Tales from the Field: Mac’s Ultimate Prank by Katie L. Carroll

Central High women’s soccer team: schooling the boys’ team on the field since 2012. Now it’s time to school them off the field.

I mute the music and kill the lights on my mom’s SUV, packed full of my teammates, as we approach our rival school, Valley High. The speedometer hovers below 20 mph. A block away from the school, I park behind a beat-up sedan, also packed full of soccer players.

Malcolm, the captain of the boys’ team (yes, I said boys, not men…because no high school guy is actually a man), leans against his car, his dreadlocks peeking out from under a black winter hat. We’re all dressed in black to blend in with the October night. Megan and I slip out of the SUV to talk strategy with him.

“Mac. Megan,” he whispers in greeting, his breath puffing in the cold air. We’re not close enough to the school to be heard by anyone there, but we’re not taking any chances of talking loudly and disturbing the neighborhood. “You ladies ready for this?”

“We were born ready,” I say before Megan can answer. She’s our captain and the boss on the soccer field, but I’m in charge tonight.

The thing is every year the Central High women’s soccer team has a better record than the boys’ team. And it goes without saying (though I’m going to say it) that we look a helluva lot better out on the field than they do.

But there is one thing the boys’ team is better at than us: they always pull the best Dog Day Eve prank. So this year (my senior—and final—year), I’m determined to one up them by stealing Benji the Bulldog, Valley’s mascot. And I’ve come up with a brilliant plan.

It’s a brilliant because there’s little fear of retaliation. Our mascot is also a dog (a husky), but unlike Valley’s bulldog, our husky isn’t real. The dog is a costume worn by the gym teacher. (It used to be worn by a student until two years ago when there was an unfortunate incident with a bare bottom underneath said costume. Both hilarious and gross!)

From my pocket, I pull out a drawing of the school and a flashlight. I point to the bus drop-off circle. “This is where we park. It’s easy in/easy out. They keep Benji in the janitor’s office until the night janitor takes him home around ten p.m. I’ve got dog treats to keep him quiet.” I add as an afterthought, “For the dog, not the janitor.”

Malcolm stifles a laugh. “How many are going in?”

“Four of us. Me, Megan, you, and whoever you want to take.”

“Jimmy’s my wingman.”

I make a snap decision. “Okay. The four of us will take your car up to the circle. Everyone else can wait here.” My mom will kill me if I get dog hair (or worse) all over her SUV.

Malcolm ducks his head into window and in true clown-car fashion an impossible number of boys file out of the tiny sedan. I tell them they’re not going to fit in my car and they can wait outside.

While Malcolm chats up Addison (who we all call Hunter) in my front seat, I flip my car keys to Denise (my best friend), who is squished into the very back with Sadie and Paloma. “You’re in charge until I get back. No boys allowed inside.”

She ducks low and makes her way to the front. “Got it.”

I let Malcolm drive up to the school (only because it’s a stick and I don’t know how to drive one) and we park at the end of the drop-off circle for a quick getaway.

I’m about to get out, when from the backseat Megan locks my shoulder in a death-grip. “Wait, MacKenzie. You never told me how we’re supposed to get in. It’s after hours, way after hours. All the doors are locked. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.”

Before she can spiral further into panic (any sense of unpreparedness makes Megan slightly crazy), I pry her hand away. “I’ve got it under control. My cousin’s boyfriend goes to Valley. He spilled a bunch of chemicals in the photo lab and convinced the teacher to leave a window open to air it out.”

Next to Megan, Jimmy lets out a long whistle, clearly impressed by my prank skills. He has no idea how long I’ve been planning this.

“Let’s do this,” I say, and then we’re out of the car and creeping around the school to the photo lab’s, which is in fact cracked open (I barely refrain from shouting with joy that my boyfriend’s cousin has come through for me).

Between the hushed whispers and the squeak of the window being pushed farther open, we’re making way more noise than we should. I make another executive decision.

