Playing With the Boys (17 page)

“That sounds amazing,” Lucy said. “I’ll definitely be there.”

 
By midday, as Lucy walked down the hall in her jersey, she couldn’t believe how many people had stopped to talk to her.

“Good luck,” some guy called out as he walked past her.

“Kick butt out there,” a girl cheered as she was leaving the bathroom. It was as if having this jersey on made her part of something and made her belong. She imagined how it would be on Monday if she played well. Instead of walking tentatively through the corridors of Beachwood, she’d be strutting confidently with her head held high. She’d walk by Ryan and Devon and Cope, and they’d swarm her as if they’d been waiting for her, rushing to tell her how awesome she was Friday night.

Senior girls would walk by, noticing that she was surrounded by every hot football player in school. They’d come over to see what the commotion was, and when they realized Lucy was at the center of it, they’d invite her to the next big party they were having.

Ryan would say, “Not so fast,” implying that she might not be free next Friday. Then he’d ask her out. In front of everyone. And she’d say yes, of course. Then he’d swoop her up into his arms and spin her around, like Benji had done on the football field, and she’d be so close to him that she’d be able to smell his cologne or deodorant or whatever it was about him that smelled so good.

Or . . . she would blow it. Blow the kickoff, blow the field goal, blow the game. And everything would stay pretty much like it was. No one except Benji would talk to her. Maybe Ryan would give her the time of day—like if she actually asked what time it was. Or maybe not. Maybe after tonight, no one would want to have anything to do with her.

As the day continued, the pressure mounted. Kids kept wishing Lucy well. Even Morbid resisted growling at her in gym class. And Martie made a special announcement in English, reminding everyone to come to the game tonight. In a rare move, she was even letting the soccer team finish practice half an hour early so they’d have time to shower, eat dinner, and get to the game.

Late, Lucy flung open the school doors, heading toward the parking lot. Coach Offredi had told them to meet there at three o’clock sharp. It was five minutes after.

Suddenly, Tank yelled, from a bus window,“On the bus, people! Let’s go to the Sizzler!” But “Sizzler” came out more like “Sizzle-HER.” Lucy reasoned that Tank must have been dropped on his head as a baby even more than she had.

Within minutes, the entire team was piled onto two different school buses to make their way to West L.A. to hit Sizzler for their pregame meal. Lucy looked around for a seat on the bus. Benji was sitting by himself. He was about to wave Lucy over when Ryan looked up and noticed her.

“Here, Malone. I have room,” he offered. Lucy slid onto the bench next to Ryan. She was still mad at him for being part of the prank on her, but she couldn’t help but notice as she sat that their legs were only inches apart. She thought she could smell Orbitz gum on his breath. Her heart raced despite her effort to control it. The loud bus engine roared as it started up, and with a lurch they headed out of the parking lot.

“So, this is a tradition,” Ryan explained. “Pregame meal. It’s basic carbo-loading at its worst.” Lucy gave a polite, obligatory smile. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“Come on, Lucy,” Ryan cajoled. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in. “Look, you were right. We’re total jerks,” he admitted. “I was there last night. I was part of that stuff. I mean, there’s all the locker room teasing we always do—you know, guy stuff. . . .”

“Guy stuff?” Lucy asked skeptically.

Ryan tried to explain.“You know, we stick athletic tape to the really hairy guys. . . .Tank pees in peoples’ shampoo bottles. . . . People turn off the lights while everyone’s in the shower and you’re grappling around and inevitably someone ends up in the middle of the room, covered in baby powder, usually Cope—”

Lucy interrupted him. “Just ’cause you do something all the time doesn’t make it right, ya know?”

Ryan did. “No, I know. Think of it like we were treating you like one of the guys.”

“Funny,” she commented, amazed at how bold she was being. “You treat me like one of the guys when you’re taping me to the goalpost, but not during actual practice.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he continued. “You got it much harder than anyone. And you didn’t deserve it. I don’t have a problem with you being on the team—”

“But the other guys do,” Lucy said dryly. She looked around. A few guys in the back were trying to give a sophomore an ultimate wedgie.

“They’re idiots,” Ryan insisted. “Listen, I think what you’re doing is cool. I have a little sister—she’s in seventh—and I was telling her that you were on the team. She thought it was the coolest thing. She’s always been into football because of me, and last night at dinner, she was saying maybe when she was in high school, she’d try out.”

Lucy smiled. That made her feel good.

“Besides,” Ryan admitted, leaning in, “I like to win. And you’re the best kicker we’ve got, so I don’t care if you’re a guy, a girl, a moose, whatever. . . .”

Lucy gave him a funny look. “A moose?”

“Okay.” He smiled. “I’d care if you were a moose. Look how close we’re sitting. People would talk. Mooses would talk. . . .”

“Is it mooses?” Lucy asked thoughtfully.

“Maybe it’s meese,” Ryan considered. “Like goose and geese?”

They both laughed as the bus turned into the Sizzler parking lot. Ryan gestured for her to lean in, as if he had a secret to tell her.

“A piece of advice: Eat the breadsticks,” he instructed. “That’s the key to winning the game. At least five breadsticks.”

Lucy smiled. “I’ll take your word for it.”The team piled off the bus and into the restaurant, taking over as if they owned the place. She tried to find Benji, but he’d already made his way to the opposite end of a long table. Some of the guys grabbed booths. Ryan sat down in a seat.

“Here,” he said, indicating a chair for her. It was sweet. He was suddenly looking out for her.

But just as she sat down, someone kicked the chair out from under her. She slammed down on the floor. Tank, Adam, and Nick nearly snarfed their Cokes laughing.

