Saving the Team (11 page)

“Oh, look!” said Jessi. “They're giving those away.” Jessi strode confidently toward the far wall, where a bunch of boys were jumping up and down to the pounding music. The three of us followed. After we got some glowing plastic jewelry, we headed to the snack table and munched cookies and sipped juice. We watched the dance floor, where groups of boys and girls gathered, completely separated. Every once in a while one of the boys would hurl himself into a circle of girls, before laughing and rushing out again. His friends would cheer for him and slap his back enthusiastically when he rejoined them.

The music was getting really good, and Emma, Jessi, and I just had to dance. A bunch of the Kangaroos joined us on the dance floor: Brianna, Sarah, and Anna. Even two of the eighth graders, Grace and Anjali, danced with us for a little while. They both seemed really nice. It was a shame Mirabelle seemed determined to keep the team separated by grades. But at least we were getting a chance to hang out now!

At first Zoe wouldn't move, even though we dragged her onto the floor and bumped hips with her. But our enthusiasm was contagious, and we eventually wore her
down. She started bobbing around a little bit. Many songs later my hair was stuck to my forehead in sweaty clumps.

But then, suddenly, the music changed, going from upbeat dance music to a slow song. Everyone froze.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, startling me. It was Steven. Was he going to ask me to dance?

“Hey, um, my friend Matt wants to know if Zoe will dance with him,” he said. “Can you ask?” Ah, I guessed not.

I walked over to Zoe, who had been watching the whole exchange. Before I could even ask her, she shook her head.

“You don't want to dance with Matt?” I asked.

“No, thanks,” Zoe said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Sorry,” I said to Steven, not really needing to translate. “I guess she doesn't want to.”

Emma stepped in. “Hey, Steven, I'll dance with Matt.” Leave it to Emma to know what to do. “And Devin will dance with you.”
Wait, what?
I threw a dirty look at Emma.

“You w-will?” Steven stammered, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

I could have killed Emma. Sucking it up, I smiled at Steven and said, “Sure.” The three of us walked out onto the dance floor, where Matt materialized. Steven put his arms around my waist, and I draped my arms loosely over his shoulders. It was incredibly awkward. I hardly knew Steven!

Luckily, I spotted Jessi, who appeared next to us, dancing with Cody. Had Jessi asked Cody to dance? Wondering about that proved a good distraction, because it gave me
a break from thinking about if my palms were sweaty or if my breath smelled. She gave me a thumbs-up, then mouthed something I couldn't make out. I gave her a quizzical look, and she mouthed the words again: “He. Asked. Me.”

Cody had asked Jessi to dance! I gave her a big smile and a wink. When the song was over, Emma came rushing over and cut between me and Steven. “Matt told me there's a photo booth! We gotta go!” I gave Steven a small smile, and he waved as he walked off. I looked over to Jessi, who kept dancing with Cody as a new song began to play.

“Jessi, we're going out into the hall,” I called to her. “Come take pictures with us!”

Jessi excused herself from Cody and followed Emma and me. We grabbed Zoe on our way to the hallway, where a real old-fashioned photo booth had been set up.

Ahead of us in line a group of eighth graders was hogging the booth. Mirabelle was there, and so were a couple of the cool eighth graders from my algebra class. The whole group kept taking photos and cutting right back in for more.

“Hello, people are waiting,” Emma said. We were missing the dance, waiting for them to finish up.

“Winners can take as many photos as we want.” I recognized Trey Bishop, the eighth-grade captain of the boys' soccer team, from the pep rally. He poked a finger at us. “You losers have to wait.”

A couple of the eighth graders started to crack up.

“So what? You're good at soccer. Big whoop.” Emma wasn't intimidated at all. “Get back in line,” she shot back.

“You guys shouldn't even be called ‘Kangaroos.' You're a total embarrassment to the school,” Trey said.

“At least we don't have to make fun of other people to feel good about ourselves,” I said angrily. If I could stand up to Mirabelle, I certainly could tell this bully off. Everyone behind us was gathering around to see what was going on.

“At least we don't score on our own team.” Huge laughter, much louder this time. I noticed Mirabelle was laughing too. I felt my blood start to boil.

I guess seeing Mirabelle laughing put Zoe over the edge too. She pushed her way to stand next to Emma.

“Stop being jerks!” she yelled.

That did it. That finally shut everyone up.

But then the boys just started laughing harder. Mirabelle didn't even try to hide her laughter. Some captain she was.

Stepping aside, Trey swept his arm out and motioned for us to use the photo booth. “Go right ahead,” he said, still laughing. “Take some pictures. Just give me a copy so I can show everyone what losers look like.”

As they walked away from the booth, they singsonged, “Losers, losers, losers.” Mirabelle followed them back into the gymnasium, laughing all the way.
Traitor.

Our good mood was entirely ruined. We didn't even feel like taking photos after that.

It felt like the Kangaroos had lost again, this time off
the field. And as if Mirabelle had never been a true teammate, now she was acting like an outright enemy. That was no way for a team captain to act. I felt my eyes narrow. As the co-captain, it was up to me to do something. Mirabelle and I were going to have a little chat at practice on Monday. And this time I was looking forward to it.

That Sunday I told Kara over the phone all about what had happened at the dance.

