Field of Schemes (23 page)

“Okay parents, it looks like Gunther’s going to be late
again
, so I need to take the reins here,” Mimi said.
Again? Wasn’t this our first game? Ten bucks says she told him the wrong time.
The girls and parents gathered around Mimi, who told us how “very proud” she was of
her
girls. “Girl power is all about supporting each other in our quest for excellence,” she said.
Quest for excellence?
“I want everyone to remember our first tournament together, so I bought all the girls a little token of my deep admiration.” Mimi began handing the girls small velvet pouches and waited expectantly as they opened them. “You know you’re not allowed to wear jewelry on the field, so I need you to ask your parents to hold these.”

One by one, out they came: silver necklaces with a “Girl Power” charm hanging in the center. Rachel’s lips tightened and she looked at me unhappily. I shook my head, as if to tell her it was just a case of bad timing. “She didn’t do it on purpose,” I said as our group started walking toward the field.

“Duh, yeah she did,” Kelly answered back.

“Do not talk that way to Claire!” Darcy scolded her daughter. “I am sure Mimi didn’t mean to upstage Claire and Rachel. She didn’t even know they were making necklaces for the team.”

“Yeah she did,” Kelly said. “Rachel told her about them when we were at her house doing homework. She totally stole the idea!” Kelly Greer’s facial expressions were so much like her father’s, I couldn’t help simultaneously loathe and adore them. Ron walked and listened intently, his emerald green eyes translucent in the morning sunlight. I loved his unshaven weekend look with the ultra soft thick grey cotton t-shirt hanging loosely over his broad chest. And the way those jeans fit on his—pimply ass, focus on the pus-filled zits on his ass and the yellow helmet toenails capping his smelly feet! “She knew once she gave us necklaces, Rachel wouldn’t be able to.”

Darcy and I shot each other a look as if to say,
Let’s toast this bitch later.

“Says who?” I said in a maternal tone. “Who says the girls can’t get two gifts this weekend?”

“Two necklaces?!”

“Rachel, I’m sure she had planned her gift long before you told her about yours.”

Kelly snapped, “Then why didn’t she say something when Rachel mentioned it?!” I looked at Darcy’s daughter and realized that this was going to be my child’s guide into a new age. “Seriously, do you guys really believe that Mimi didn’t do this to be mean? I can’t believe you people are the ones in charge of teaching us about how the world works.” I sighed and looked at my future. It was a four-foot-eleven-inch freckle-faced kid with braces on her teeth. One who knew she was right and didn’t second-guess it.

Darcy joined in. “I think what Claire is trying to say, girls, is that we should give Mimi the benefit of the doubt.”

Part of me liked Darcy’s parent-approved script, but another part wanted to give Kelly credit for seeing through Mimi’s façade of girl power. I wondered what would happen if I replied, “You know, Kelly, you’re right. Mimi is a bitch for what she did. Good for you for sniffing it out. That’ll serve you well in life.”

I almost said it when Darcy piped in with, “Mimi does a lot for you girls. Let’s assume her intentions were good.”

I started moving slower, weighed down by the sadness that comes from lying. This twelve-year-old cynic was right about Mimi, yet her mother and I basically told her not to trust her instincts. After a few minutes of silence, I inhaled deeply and said, “Maybe Kelly’s right.” Darcy, Ron, Kelly, and Rachel all looked at me in disbelief. (Ronnie couldn’t have cared less what I was talking about.) “Yeah, if you say Mimi gave the girls gifts to upstage Rachel, maybe you’re right. Maybe this was her pathetic way of asserting her dominance.” I almost added the politically correct spin that she must feel insecure about her place in the world and blah blah blah, but I didn’t have the energy. Part of it was that I didn’t want to spew half-baked psycho-babble this early in the morning. The other part was pure pettiness. I didn’t mind taking this bitch down a few notches in Rachel’s and Kelly’s esteem.

“Damned right I’m right,” Kelly said. “I will say this, though. She makes awesome snacks when we’re there for homework. These Girl Power bars are like baked in heaven or something.”

“Well, that’s positive!” Darcy said.

