Playing With the Boys (10 page)

Coach Offredi approached. “I don’t care what your name is,” he told her gruffly. “You’re standing on my field.”

“I’m here to try out.” Lucy gulped, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Even Benji’s. “Martie said she already mentioned it to you. . . . I’m here to try out. For the kicker position.”

The coach chuckled as he looked down at his clipboard. He was in his late fifties, with a little bit of a pot belly and a big handlebar walrus mustache. Lucy wondered if he was anybody’s dad or grandpa and then instantly felt sorry for them.

“So lemme get this straight. You were cut from
girls’
soccer, and now
Miss
Reese thinks we could find a spot for you here . . . on the varsity football team. Doesn’t make much sense to me.”

Lucy couldn’t really argue. It didn’t make much sense to her either. And standing here, in front of this jerk, surrounded by guys who were looking at her as if she had the plague, every fiber of her being wanted to back down, to slink away, to call Annie and tell her what a monumental mistake she’d just made . . . but something in her just clicked. She knew Martie was right. She could kick farther than any girl in this school—maybe than some of the boys, too.

“Look, Martie said there were tryouts, and she said I’m allowed to try out, so . . .” She trailed off, not sure what else to say. She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and shrugged her shoulders up toward her ears. Sure, she wasn’t exactly the epitome of confidence, but this was the best she could do.

Suddenly, she heard a voice. “We talked about this, Coach ... and we agreed.” Lucy spun around, coming face-to-face with Martie.

“
Miss
Reese,” he said again, emphasizing the “Miss.” “No one said she couldn’t try,” Coach Offredi said,“but no one said she was going to make it either.”

Martie smiled. “Oh, she’ll make it.” Lucy tried to keep a straight face. It felt good to have Martie behind her.

“Go join the others,” Coach Offredi said dismissively.

Lucy looked at Martie nervously. Martie gave her a gentle push. “Go on,” she said warmly. “You’ve got this.”

seven

Lucy walked over to where the other kickers were warming up on the sidelines down toward the far goalposts. Martie took a seat in the stands to watch, just as Coach Offredi informed them that they would be waiting until the end of practice to have the PAT and field goal tryout. Lucy had no idea what “PAT” meant, but she nodded along with the other hopefuls, trying to blend in as much as possible.

While the team practiced, under the instruction of another, younger coach, Benji and the other wannabes warmed up their legs, kicking the ball the length of the sideline. As Benji grabbed the ball and set it on a tee, Lucy stood nervously, arms folded in front of her chest. She barely even knew how to kick a football. With a soccer ball it was easy—it was round and every side was the same—but a football had laces, and it seemed oddly shaped in comparison. Lucy grabbed a ball and mimicked the other kickers, setting up a tee on the grass. She glanced around, lost. She had no clue what she was doing. Was this even right?

Whatever
, she thought. She’d just get this over with so she could show Martie she’d done it. Besides, maybe if Martie saw how committed she was to being a part of a team, she’d reconsider about having Lucy on varsity soccer
.

Now that she’d been cut, she couldn’t help but feel excluded.Today at lunch, she’d listened to Pickle and Max laugh about something that had happened at practice. Through the giggles, Lucy had been able to make out something about Heather peeing in her pants, but Pickle and Max had never fully explained the story.

Finally, the whistle blew. Practice was over for the team. As the boys headed for the showers, Coach Offredi asked Devon, the backup quarterback, to stay and be the holder. Holder was usually one of Benji’s positions, but since he was trying out, Devon didn’t mind filling in.

Coach Offredi yelled over to the sidelines. “Okay,
guys
. You’re up.”

Lucy couldn’t help but wince at the emphasis on “guys” as Coach Offredi explained what they were going to do. They’d start at the ten-yard line and attempt to kick a field goal.

Lucy wanted to clarify,
Kick it between those big posty things, right?
But she didn’t dare ask.

Coach Offredi continued to explain that if they made the kick three times in a row, they’d advance back another ten yards. The person who kicked the farthest and the most accurately would be named Beachwood varsity’s placekicker.

The placekicker from the freshman team, Colin, went first. Lucy could tell he was nervous to be up with the big guys, but the other players obviously knew of him and cheered him on. He had no problem, at ten yards, making the distance. The ball easily sailed between the goalposts and cleared the crossbar. Colin made the kick once, twice, but then the third time, it bounced off the left upright. Flustered, he tried again. And again. Benji and Lucy watched, nervously, as Colin seemed to unravel before their eyes. Finally, after he had tried eight times . . .

“Colin, that’s enough,” Coach Offredi barked gruffly. “Benji, you’re up.”

Colin had no choice but to hit the bench. He was out.

Benji stepped up. He rubbed his palms on his pants and took a deep breath, then easily kicked three field goals in four tries. A few of the lingering players gave a cheer as Benji jogged back to the bench. He sat down, triumphant.

Lucy stood up next. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure everyone could hear. With the exception of warming up, she’d never seriously kicked a football in her life. Playing around with her dad was one thing, but this was something entirely different. And while she’d scored plenty of soccer goals, a field goal was another story. She didn’t even know how many points you earned for a field goal—one, three, seven? She wished she’d run this whole trying-out idea by Pickle and Max one more time. Surely they would have stopped her.

She stepped up to the ten-yard line, where Devon knelt with the football. Lucy felt all eyes on her. Even Regan and the cheerleaders had put down their pom-poms to watch.

