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Authors: Matt Christopher
Goalkeeper in Charge
Copyright © 2002 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
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®
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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.
ISBN: 978-0-316-09385-9
Contents
The #1 Sports Series for Kids: MATT CHRISTOPHER
®
Y
ou’re such a DOPE! I can’t believe how lame you are! I’m ashamed to know you!
Tina Esparza kicked a pebble off the sidewalk, as if the pebble had said those hurtful things to her. Of course, it hadn’t
said a thing.
A nasty little voice in Tina’s own head had said them. And she knew she deserved every word.
She was walking home from school with her best friend, Meg Janis. Tina, slender and dark-haired, was a few inches shorter
than Meg, whose hair was light brown and curly. The girls were twelve years old and this had been their second day of seventh
grade. For Tina, it hadn’t been a good day at all. In fact, it had been
terrible
.
What’s the matter with you, anyway? the nasty little voice whined. Don’t you have any sense at all?
“Tina?” asked Meg, looking at her friend with a puzzled expression. “Did you say something?” When Tina didn’t reply, she spoke
again, a little louder. “Hello? Anybody home?
HEY
!”
Startled, Tina blinked and looked at Meg. “Huh? Why are you yelling at me?”
Meg rolled her eyes. “I was yelling because you didn’t seem to hear me when I talked in a regular voice. You were mumbling
to yourself, and you looked like you’d swallowed a rotten egg. What’s going on?”
Tina said, “Nothing’s going on.”
“Hey, Teen, this is Meg, remember? Your friend Meg? Don’t say nothing’s going on, because I know that there has to be something.
“It isn’t just now, either. Today, when Ms. Gould asked you about the poem we read in class, about what it meant, remember?
You just sat there like she was speaking some weird language you didn’t understand. I know you’re smart. I know you could’ve
come up with an answer, but you just sat there. How come?”
Tina was tempted to say she didn’t know what Meg was talking about, but Meg
was
her closest friend,
and Tina knew that she had to talk to somebody. She sighed.
“Sure, I knew the answer,” she admitted. “It’s just that when she asked the question and the other kids turned to look at
me and … I just felt all these eyes
staring
at me … and I… couldn’t…
talk
My brain wouldn’t work, my mouth wouldn’t work, and I, well,
you
know. It’s not like it’s the first time.”
Meg nodded. “No, it’s happened before. But I think it’s getting worse lately. Am I right?”
“I don’t know, I guess,” answered Tina. “Ms. Gould must think I’m totally dumb. And when it happens in other classes, those
teachers will think so too. I do the same thing when I’m with a bunch of other kids. It’s like, sometimes I turn into a statue
for a while. The worst part is, I don’t have a clue what to do about it.”
Meg thought it over. “I wouldn’t worry about teachers. You do well on tests and homework, and they’ll know you’re smart. But
the other kids … it won’t make you Miss Popularity with other girls if you go around imitating a clam with it’s shell shut
tight. And as for
boys
— well, forget it.”
“I don’t care about boys,” Tina said.
“No?” Meg sounded doubtful. “Okay, if you say so. But you may change your mind someday.”
The girls had reached Tina’s house. “Want to kick a ball around for a while?” Tina asked. “We could use some practice.” Both
girls loved soccer and would start playing with a team called the Wildcats in a few days. The Wildcats were part of a league
for players from twelve to fourteen. Now that they were twelve, their games would be on a full-sized field, with eleven players
on each team.
“Sure,” Meg agreed. “There isn’t much homework yet, so I have time.”
“Wait a second,” Tina called, running to the garage to get a ball. She came out dribbling the ball, passing it from foot to
foot. The girls went into Tina’s backyard and began kicking the ball around the lawn.
“What’s your favorite part of soccer?” Meg asked as she received Tina’s pass with her knee and let the ball drop to the grass.
“Shooting? Passing? Tough defense?”
Tina stopped Meg’s kick by trapping the ball under her shoe. “My favorite?” She expertly flipped the ball up, juggled it from
one knee to the other,
and kicked it back to Meg. “I guess my favorite part is that it’s a team sport.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Meg said, trying unsuccessfully to flip the ball up as Tina had done. Meg wasn’t as good as
Tina. She knew it and had no problem with it. “Teamwork, playing as a team, it’s pretty cool.”
“Actually,” Tina said, “what I mean is, when there are a lot of players out there, nobody’s watching
you
, especially. You know? You just sort of fit in with the group. That’s what I really like. Now we’ll have eleven on the same
side, and it’ll be even easier to just blend in.”
Meg laughed. “You’re strange sometimes. You’re the only player I know who doesn’t want to be a star. In fact, you’d
hate
it, because people
look
at stars. Am I right?”
Tina trapped the ball under her foot. “You’re right,” she agreed, and laughed. “I’d probably like it even better if there
were
twenty
players on a team. Anyway, I hope I’ll be able to keep doing the same things with the Wildcats that I’m used to doing.”
Meg shook her head. “Weird,” she said. “How did
I ever get to be friends with such a weird person? Oh, by the way, I heard some stuff about the Wildcats’ coach. My cousin
played for her last year.”
“What did you hear?” asked Tina.
Meg said, “Well, her name is Danielle Barron. My cousin says she was fun to work with, that she never screamed at anyone,
and that all she wants is for everyone to do her best. She isn’t one of those ’We have to win, and nothing else matters’ coaches.”
