Win or Lose (4 page)

Zoe had her back to us because she was looking in a mirror. She had on a hot-pink strapless dress with a short but kind of puffy skirt.

“Oh my gosh! You look gorgeous!” Emma cried.

Zoe spun around. “You're finally here! I just—” She stopped, and her face fell. “You guys are so dirty!”

“We came right from practice,” Jessi said quickly. “So come on, let's try on some dresses.”

Just then Zoe's mom came out of the back room with another woman, who had short black hair with bangs. She had on a navy-blue dress, black heels, and a silver necklace. She looked like one of those people who was always perfectly neat from head to toe.

Zoe's mom looked surprised. “Girls! I didn't realize you had practice today.”

“Well, with the play-offs and all . . . ,” I said. “We got here as soon as we could.”

“Hello, I'm Debi,” the dark-haired woman said, pronouncing it “de-BEE.” She actually tossed her head as she said the “BEE” part, and really elongated the vowels, making it sound like a fancy European name or something. I
felt Emma shake next to me. I looked at her. She grinned as she tried to hold back a laugh.

Debi stared at us in horror for a second before plastering a smile on her face that didn't look exactly real.

“How nice of you to come for your friend,” she said, but the way she said it as she took in our mud-splattered clothes made us know she thought it was anything but nice. “However, perhaps we should arrange for another time for you to try on your dresses.”

Zoe frowned. “But everyone's here!”

“Zoe, we can always come back,” her mother said.

“Can't they just watch and I'll show them the dresses I picked out?” Zoe asked.

Debi nervously eyed her couches. “I'm not sure if that's such a good idea.”

Jessi looked at me and rolled her eyes. Those couches had clearly seen better days. I'm not sure what Debi was so worried about, but if she didn't want us in her discount dress shop, what could we do?

“We can come back soon, Zoe, I promise,” I said.

Zoe looked like she was going to cry, and then Jessi's eyes lit up.

“Everybody, wait! I've got an idea,” she said, and then she ran out of the store.

Emma, Frida, and I looked at each other, too afraid to move and not sure what to do. Finally Emma shrugged and pulled a bag of bright orange cheese puffs out of her backpack and ripped open the top.

Frida frantically shook her head and put her hand to her throat, making a cutting motion. “Don't!” she whispered loudly.

“But I'm always starving after practice,” Emma whispered back. She took a cheese puff out of the bag and popped it into her mouth, as a horrified gasp filled the room.

“There is no food in my store!” Debi said, clutching her hand over her heart as her eyes widened in shock. “If you can even call that food!”

“Sorry,” Emma mumbled, spraying little orange crumbs out of her mouth. She swallowed and then looked at her hand. The cheese puff had turned her fingers bright orange. She wiped them on her shirt, adding a smear of orange to all the mud.

“Oops,” she said as she looked down at her jersey. Debi folded her arms and gave Emma a look like no other. Although, come to think of it, it did remind me of my dad's face when Maisie had dropped his cell phone into the toilet.

Emma smiled sheepishly and put the bag of cheese puffs back into her bag. I glanced at Zoe. She was too miserable to say anything.

Then Jessi ran back in, carrying a bunch of green rain ponchos.

“Mom always has these in the car for soccer games,” she said. She pulled one on, the hood making a green point over her head. “See? Instant protection.”

Emma giggled. “You look like a gnome.”

“I was thinking more like a pea,” I said. I took one of the ponchos from Jessi and put it on. “What do you think?” I did a twirl.

“Very fashionable!” Jessi said. “Maybe we can just wear these to the bat mitzvah.”

Zoe winced at that as Emma and Frida put their ponchos on too. “You're, like, a supergenius, Jessi,” I said. “All the dirt and mud is sealed inside. Debi, your store should be safe.”

Zoe looked hopefully at her mom and Debi. The store owner didn't look thrilled, but she reluctantly gave in.

“Please, my name is pronounced ‘de-BEE,' ” Debi said snootily. She sighed. “Oh, very well. I suppose if you just sit very still and don't go near my dresses,” she said. “And, you!” She pointed at Emma. “No more of those orange things!”

Zoe immediately got happy, as if the mud and the cheese puffs had never happened. “Oh, thank you!” Then she turned to us. “I'm trying to decide between this and another dress. And I picked out some that I think would look great on all of you. We can always come back so you can try them on.”

“I love the dress you're wearing,” Frida said.

Zoe grinned. “Thanks. I kind of love it too. But then there's this other one that's just a little more fashion forward.”

We tried not to move around as we waited for Zoe to
return from the dressing room with her mom. Debi went to help some other people who came into the shop, but she kept looking at us to make sure we weren't moving.

Emma glanced at some of the mannequins in the window.

“These dresses are fancy,” she remarked. “Do you think I'll have to wear heels?”

I giggled. “Oh my gosh, Emma. You know I love you, but you have a hard time not tripping in sneakers. How could you wear heels?”

“I know!” Emma wailed. “Besides, I'd be, like, eight feet tall!”

We were all giggling now, but we stopped when Zoe came back.

“Wow, that's really cool,” I said. This dress was strapless too, with a full skirt, but it was black, and then it had all these silvery flowers sewn down the bodice and on the skirt.

Zoe twirled around in the mirror. “I really like it,” she said.

“It's pretty,” Emma said. “But the pink one seems more fun.”

“And it's a little more youthful,” her mother added.

Zoe frowned. “I can't decide!”

“Why don't you show us the dresses you picked out for us?” I suggested. “Maybe you just need to step back, you know?”

Zoe nodded. “Good idea.”