“Only two of us go in. The other two wait outside and stand watch.” I didn’t want the boys involved at all (so they can’t try and steal all the credit for the prank), but no one on my team could take Benji overnight and Malcolm agreed to do it.

“Me,” Megan says. “I’ll go with Mac.”

“No way,” Malcolm argues. “It should be me. I’m the one housing the dog tonight.”

Before a real argument breaks out and blows up my whole plan, I shush them. “Malcolm comes. Megan and Jimmy wait outside.” Maybe I should have been captain of the team (not really, too much responsibility).

Amazingly we sneak down several hallways to the janitor’s office and find it empty except for Benji. I slip a couple of dog treats to him and open the dog crate. I swear he smiles (though bulldogs always kind of look like they’re grinning) and attempts a leap with his stubby legs. But he’s quiet.

Malcolm grabs him around the middle and we take off in a jog back to the photo lab. That’s when all hell breaks loose! As Malcolm is passing Benji through the open window Jimmy, the dog starts barking, and barking, and barking. Benji squiggles in Jimmy’s arms, and Jimmy swears, loudly.

We sprint toward the car, but by the time we reach the front of the school, lights are turning on inside. Jimmy practically throws the still-barking Benji into the car and we all pile in. Malcolm guns it out of the driveway.

Megan screams, “Slow down! We’ll get caught. We’ve gotta look inconspicuous.”

Malcolm decelerates the car to a normal speed. I stuff the last remaining treats into Benji’s mouth, and he finally calms down.

A squad car rushes past, no lights or sirens (but definitely in a hurry). Malcolm puts his blinker on to turn down the street where we left everyone else, but I direct him to head to the mall. I’ve resigned myself to letting all those boys into my mom’s SUV and text Denise to meet us there. (No way am I staying so close to Valley High with the contraband.)

At the mall, the guys and Benji head off with Malcolm and I start the long process of taking all my teammates home. My hands are still shaking with adrenaline as I take the wheel.

Megan recounts what happened and the atmosphere in the car is giddy with the excitement that we pulled of such a great prank. Swallowing back the lump of nerves in my throat, I join the celebration by blasting loud, brain-cell killing music. 

At home, I crash hard and wake up late. All day I can’t shake the butterflies wrecking havoc on my system. I tell myself that I’m just excited about the final phase of the prank tonight at half-time of the football game.

I pick up Denise and Megan and we head to our school for the football game (the football players never come to our games so we make of point of not attending theirs, but we have a special reason for attending tonight).

We sit with a bunch of our teammates and players from the boys’ team. Megan has forbidden anyone from talking about what we did last night. Those of us who were part of the prank keep shooting glances at each other. The high-fiving and giggling are rampant. Malcolm gives me a nod and heads out of the stands. It's almost time!

The half-time whistle blows and the anticipation in our section of the stands is palpable. Before the cheerleaders can take the field for their annual mid-game exhibition, a tennis ball is thrown at the 50-yard line (I bribed a freshman to do this without knowing why she was doing it). Benji (strategically released by Malcolm from the cover of the trees on the far end of the field), dressed in Central’s red and white colors, trots to the ball.

A cry of fury breaks out in the Valley stands as they realize the dog is their mascot. Our fans whoop and holler with glee. One of Valley’s cheerleading coaches scoops up Benji and stands in the middle of the field as if waiting for instructions on what to do. I think my sides are going to split I’m laughing so hard.

I bask in the triumph of a well-executed prank for one full minute before a heavy hand falls on my shoulder. All those butterflies that have been hanging in my stomach threaten to come out of my mouth.

I look up to find the vice principle staring down at me, her mouth closed in a harsh line of anger. Her other hand is pressed firmly to Megan’s shoulder. Megan sends daggers my way (she might be angrier than the vice principle). The boys’ soccer coach is already escorting Jimmy down the stands.

“You two need to come with me,” the vice principle says.

Best prank of all-time: accomplished. Punishment for my crimes: to be determined (but all signs point to something severe). Maybe I should have left the pranking up to the boys’ team this year.

