Shaken Up (8 page)

I managed to stay awake for the rest of the afternoon, all the way through English class. And I was so embarrassed about almost crying in front of Steven that I was sort of relieved when Steven walked Hailey to English class. I wasn't ready to face him just yet.

After school I went home to change, and then Mom drove me and Jessi to Maisie's practice at the elementary school field. She seemed really happy to do it, in fact.

“It's so nice that you want to help your little sister, Devin,” she said.

I didn't tell Mom that it hadn't been my idea to do this. And I had to admit that the reason I had agreed to was to be with all my friends, but it felt good to help out Maisie too.

“Wow, this brings back memories,” Jessi remarked after Mom dropped both of us off.

There were eighteen eight-year-old girls on the elementary school field, each one randomly dribbling a soccer ball. Zoe, Emma, and Frida were setting up orange cones on the field to make a square.

“Yeah, I remember my first soccer team,” I said. “I started a little younger than Maisie, though. I think I was five. I remember crying when it was time to leave practice. Can you believe that?”

“Yes, I can, because you sleep, eat, and breathe soccer,” Jessi replied with a grin. “I bet you learned how to dribble before you could walk.”

“Well, for a lot of these girls, it's their first team,” I said, nodding to the field. “Dad says they need a lot of help with basic skills.”

“What did I say?” Dad asked, jogging up behind us.

“Just that we need to work on basics with this team,” I said.

Dad nodded. “We do. But thanks to you and your friends, we have the right equipment to get it done. You girls should feel really proud of that.”

Dad was talking about the fact that the youth soccer program at Maisie's school had almost been cut because of a lack of funding. So my four soccer friends and I had put together a big fund-raiser to try to help out. We had raised enough money, and then some, to get the team back on its feet. (It hadn't hurt that Frida's movie-star costar, Brady McCoy, had showed up at the fund-raiser too.) We'd raised enough money to buy all the equipment the girls
needed. Dad and some other parents had volunteered to coach the teams, and the program had been saved.

“We do feel proud,” I said, smiling.

Dad glanced over at the field. The cones squared off an area about fifteen feet by fifteen feet.

“All right. Let's get this show on the road,” Dad said. He clapped and then ran toward the field. “All right, Panthers! Pick up your soccer balls and gather around.”

I noticed that the girls obeyed Dad pretty quickly, without a lot of giggling or goofing around. That was a good sign, I thought. It meant they respected Dad as a coach. Emma, Frida, and Zoe came and stood by me and Jessi.

“We've got some extra helpers today,” Dad said. “You all remember Jessi, Devin, and Zoe, right?”

Jessi, Zoe, and I waved hello to the girls, and they waved back. Besides Maisie, I recognized Juliet, a little girl with short blond hair, and Kaylin, who had long, brown braids. We called Juliet “mini-Zoe,” and Kaylin “mini-Jessi” because they looked like mini versions of my friends. And Jessi insisted on calling Maisie “mini-Devin.” We sort of did look alike, even though Maisie's brown hair was shorter than mine.

“All right. Our first drill is called No Toes!” Dad announced. “I want to see you all dribble around the inside of the square. Try to keep control of the ball so it doesn't leave the square. And when you're dribbling, remember not to use your toes.”

Dad dropped a ball in front of him and started to
demonstrate. “Start with the inside of your foot. Then the outside of your foot. Then practice with the bottom of your foot, and then your laces. Got it?”

“Got it, Coach!” the girls called out in unison.

The girls ran into the square and started dribbling. They had looks of intense concentration on their faces. Mini-Zoe was sticking her tongue out.

“Aren't they so cute?” Emma whispered.

“Definitely,” I replied.

“You five head in there and watch what they're doing,” Dad said. “Help them out if they need it.”

We jogged into the square, and Emma clapped her hands. “Okay, so inside, outside, bottom, laces,” she chanted.

“Inside, outside, bottom, laces!” the girls repeated.

I had never thought about it before, but Emma made a really good coach! Her naturally positive attitude brought great energy to the practice.

I chanted along with them and zigzagged around the girls, watching them practice.

“No toes!” I instructed one girl, and she nodded and kicked it with the inside of her foot instead.

The girls got the hang of it, pretty much, and after a few minutes Dad blew his whistle.

“Great job! Now I think we're ready for some Keep Away,” Dad said. He turned to me and my friends. “Girls, please make the square a little smaller for me. And can you demonstrate how this one is done?”

“Sure!” Emma answered for us. We had all done this drill as kids. “I'll defend. Jessi, Devin, and Zoe, you can be attackers.”

“And I'll set the scene,” Frida said, as the rest of us quickly went to work moving the cones to make a smaller square. Then Frida explained things to the little girls. “Jessi, Zoe, and Devin are the attackers, and they will start with control of the ball. Emma is the defender, and she has to try to get the ball away from them. The attackers must pass the ball between them ten times to score a goal. If the defender intercepts the ball and kicks it out of the square, she scores a goal.”

