, Devin. No wonder you are feeling stressed out. Remember, it always helps to talk about how you’re feeling. Now, that’s something you can learn from your sister,” he said with a chuckle.

  I laughed. “We all know exactly how Maisie is feeling every second of the day,” I said.

  “As far as the winter league goes, hang in there,” Dad said. “Let me know if the roughness issue continues. And remember, it’s only for a little while, and you’ll be back playing with the Kicks again soon.”

  That was exactly what Steven had said! I needed to remember that.

  “You know, it hasn’t been all bad,” I admitted to Dad, thinking about some of the things I had learned. “I am learning to play more aggressively, but I also ended up with my first yellow card ever!” I shuddered, still embarrassed by the thought.

  “It’s good to be assertive on the soccer field. That’s the kind of aggression you want to channel, not the kind that gets you yellow cards,” Dad said. “So stick with it, and I bet you’ll keep learning and growing as a soccer player. At the end of the day, all you can do is keep playing your best,” he continued. “You can’t control the other girls on the team or the coach. Just keep being the best Devin you can be. Which, in my opinion, is always pretty awesome.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “As for your friends, make sure you keep communication open with them,” he suggested. “Talk directly to them about how you’re feeling, and be honest. It’s the best way to avoid drama. Trust me. At my ripe old age, I know.” He laughed.

  “As for Maisie, I think it’s nice that you want to help your little sister.” Dad smiled warmly at me. “But don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Do what you can, when you can. She’ll be happy if you take her out to kick the soccer ball around every once in a while. Saving a school’s entire soccer program is a tall order, Devin.”

  Then he looked at me and shook his head. “Although, you did save the Kangaroos and turn that team around. If anyone could save the elementary school soccer program, it would be you.”

  I felt better already. Suddenly my problems didn’t seem that big and bad anymore.

  “You know,” Dad said thoughtfully as he kicked the ball out from under my foot before he started moving with it, “if you could conquer all three of these problems, it would be a real hat trick!”

  A hat trick was when a player scored three goals in one game. A flawless hat trick was when a player scored three goals in a row in the same game.

  I felt my confidence soaring, all thanks to my dad.

  He kicked the ball toward me high, setting me up for a header. As I jumped into the air to meet it, I yelled out, “I’m gonna go for flawless!”

  When I woke up the next day, I grabbed my phone right away to check for my morning text from Kara. When I’d lived in Connecticut, Kara and I had always picked out our outfits together. Since I’d moved, and with the three-hour time difference, we couldn’t do that anymore, but instead, every morning K
ara sent me a selfie of what she was wearing. After I got dressed, I did the same.

  It might snow today! Kara had texted along with her photo. She wore a striped purple sweater hoodie, jeans, and a pair of silver fur-lined boots with cute little pom-poms hanging off the back. A headband with a sparkly snowflake on it pulled her long brown hair away from her face.

  I felt a pang of jealousy. Although I loved the warm, sunny Southern California weather, I used to always look forward to the first snow of the year, even if it was just a dusting. When the whole world was covered in white, everything looked so pretty.

  But then I thought of the cold. And wet shoes and gloves. And no soccer. So I cheered up as I slipped on my flip-flops. No way could Kara wear these in New England right now!

  I posed in front of my floor-length mirror, making a funny face as I snapped a pic to send to Kara. I wore a pink baseball tee with the number thirteen on it. Mom had found it for me, and since thirteen was my jersey number on the Kicks, she’d known I would love it. My long brown hair was usually stick-straight, but today it hung in beachy waves around my shoulders. After I’d taken a shower the night before, I’d put my wet hair in braids. When I’d taken the braids out this morning, my hair had had a nice wave. Not as fabulous as Frida’s curls, but I liked it.

  After I texted Kara, I sent a text to Jessi, Zoe, and Emma, asking them all to meet me in the courtyard at lunch. Talking with my dad last night had put me in a really good mood. A hat trick! I could do it. And I was going to start with an easy goal, one that I knew my friends would assist me on.

  So I was all smiles as I waited in the courtyard behind the library building, at the table we always sat at whenever we ate outside. Zoe was the first one to sit down. She gave her usual shy smile as she looked at me from under her side-swept bangs.

  “Hey, Devin,” she said as she slid her cafeteria tray onto the table in front of her. She had a slice of pizza, a bottle of water, and an apple.

  “Hi, Zoe!” I said cheerfully as I dug out my own lunch bag. I wondered what Mom had in store for me today. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw turkey on pita bread with hummus. That was one of my favorite sandwiches, and I took it as a good omen that things were going to go my way.