***

Check out the other Tales From the Field here! 

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, speaker, and soccer player. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.

Tales from the Field: Paloma’s Night Out by Katie L. Carroll

Two rival schools plus two dog mascots equals one crazy prank night.

“Paloma!” My name echoes off the lockers and down the nearly empty hallway. My teammate Sadie catches up to me and hooks her arm into mine. “You in for Dog Day Eve?”

“Huh?” I say. English may be my second language, but I’m pretty sure Sadie isn’t speaking it right now, or maybe she’s referring to some American holiday I don’t know about.

“Dog Day Eve,” she repeats, not making any more sense than the first time she said it. “The night before the football game against Valley High.”

“We don’t have a game tomorrow.” Moving to a new country the summer before sophomore year has left my social calendar very light, so I memorized the game and practice schedules after I made the varsity team at Central High School. We’ve already played our rivals, Valley High, and aren’t scheduled to play them again.

“Not futbol,” she corrects me, “American football.”

I suppose I’ll never get used to calling the sport I play soccer and a sport in which the foot is hardly used football.

“Yes, of course, football.” I’m careful to adjust my pronunciation of the last word. “Why does that involve a dog?” The term “pigskin” gave me some confusion the first time I watched a football game until someone told me it referred to the ball, so perhaps there is some kind of dog term in the game as well.

She giggles and arm-in-arm pulls me down the hallway toward her locker.

“It doesn’t. Well, it might this year.” A mischievous grin lights up her face as she looks sideways at me. “The day of the Central/Valley game is called Dog Day. You know, because we’re the huskies and they’re the bulldogs,” she explains because clearly I don’t know. “It’s a tradition the night before the big football game to pull a prank on Valley, and they always pull one on us.”

We stop at her locker and she quickly spins the dial and opens it. School has been out for hours, but after practice I had to come back to my locker for a book. I guess Sadie forgot something, too.

“So this year Megan and Malcolm,” she looks over at me and adds, “he’s the captain of the guys’ team, the soccer team, not football.” I’m from Spain, not stupid, but given my earlier confusion, I forgive her for over-explaining in this case. “Anyway, they decided we’re going to pull the best prank ever on Valley High.”

My eyes widen. “What are you going to do?” That doesn't sound anything like what my friends and I would do for fun back home.

For a moment, I’m lost in a memory from about a month before we moved. I was riding the metro with my friends to the stadium to watch FC Barcelona play. We were munching on strawberry-flavored candy and laughing—I remember lots of laughing, but not much about the match.

“We,” Sadie interrupts my thoughts. Her locker is shut and a black jacket is draped across her arm. “You’re coming, right?”

“I don’t know.” I’m eager for a night out that doesn’t involve a long dinner with my parents. I don’t think my father will give me a ride anywhere tonight, and my mother doesn’t have a license—she didn’t need one when we lived in Barcelona.

“Mac’s got room in her car. We’ll come and get you. Be ready by seven.”

Pranking sounds fun but possibly dangerous, and certainly not an activity my father would approve of. “I’m not sure my parents will let me.”

“Tell them it’s a team thing. Trust me, this is going to be epic. You don’t want to miss it.” I nod hesitantly. She checks her phone. “I gotta run.” Heading down the hallway, she yells over her shoulder, “Make sure to wear black!”

A couple of hours later, I’m in the living room with my parents, all of us anxiously awaiting the arrival of my teammates. My mom sits on the edge of the couch, and my dad stands at the big front window, staring out into the night.

I’m clad in black jeans and my FC Barcelona jersey. To avoid raising my parents’ suspicions, I keep my black hooded sweatshirt on my lap, ready to be zipped over the bright shirt once I leave. On my feet are my indoor soccer shoes, which I hate to wear outside, but they’re the only black shoes I own besides my boots—cleats here in America.

My mother glances at the clock. “They’re late.” It’s 7:05 p.m., but being even a minute late is rude according to her.