“I can't believe she just walked away and didn't even stick up for you guys!” Kara said. “Well, maybe after everything you've told me about her, I can believe it. And her being a co-captain. It's just horrible!”

“The team can't keep going on like this. If Mirabelle can't be a good leader, I guess it's up to me,” I said.

“You can do it, Devin!” Kara said. “The Cosmos—you know what it's like—we have a lot of team events, and the captains organize them. That's part of our job. Last week it was a frozen-yogurt social. Another time we had a Saturday pizza party. How do you guys do team bonding?”

That was easy to answer: We didn't.

Kara had some good ideas. So far the Kicks had had
only lame practices and games that we couldn't win. We should totally do something as a team. But there was just one thing. “I'm not sure Mirabelle would go for it, especially after what she did at the dance.”

Kara's voice got stern and firm. “If she's awful to you, you can always talk to your coach. Mirabelle has got to be stopped. Maybe she shouldn't be co-captain anymore.”

I shuddered. I had stood up to Mirabelle once, but thinking of telling her she shouldn't be captain anymore sent a chill up my spine. Speaking to Kara, however, gave me courage. “You're right,” I said. “I'll talk to Coach if Mirabelle won't help. But I'm not sure if Coach will listen. Even though she used to be serious about soccer in college, she treats us like we're kindergartners. We don't get a chance to improve and work on our skills.”

“That's so weird to me,” said Kara. It was nice to get an outsider's perspective. It made me realize just how odd it actually was, having such a coddling coach. “Maybe if you told her how you felt?”

“I'll tackle Mirabelle first,” I said. “Not literally, but maybe if she won't listen to reason, I'll have to resort to it!”

Kara laughed. “You can do it, Devin,” she said encouragingly.

My best friend was right. The Kangaroos needed to bond as a team. And Mirabelle's laughing at us at the dance hadn't helped at all. She'd crossed the line.

I was ready to have it out with her and bring the team together.

All day Monday I kept practicing what I would say to Mirabelle that afternoon at practice.

Resolved, I headed into the locker room after school to change, ready to face Mirabelle. I was surprised at how empty and quiet it was, even though bags were strewn around and locker doors were halfway open. Then I noticed there was a commotion coming from the bathroom.

“What's going on?” I called out, heading to the back.

Opening the door, I found the whole team crowded inside. They stepped aside so I could see. There, on the mirror, scrawled in lipstick was a message for us.
BYE, LOSERS!
it said, with a big flourishing
M
at the bottom.

There was only one person who could possibly have done this.

“Mirabelle? She quit?” I couldn't believe it. I had been all ready to have it out with her, and she'd left the team?

“Not even,” Emma said. “She transferred.”

“What?” I asked, surprised.

From behind me Coach Flores said, “To Pinewood.”

The faces of the girls around me dropped in shock.

“That is just perfect,” Frida blurted out, laughing to herself. “Pinewood! I don't even know what to call that. Irony? Poetic justice? A made-for-TV movie?”

Coach Flores grabbed some paper towels and started to
furiously wipe Mirabelle's message off the mirror. It was the first time any of us had seen her angry. “Don't let this message discourage you. You girls are
not
losers. No way! It doesn't matter if we win or lose our games,” she said as she continued to scrub. Leave it to Mirabelle to use a long-lasting lipstick. “I'm sure Mirabelle had her personal reasons for leaving. They probably didn't have anything to do with our team.”

“Did she tell you that?” I asked.

“Well, I didn't talk to her directly,” Coach admitted. “I received an e-mail from her dad.”

“Did it say anything about how Mirabelle was transferring to go to a better team?” I wondered.

“No, nothing like that.” Coach Flores stopped scrubbing at the mirror and turned around to face us. “Her dad just thanked me for being her coach and said that Mirabelle had been accepted to Pinewood on scholarship. Pinewood's a very good school. It's got excellent academic and athletic programs.”

Jessi and I exchanged knowing glances.

“Aha!” I said. “So that's why she was so concerned about doing her best at the Pinewood game. She was up for a scholarship.”

“And she knew they'd be watching her,” Jessi said, and nodded in agreement.

It all made sense now. Mirabelle's insistence on making the lineup. Her saying she “needed” to win. Well, good for her. She'd gotten what she wanted.

“And I guess that's why she laughed at us at the dance, when the guys were calling us losers,” I said. “Because she figured she'd never have to see us again.”

“Well, we
will
see her again. We're playing Pinewood again in two weeks,” Coach Flores said, frowning. “Wait—What? Who was calling you losers?”

We all exchanged worried glances. The guys on the soccer team were total jerks, but we didn't want to rat them out.

“Nobody,” I said quickly. “It's fine.”

Coach raised her eyebrows, but I could tell she was going to let the matter drop—at least for now.

“Look,” she said. “I can see that nobody's in the mood to practice today. We can cancel. This is all a lot to take in. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me or wants to talk. Don't let this get you down, girls.” She gave us a cheerful smile before heading to her office. The other girls walked back to their lockers to pack up, leaving me, Jessi, Emma, and Zoe alone.

“What did Coach mean when she said we're playing Pinewood again in two weeks?” I asked.

“There aren't enough teams in the league to fill the season, so we play some teams twice,” Emma explained. “I think they do it by lottery or something.”