Wait just a second here! What happened?
If I listed every one of Mimi’s redeemable traits, I would have gotten nothing but sarcasm from Kelly. These damn kids were just plain contrary!

When we arrived at the field, Mimi hurried the girls into a circle where they passed the ball among themselves. Mimi wore a Nike headband and her official Kix manager’s shirt, though I’m sure it killed her to wear the loose-fitting design. Everything I’d seen her in to date looked like it had been applied with a paint brush. She looked at her watch and scanned the field, pursing her lips and shaking her head.
She probably gave poor Gunther directions to another part of the state.

A group of us unfolded our chairs and placed them behind the sideline where another bunch of parents were watching their boys play. Dick cracked open a can of beer wrapped in a red foam jacket, then reached into his cooler and distributed drinks to Crazy Raymond, Loud Bobby and Gangsta Leo. I understood that Leo shaved his head to keep him cooler in this smoldering heat, but couldn’t understand why he chose summer as his time to grow a devil beard. Bobby was sunburned to the point where he looked like an angry tomato with all of his skin pulling toward the center of his face at his pug nose. Crazy Raymond’s summer look was that of an ancient torture device. Rather than having cornrows sitting neatly against his head, his hair was twisted into dozens of short spikes. If we were friends, I might joke about playing a game of ring toss with his new do, but I dared not offend him any further than I unwittingly had already.

A ruler-straight line of girls dressed in Manchester green uniforms ran in perfect synchronicity to an area right beside the field. My God, these girls had better timing than the Rockettes. A coach with a thick English accent (though I’m not sure he was actually English) commanded the girls to “stop, drop, and give us ten.” Our girls stood agape as the Manchester team loudly counted their perfectly timed push-ups. A little showy, I thought.

“What the heck is this?” I asked Darcy, who was nonchalantly looking in her bag.

“Pre-game head games,” she answered. “Did you bring extra sunscreen?”

Handing her my sunblock, I asked her what she meant. “You know, the psychological warfare and intimidation that goes on before the games.”

“Is this normal?” I asked.

“Claire, get used to it. Nothing’s normal in competitive soccer.”

I gulped at the sight of Ron’s arms flexing as he planted an umbrella into the grass. “Don’t do that now! We’re gonna have to move it in ten minutes when the boys’ game is over,” Darcy said to Ron.

“So, I’ll move it. What do you care?” he shot.

The Manchester team was now running around the periphery of the field in lock step. It was amazingly machine-like. “If these girls are this in tune with each other during warm-ups, what must they be like on the field?” I wondered.

“It’s all showmanship, Claire,” Ron told me. “Doesn’t make any difference in how they play. They probably suck if this is what they spend their time working on.”

Then an unfamiliar male voice added, “If they could balance the balls on their noses, that’d be different. Those are the really good teams.” Darcy, Ron and a few others turned around and gave a collective greeting.

“Hey buddy,” Ron said, grabbing hands and slapping backs. “Long time no see. How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” the man said. He had an open, kind face that was handsome and humble with chiseled features and a neat patch of brown hair combed to the side. He looked at me and smiled.

“Hey, Dave, do you know Claire?” Ron asked. “Claire’s our new halfback’s mother.”
Ah yes, just how every woman wants to be described.
“Dave is Katie’s father.”

Dave smiled as we shook hands and I sensed a glimmer of attraction between us, though I immediately reminded myself that if he was Katie’s father, he was either Jessica’s or straight Jennifer’s husband. I put on my most professional voice and asked if his daughter was Katie the halfback, fullback or forward, impressed with my new vocabulary. “Katie Engle,” he said. The fullback. Ah ha, so he was Jessica’s husband. “Mind if I sit with you guys?” he asked, directing the question toward Ron.

“Jessica’s over there,” I told him, pointing to her, then shouting her name and waving.

She smiled and walked over to us. “Hey Dave,” Jessica said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “How’s it going?”

How’s it going? Ahhhh, they were an amicably divorced couple. Jackpot!

A silver-haired guy followed suit and came over to say hello. “Hi Dave.”

“Hey Sam. You’re looking well,” Dave said.