As Lucy pushed herself onto the chair, red-faced and humiliated, Ryan looked ready to pummel all three of them. He rammed the table so that it banged into them, spilling their Cokes.

“Hey!” Adam yelled. “Watch it!”

“Why don’t you guys pick on someone your own size?” Ryan seethed.

“Tank can’t,” Nick pointed out. “No one’s his size.” Everyone laughed, except Lucy, who stared at her water, mortified.

The waiter set down breadsticks, interrupting the awkward moment. Ryan slowly counted five out and placed them on her plate.

“For tonight,” he reminded her. “You’ll need it.”

eleven

There were forty-five minutes until game time when Lucy barreled into the girls’ locker room to get dressed. She hadn’t wanted to disappoint Ryan, but eating five breadsticks was completely out of the question. She’d placed three of them in her napkin and slid them into her purse. Now, she threw them into the trash as she rounded the corner to the last row of lockers. She stopped suddenly.

Her locker, the third one from the end, was covered with streamers and balloons and cutouts of little tiny footballs.

“Surprise!” a bunch of voices screamed in unison. The soccer girls poured out of the athletic office. Pickle was holding a big banner that read: IF SOMEONE TELLS YOU YOU KICK LIKE A GIRL, SAY, “THANKS!”

Lucy gasped in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it. Charlie, Carla, Jamie, Erica, Heather, Karen, Ruthie, Max—they were all here to cheer her on.

Max threw her arms around Lucy’s neck. “Go for it out there,” she said.

Pickle patted her on the back. “Just pretend the ball is CW’s face.” Pickle and Lucy had taken to referring to Coach Offredi and his handlebar mustache in code.
CW
stood for “Coach Walrus.”

The girls cheered as Lucy pulled on her knee-length white pants and secured her pads before pulling on her jersey. Charlie handed Lucy her helmet.

“Here,” Charlie said. “Do it up.” It was the same thing the soccer girls often said before practice.

“And afterwards, we’re taking you out to celebrate.” Pickle smiled.

Focused, Lucy grabbed her helmet and placed it on her head, snapping the straps together beneath her chin. She felt powerful and invincible, as if nothing could stop her, as if she was ready for battle! On her way out of the locker room, all the soccer girls hit her on the helmet, psyching her up.

“You got this, Luce!” they cheered. “Go show them what you can do!”

She crossed the hall and tentatively pushed her way into the boys’ locker room. Coach Walrus—er, Offredi—had instructed her to come in as soon as she was ready. He was already mid-speech. Lucy lingered in the doorway, but Benji sweetly grabbed her hand and pulled her in.

“Come on,” he said. “It’s okay.” Lucy stepped in and listened raptly to Coach Offredi.

“I want everyone to do their job out there tonight. Play as a team. Be the hitters, not the ones who get hit. You walk onto that field tonight, you represent Beachwood. And what happens on the field stays on the field. Now let’s do this!”Whoops and cheers went up from the group. The team roared and in a mass exodus trotted to the door, each hitting, tapping, or smacking the school crest for luck on his way out. Lucy had to jump to reach, but her fingertips managed to graze it. She was fired up and ready for this game.

“Let’s go!” Coach Offredi yelled. “Tonight, we’re one unit, one team!”

“One unit!” the guys chanted back. “One team!” Then, running as a pack toward the field together, they burst through a huge WILDCATS paper banner the cheerleaders were holding.

Lucy kept her head down, staying tight on Benji’s heels as she jogged onto the field. She’d be too overwhelmed if she looked up. She just hoped one thing: that tonight, for once, she had luck on her side.

 
“Ryan Conner,” the announcer said over the sound system. Ryan jogged out from the sidelines and took his place on the field. The cheerleaders went wild. The Beachwood part of the crowd erupted. As the senior star quarterback, he was clearly a sentimental fan favorite.

“Benji Mason,” the announcer blared. Benji jogged out.

The announcer continued all the way down the Beachwood roster until . . .

“And making her football debut . . . newcomer Lucy Malone!” he yelled. The crowd clapped politely, but in the stands, people whispered, “Did he say
Lucy
? A girl? On the boys’ team?”

Lucy jogged out confidently.
That’s right! A girl on the boys’ team!
The soccer girls and Martie cheered wildly.

“Go Lucy!” Pickle screamed.

“Girls rule!” Max yelled.

“Let’s go, chickie,” Carla called out.

“Do it up, Luce,” Martie shouted, clapping her hands.

From the sidelines, Regan excitedly waved her pom-poms. “Yay, Lucy!” she screamed.

Lucy kept her gaze forward, slowly jogging to the end of the growing line of Beachwood players. As she ran past them, she felt as if everything was in slow motion, as if she were in a dream. Ryan reached out and, in a gesture of camaraderie, grabbed her face mask and butted helmets with her in front of everyone. Lucy felt as though she were soaring; she was floating on cloud nine . . . and ten . . . and eleven!

“Oh, say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light . . .”

“The Star-Spangled Banner” was warbled out by an a cappella quartet. Standing on the field with her right hand over her heart, Lucy could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“O’er the land of the free . . . and the home of the brave.”

That’s what she was tonight. Free and brave. Tonight for the first time, a girl was going to play football under these lights. She might have looked slight and slender, like she was a fragile doll that could easily break, but she wasn’t. If this week hadn’t broken her, nothing would. She was fired up. She was ready.

“Bring it in tight,” Coach Offredi called out. “All right. You’ve worked hard.You’ve practiced.You’ve conditioned. You’re ready. Fly around out there. Hit people and have fun.” The guys slapped each other’s shoulder pads and helmets, their adrenaline pumping. No one except Benji tapped Lucy to psych her up. She appreciated it.