The Panthers looked a little bit confused.

“Don't worry. It's easy once you see it,” Emma said. “Watch.”

“Oh, and I forgot one rule,” Frida called out. “Each attacker can touch the ball only twice before passing it.”

“Got it!” Jessi said, stopping the ball that Dad threw into the square.

Emma ran right up to her, trying to get the ball from her. Jessi turned her back to Emma, kicked the ball a few feet in front of her, and then passed it to Zoe.

Emma sped after the ball, but she wasn't fast enough. Zoe stopped the ball and then quickly passed it to me.

I stopped the ball and then made a quick pass, right to—Emma? I was supposed to be keeping it away from Emma! She kicked the ball out of the square and let out a triumphant “Woo-hoo!”

I didn't know what had happened. I'd spaced out, I guessed. I'd been excited to pass the ball and had passed it to the closest player without thinking. What a rookie mistake!

Some of the little girls were laughing.

“Hey, don't laugh at my sister!” I heard Maisie say. “She's the best soccer player in the whole world.”

That was awfully sweet of Maisie, and I probably would have appreciated it if I hadn't felt so embarrassed.

“So, um, do we need another demonstration?” Jessi asked.

I jogged out of the square. “Frida, you're in for me,” I said.

My four friends demonstrated the drill again, and this time Emma was a little more challenged to intercept the ball. Jessi, Zoe, and Frida completed ten passes and won the round.

“Think you guys can do this?” Emma asked the younger girls, and they all cheered, “Yes!” Then Emma picked Maisie and three other girls to give the drill a try.

I moved away from the action and leaned against a tree.

So much for confidence. The only thing I was confident of now was that my soccer mojo was gone, and I had no idea how to get it back!

When Maisie's practice was done, I said good-bye to my friends and climbed into the Marshmallow with Dad and Maisie.

“Thanks for your help today, Devin,” Dad said.

“Yeah,” said Maisie. “That was fun.”

“Uh-huh,” I said lamely, staring out the window. I couldn't even enjoy Maisie acting like a human toward me, because I was so depressed about losing my soccer mojo.

When we got home, I showered, did homework, and ate dinner, feeling blah with every step. The only thing that nudged me out of my mood was a group text I got after dinner, originating from Emma.

Devin, your best friends are cordially inviting you to Pizza Kitchen tomorrow after soccer practice. RSVP ASAP.

I giggled when I saw the message, and then I went down
and asked Mom if it was okay. She said yes, and I texted back right away.

I'll be there. What's up?

Wouldn't you like to know?
Emma replied.

I had no idea what my friends were planning, but just getting the text made me feel a lot better. I went to sleep looking forward to the next day, and I actually slept through the night. I felt a little more like myself the next morning.

Not that the next day was perfect or anything. Far from it. Things didn't get annoying until after lunch (where I begged everyone to tell me what was up, but nobody would), when I went to World Civ class. Mr. Emmet handed back our tests on the Roman empire, and mine had a big red 58 on it, just like I'd feared. I knew that was an F.

“Some of you in the class had trouble with this test,” Mr. Emmet announced. “I'm wondering if it had something to do with the earthquake the night before. If you're interested in taking a retest, come talk to me after class.”

At first I felt relieved. A retest meant the chance to improve my grade! And that thought made me happy, until the bell rang. As I headed toward Mr. Emmet's desk, I saw Steven move toward me, like he was going to ask me to walk with him. Hailey was hanging right behind him.

But I had to talk to Mr. Emmet, so I shrugged and kind of motioned toward the desk, where a few other kids had gathered. Now Steven and Hailey knew that I had failed
the test! So embarrassing. I felt like melting into the floor.

Mr. Emmet put me on the list for the retest, and I headed to English. Steven and Hailey were laughing about something, and I felt a pang of jealousy as I took my seat. I did my best to shrug it off. It shouldn't have bothered me that Steven was talking to another girl. I just sort of missed having his attention on me.

Then, after school, Mom brought me to practice. We had a scrimmage, and because we had to divide up our team to play against each other, I got to play the whole game.

I played okay, but not my best. I didn't mess up—well, not badly, anyway.

A couple of times I lost focus and wasn't on top of the ball when I should have been.

“Look alive, Devin!” Coach Darby called out.

I tried to stop being a soccer zombie and made a few good passes, but I didn't score any goals. I had probably failed to really impress Coach Darby.

So what was to blame? Bad luck? Not-so-good luck? Or had I really, truly lost my soccer skills? As I walked off the field, I imagined a poster in my head:
MISSING! DEVIN'S SOCCER MOJO. LAST SEEN ON THE PINEWOOD SOCCER FIELD.

After practice Jessi was all smiles as we got into Mom's car to head to the pizza place.

“I wish I knew what you guys were up to,” I said.