So civilized.

Jessica asked what time Dave planned to return Katie on Monday, because she and Sam had a party to go to. As they hammered out the details, I turned to watch the boys’ team wrap up their game and grinned. Darcy caught me and smiled back. Thankfully, she had the good sense not to say anything until later.

“There you are!” Mimi said to Gunther as he ambled onto the field, looking lost. “Nice of you to show up.”

“We will talk about this after game,” Gunther said, annoyed. I wondered if she told him to go to the wrong field or gave him the wrong kickoff time. Perhaps Mimi was infinitely more creative. I laughed at the vision of our coach handcuffed to the hotel bed headboard being whipped by a dominatrix that Mimi had hired.

“We’ll have to,” she snapped, looking at her watch.

When the referee’s whistle sounded for the girls’ game, it was like the start of a horse race. Everyone leaned forward and several of the parents began rooting for their daughters. “Come on, Savannah, work the channel,
sivious,
work that channel,” Leo said as a quiet woman with long black hair and humongous hoop earrings sat beside him. Every parent had a suggestion for the players.

“Look left!” one would shout.

“Find feet,” said another.

“You’ve got time.”

“Space!”

“One move and go!”

“Turn and burn.”

“See Kelly, see Kelly right.”

Then in the loudest voice I’d ever heard—louder than Bobby’s even—Crazy Raymond started shouting, “No mercy!” Repeatedly. It was a hoarse, drawn-out command that sounded like a general leading his troops into battle. Spit flew from his lips and he cried, “Nooooo mer-saaaaay!”

Gunther turned to Mimi and said, “I need them quiet!”

“You need to coach this game, Gunther!” she snapped. He was a rather hands-off coach, but he may have just been inhibited by all of the parental noise.

“I have train them in practicing. They know what to do at game. The shouting is no good,” Gunther said.

Dave looked at me and raised his brows. “Whaddya think? Gunther one, Mimi zero?”

“I’d say she’s less than zero,” I said, smiling.

“Ah, an Elvis Costello fan?” Dave replied.

“More like a fan of anyone arguing with Mimi.”

“I see Mimi’s still picking on the pretty moms,” Dave said.

Two points for you, Dave!

I smiled. “She’s really got it out for me.”

“I can see why,” he said. Dave shook his nonexistent long hair and pouted his lips. “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”

“Will you stop?!” I said, more than a little embarrassed.

I leaned my elbows onto my knees and continued watching the game as the girls skillfully passed the ball. Every pass made it to the player it was intended for. Girls looked around and planned their next move, accounting for the others on the field, moving the ball as if it were an extension of their own body. It looked like connect-the-dots rather than a swarm of bees buzzing around a hive.
So this is what soccer is supposed to look like.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Dave asked. Darcy was smirking, trying to act as if she didn’t notice the flirtation. Ron looked less amused.

“Very,” I said. I liked the context of this interaction because I could keep my eyes fixed on the game, Rachel in particular. She looked okay, but not her usual stellar self. It was almost as though she didn’t know how to act when she had an entire team of competent players with her—and opposing her. Several times she should have passed the ball to an open teammate, but tried to make a move and go around a defender. These fullbacks were not falling on their butts. They snatched the ball away from her and regained possession.

“Pass the ball, Rachel!” Dick shouted, annoyed at her mistake. “That kid’s a ball hog, man,” he muttered to Crazy Raymond.

“Cracker’s girl?” he asked. Dick nodded. Distracted by Katie’s interception, he shouted, “That’s right, girl. Work the channel.”

Then the Italian started. Paulo shouted a series of instructions to Giovanna, who held the most intense expression on her face, her tongue clinging to the bottom corner of her lip. She dribbled with the ball until she passed the midline of the field, made a move that faked out the Manchester player, then released the ball before another player tried to strip her of it. Violet ran down the right channel of the field, then passed it to Kelly. My heart raced. Kelly looked as if she was going to shoot the ball, then quickly passed it to Violet who was now directly in front of the net. “Nooooo mer-saaaaay!” shouted Raymond as his daughter released a shot that went straight into the goalie’s arms.