“Sounds good,” Tina said, getting her foot under the ball and chipping it high so that Meg could “head” it — hit the ball
with her forehead. In soccer, you can touch the ball with any part of your body except your hands and arms, unless you’re
a goalkeeper. Goalkeepers, or keepers, can use their hands to catch and throw the ball.
Meg lunged at the ball, which bounced off the top of her head at a crazy angle and went into the bushes. As she turned to
get it, a voice called out from nearby: “When you head the ball, try to hit it with the middle of your forehead, right below
your hairline.”
Tina and Meg turned and saw a boy of about their age standing at the back door of the neighboring
house. He had straw-blond hair and blue eyes, and had just moved into the neighborhood. Tina knew that Meg’s big smile was
a sign that Meg thought he was cute.
“Hi,” Tina said. “You’re Dave, right?”
The boy nodded. “Dave Knowles. You’re Tina?”
“Yeah. Tina Esparza.”
Meg cleared her throat noisily.
“And, uh, this is my friend Meg Janis.”
Dave grinned. “Hi, Meg.”
“Nice to meet you, Dave,” Meg said, smiling even more. “And thanks for the tips on heading the ball. I can never do that right.
Maybe you can help me sometime.”
Oh, good grief! Tina thought. When it came to boys, Meg was unbelievable.
“I play soccer too,” said Dave. “I’m looking for a team to play with. Is it okay if I kick the ball around a little with you?”
Meg spoke first, while Tina was getting the ball out of the bushes. “Sure!” she said. “It’s always better with three people
than with two. There are lots of teams around. You won’t have any trouble getting
on one of them. Do you play any position in particular?”
Tina chipped the ball to Dave, who headed it perfectly to Meg. He said, “I was a defenseman last year, but I could be a wing
too. I’m pretty fast. I’ll play any position, just so I can be on a team.”
Staring at Dave, Meg let the ball go past her. Tina giggled, and Meg glared at her.
As they played, Tina decided that Dave
was
a pretty good player and that Meg didn’t care how good he was, as long as he had those blue eyes and that blond hair.
“Uh-oh,” Dave said, looking at his watch. “This is fun, but I’d better go home. I have stuff to do before dinner. Nice meeting
you, Meg. I guess I’ll see you both at school.”
“See you,” replied Tina.
“We’ll
definitely
see you!” Meg said, with another of her big, dumb smiles.
After Dave had gone inside, Tina snickered. “We’ll
definitely
see you!” she mimicked, putting a sappy grin on her face.
“What’s wrong with what I said?” Meg demanded. “Is he or is he not a nice boy?”
Tina shrugged. “I guess, yeah.”
“Is it a crime to be nice to a nice boy?”
Tina kicked the ball into the open garage door. “No, it’s not,” she admitted.
Meg sat on the grass. “Well, okay. You might think about being nice to him, too.”
Tina sat down facing her friend. “Me? I
was
nice! I didn’t say anything mean, did I?”
“No, you didn’t say anything mean. You hardly said anything at all!” Meg said. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Tina said. “I didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t know
what
to say.”
Meg waved her hands in frustration. “You could have talked about soccer or if he likes his teachers. You could’ve talked about
his favorite music or
your
favorite music or if pizza is better with mushrooms or sausages. You could’ve talked about anything!”
Tina stared at the grass. “When you say it, it sounds so easy. When you talk to people, you act like you’re enjoying it.”
“I
am
enjoying it! And it
is
easy!”
“For you!” Tina snapped. “Not me! I open my mouth and try to think of what to say and nothing comes out. So I feel stupid,
which means that more
nothing comes out! And don’t ask why, because I don’t know!”
There was a silence, which Meg broke. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you. And I wish I had some ideas to help, but I don’t.
“Except, now you have this cute next-door neighbor. Can you
talk
to him a little? It’d be good practice. And he’s going to make new friends, who could become
your
friends, and you could talk to them too. It would be a start.”
Tina stood up. “You’re right. I’ll try. I know I should do it, so I’ll talk to him. It’s just… it’s not going to be easy,
that’s all.”
Meg stood up too. “Maybe it won’t be as hard as you think.” She laughed. “I can tell you one thing — if Dave was
my
neighbor, I sure wouldn’t have any trouble at all!”
In spite of herself, Tina couldn’t help laughing too. Meg was just Meg, especially when it came to boys.
A
re you coming straight home from school today?” Mrs. Esparza asked Tina.
“No, Mom,” Tina said. “I have soccer practice, remember?”
The Esparza family was having breakfast. Next to Tina, her eight-year-old brother, Sammy, made a face as he played with his
cereal. “Soccer is lame. Baseball rules!”
“Hey!” said Mr. Esparza. “Don’t knock soccer. It’s the world’s most popular sport.
And
it’s the most popular sport in this house, two to one. Right, sweetie?”
“Right, Dad,” Tina replied.
“Mom loves baseball,” Sammy said. “So it’s a tie for most popular sport in the house.”
Mrs. Esparza smiled. “Sammy, you know I’ll cheer for you in baseball games, and I’ll cheer for Tina in
soccer games. But I don’t have a favorite sport. To me, they’re both the same — impossible to understand.”
Mr. Esparza sighed. “Now that,
I
don’t understand. Baseball, sure, that’s hard to follow. But soccer is as natural as breathing. Is breathing hard to understand?”
Mr. Esparza had grown up in Argentina and played soccer — or
futbol
, as he sometimes called it — throughout his early years. He’d injured his knee as a young man and had to stop playing. But
he followed the sport, rooting for Argentina in big international events such as the World Cup. When his old “home team,”
the Boca Juniors, was on cable TV, he watched.