Lucy stepped back and off to the side, just as she’d seen the boys do. She took a deep breath, then sprang forward, taking two long strides before she drove the toe of her shoe—like she’d seen Colin and Benji do—into the football. Her foot landed high. She kicked a low line drive, end over end, right into the ground.

Couch Offredi chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

Lucy’s face turned red. She saw Benji give her a slight sympathetic smile from the bench, as if to say,
It’s okay—no one really expected you to be able to do it
. She glanced at Martie in the stands.

Martie gestured and shouted. “Kick with the top of your foot,” she indicated. “Like soccer. Not with your toe.”

“Okay, let’s move it back,” Coach Offredi ordered.

Lucy didn’t budge. Everyone else had had more than one turn. Why was she suddenly the exception?

“Don’t I get to go again?” she asked, indignant, hoping no one heard her voice wavering a little. “I mean, everyone else did.” She wanted to try to kick with Martie’s adjustment. It might make a difference.

Coach Offredi looked at Lucy and gave a long sigh. “Fine. Go ahead.”

Devon set up the ball again. Lucy kept her head down but let her eyes rise up and look at the space between the goalposts, the space where the ball was supposed to go.

She took a deep breath.

She took two steps back. And then moved one step to the left to get a better angle from which to kick the ball.

Another deep breath. She could do this.
Right?

Her eyes looked once again at the space.

She licked her lips. They felt dry. She wondered where her Burt’s Bees was. She quickly dismissed that thought. Now was
not
the time to be thinking about lip balm.

Another deep breath. She told herself to focus.

She thought of Martie’s words.
Top of your foot. Not your toe. Like soccer.

Then she lunged forward.

One step . . . another step . . .

Her foot swung back and then forward, hitting the football lower this time.

It flew from under Devon’s finger, toppling end over end.

Lucy’s head jerked up as it soared closer and closer and closer—above the crossbar and through the goalposts. . . .

It sailed through perfectly!

Lucy’s jaw dropped in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it! She’d made it! She’d actually kicked a field goal on only her second try!

Excited, she jumped and spun around, giving out a little yell of joy. But all she was greeted with was dead silence. No one even clapped or cheered. Coach Offredi’s face was frozen in a look of shock and horror. Devon’s mouth hung open like that of a dead fish. Even Benji looked stunned.

Lucy tried to conceal the smirk on her face as she turned back around for her second kick. She couldn’t deny it.That had been awesome. Her heart soared. Knowing she’d just done something that no one expected her to do made her feel . . . as if anything were suddenly possible. She pressed her lips together. Now she was ready. She knew what it felt like to do it right. She knew she could do it again.

BAM! And BAM! She kicked two more through. Coach Offredi raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Okay,” he ordered her.“Ten yards back. Let’s go to the twenty. Benji, you too.”

Lucy looked to Benji. “Good job,” she said.

He nodded, impressed. “Yeah, you too, Luce.” As he walked by her, he playfully punched her in the arm. “Next time, warn a guy if he’s about to get his butt kicked.” Lucy smiled as he took his turn at the twenty-yard line.

On his first try, he missed.

The ball easily flew over thirty yards, but his aim was off. Martie
had
pointed out to Lucy that soccer players were even more accurate than football players.

From the bench, Lucy sighed. “Come on,” she murmured under her breath. It didn’t matter that they were competing for the same position. She still wanted him to make it.

Again he tried. And missed. Again. And again. Finally, it sailed through. But the next time, he missed again. Finally, even Coach Offredi had to concede that it was Lucy’s turn.

He looked at her as if the mere sight of her annoyed him. “You’re up.” Benji sank onto the bench, discouraged.

Lucy stood up and dried her sweaty hands on her shorts—not that she needed dry hands to kick the ball. As she headed to the twenty-yard line, she realized that the closer to the middle of the field she stood, the tinier she felt. It seemed strange being this little girl standing in the middle of such a giant field. Even though it was only one hundred yards long, it felt more like one hundred miles. She glanced around nervously, and to her surprise noticed that a small crowd had gathered on the opposite side of the field. Pickle, Charlie, Max, Carla, and a few of the other girls from the team had joined Martie. Lucy smiled at the sight of them all together.

“Let’s go, Luce,” Pickle yelled. “You can do this!”

“I can do this,” Lucy murmured to herself. She nodded to Devon that she was ready. He knelt down to hold the ball, as she told herself to do what she’d done a few minutes ago. Well, not what she did on the first kick, obviously . . . but what she’d done on the other three.

She took a deep breath, then easily knocked the ball through the goalposts one . . . two . . . then three more times! Lucy’s heart soared. The other players stared in disbelief. She’d known she had a good sense of where to send the ball from soccer—she could always be counted on for corner kicks—but this was pretty incredible. She beamed.

She was doing it! She was kicking field goals! And not only kicking them, but making them! She tried to conceal her smile but couldn’t. The corners of her mouth couldn’t help but turn up, until she saw Coach Offredi.

His arms were folded across his chest as he shook his head. This obviously hadn’t been what he wanted to see. He couldn’t hide the shock on his face. Even some of the players who had come up from the locker room to watch looked stunned. Benji’s jaw dropped. Even Devon shook his head, amazed.

“Back to the thirty,” Coach Offredi snapped, without giving her an inch. He was obviously fed up with having to indulge the idea of a girl on a football team. He wanted to prove she didn’t belong.