So then Zoe gave us a fashion show as she tried on the dresses she thought each of us would like. I guess I should admit that I wasn't superbig on fashion. I didn't wear jeans and T-shirts all the time, like Emma, but I didn't read magazines and watch all the fashion TV shows like Zoe did either. So I was kind of glad that Zoe had some dress ideas.

“Okay, this one's for Frida,” Zoe said when she came back wearing a black sleeveless dress with layers of fringe all down the front. It kind of looked like something from the 1920s.

Frida gasped. “That is fabulous!”

“It fits your dark and quirky personality,” Zoe remarked. “Plus, I think black looks nice with your hair.”

Frida ran a hand through her wavy auburn hair. “Yes, I know,” she said in a fake snooty voice. It reminded us all of Debi, and we broke out in giggles. Frida held up her phone. “Let me take a picture.”

Zoe posed like a model, and Frida took the shot. Next Zoe put on a dress for Jessi. This one was strapless and straight and made of sparkly silver fabric.

“That's right! I need some bling!” Jessi cried happily, high-fiving me.

“Zoe, you are great at this,” I said. I was starting to get excited to see what she had picked out for me. “You could so be a professional stylist.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, mimicking Frida. “Okay, let me try on Emma's dress.”

The next dress she modeled was a shimmering emerald green with a halter-type top, a belt around the waist, and a longer skirt.

“It's the hot color this year,” she explained. “And it doesn't look exactly right on me because I'm so short. But it will look perfect on you, Emma.”

Emma's eyes were wide; she looked excited and nervous at the same time. “Whatever you say!”

“Me next! Me next!” I was practically bouncing in my seat the way Maisie did when she was excited.

“Okay! Okay!” Zoe said, laughing. She left, and it seemed like forever before she came back, but when she did—I couldn't believe my eyes.

I swear it was the prettiest dress I had ever seen. It was light blue and sleeveless, and the bodice had these silver flowers sewn on one side. The skirt was layers of light ruffles that made me think of clouds and the sky.

“Kicks blue,” Zoe said with a grin.

“I love it!” I cried. “What do they call that fabric on the skirt part?”

“It's organza,” Zoe answered. “Sometimes organza layers can look like a ballet costume or something, but these are draped in a really natural way. It's going to look great on you.”

“Now
I
need to take a picture,” I said, and Zoe posed while I snapped one on my phone. I couldn't wait to show Kara.

“I will put these dresses aside until you girls can come
back for a fitting and your parents can buy the dresses for you,” Debi said, walking up with a clipboard in her hand. “Just give me your sizes.”

When Debi was done with us, we carefully stood up and packed up the ponchos. Zoe had changed back into her regular clothes.

“Sorry about being so dirty,” I said. “The field was really muddy today.”

“I'm glad you guys came,” Zoe said. “And I'm sorry I missed practice. But this is a big deal for me, you know? I've been waiting for this for, like, my whole life.”

I nodded. It was kind of how I felt about getting into the play-offs.

“When we come back, we'll be clean,” Jessi promised.

“I certainly hope so,” Debi said loudly, and Jessi and I looked at each other, trying not to crack up.

We tumbled outside, laughing.

“I thought she was going to clean us off with a fire hose,” Jessi said.

“Actually, that sounds like fun right now,” Emma said.

I sniffed the air. “You know, I just realized that we probably smell as bad as we look.”

Frida shuddered. “Let's just get home and shower, please.”

Jessi's mom pulled up, and we all piled into the minivan. Picking out dresses had been pretty easy. I just hoped that beating the Tigers would be easy too!

I could swear a bunch of butterflies were doing a little dance in my stomach as Dad pulled into the Newton Middle School parking lot Saturday morning. It was an hour before game time, but Dad, Mom, and Maisie had come to get good seats for the game while I warmed up with the team.

The last time we'd played the Tigers, they had destroyed us, but that was before we'd gotten our act together as a team. I knew the Tigers would be confident going in, and it looked like their fans were too. They had tied about a hundred black and orange balloons to the fence surrounding the field, and the stands were already filled with Tigers fans wearing black and orange.

As we walked toward the field, I looked back at my family and was grateful that they were all wearing Kicks blue.

“
So when you win this game, do you get a big trophy or something?” Maisie asked.

I shook my head. “No, but close. This is just the first round of the play-offs. If we win today, we'll have to go on and play one more team. If we beat them, we'll get the division trophy. We'll be league champions!”

“And then they can go on to enter the early rounds of the state championships,” Dad said, and I felt a little shiver of excitement.

The state championships! There was actually a chance that we could win state, just like the Kicks had when Coach Flores had played on the team. I felt the butterflies flutter again, and then I told myself to focus. We had to win this game first.

I felt a little more comfortable when we got a view of the away-team stands and I saw some blue shirts. There were a lot of Kicks on the field already.

“See you later!” I said, and then I ran toward my team.

“Good luck, honey!” Mom called out. “And don't forget—”

“To hydrate! I know!” I called over my shoulder. I think Mom thought I was going to shrivel up and turn to dust out on the field.

I caught up with the rest of the team and tossed my duffel bag onto the sidelines. Everyone was stretching or talking or walking—you could almost see the nervous energy in the air.

Anna was jumping up and down.

“Anna,
what are you doing?” I asked.

“Can't . . . stop . . . jumping,” she said, her curly hair bouncing on top of her head.

I shook my head and walked over to Jessi.

“Everybody's, like, freaking out,” she said.

“No kidding,” I replied. “I hope we can keep it together on the field.”

Frida ran up to us. “Devin, any ideas for me today? I can't think of anything.”

Frida always played better when she pretended she was someone else on the field. It might sound weird, but it totally worked for her.