“They’ll be here.” I hope.

It’s silent except for the tick-tock of the antique clock my mom brought on her carry-on, not trusting anyone else to transport the family heirloom and relic from pre World War II. The honk of a horn sounds outside.

I hop out of my seat and stand beside my dad to look out the window. A black SUV sits at the curb, and I recognize it as Mac’s mom’s car. “That’s them,” I say to him.

“They’re not coming to the door,” he says like he can’t believe it. “I don’t like this, Paloma.”

Of all my friends back in Spain, I had the strictest parents, but they’ve lightened up slightly since moving me across the world.

“They don’t do that here. Please,” I beg, “just let me go. They’re my teammates. You know them.”

He looks to my mother, who waves her hand and says, “Let her go. I suppose we’ll have to get used to this.”

“You may go,” he relents. “But don’t forget your toque de queda.”

“I won’t forget my curfew,” I say. “Ten o’ clock.”

I run out the front door before he changes his mind. The SUV is packed. Mac, of course, is driving, and Addison Hunter, who has a broken ankle, is in the front passenger seat. Megan and our goalie Olivia take up the middle seats. I squeeze into the very back with Sadie and Denise, a fellow defender for the team.

My parents’ stern figures are silhouetted in the window as Mac squeals away from the house. I swallow and quickly buckle my seatbelt. She turns up the music, a night-club type base rumbling through the car.

“Where are we going?” I yell to Sadie.

She bounces her head to the music, a crazy grin on her face. “Valley High!” She pumps a fist in the air.

“Why?” I ask.

Megan turns in her seat. “We’re kidnapping Benji the Bulldog!”

Mac drives onto the entrance ramp and guns it up to the highway. Back pressed against the leather seat, a chill of excitement shoots through me. Like Sadie said, Dog Day Eve is going to be epic!

***

Don't miss all of Central High women's Tales From the Field here! 

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, and soccer player. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.

Tales From the Field: Olivia's Redemption by Katie L. Carroll

(See part 1 of this story “Olivia’s Camp Fail” here.)

To free yourself from guilt you must forgive yourself.

The game is about to start. The strategizing, the pep talks, the warm-ups are done. My stomach is a pit of tingling nerves, the good kind, the ones that keep my reflexes sharp. I let out a long exhale, my breath smoking in the cool evening air. Our undefeated season is on the line tonight.

My ten teammates line up in front of me, their white home uniforms bright under the lights. I clap my goalie gloves together and stare down our gold-clad rivals, the Valley High women’s soccer team.

Time to get in the zone.

For some inexplicable reason, I glance into the stands, the side where the Valley fans sit. It takes me right out of the game. Marco. He’s here. I knew he would be, but seeing him is worse than I imagined. The tingling, game-ready nerves turn to anxious, stomach-twisting ones.

Marco, of course surrounded by his entourage of teammates from the Valley High boys’ team, stands down by the fence separating the field from the stands. He faces the crowd, his back to me, thank God. I don’t think I could handle seeing his chipped-tooth smile right now. He’s wearing the blues of the Italian National Team, not the Valley High black and gold. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe our kiss at camp this summer actually meant something to him.

Then I remember him cheering on his schoolmate as she sprinted to the ball, my hesitation, the ball bouncing off her foot and over the goal line. The shame of losing the camp championship for my team, all because of some stupid boy, creeps up my face in a blush.

Megan, the team captain, hisses, “Olivia, you ready?” The referee is waving her hand, trying to get my attention.

Can’t think about Marco right now. The game is about to start!

I wave to let the referee know I’m ready. She signals to the other goalie, who quickly shakes a gloved hand. Everyone is anxious to start the game. I better get my head on straight.

My team came ready to play and quickly takes possession of the ball. Watching them pass and dribble around the other team and listening to the roar of the crowd as Brooke puts a shot on goal that the goalie has to stretch all the way out to save grounds me in the game.

I’m back in the zone.

We take control of the tempo of the game, but the score is 0-0 as the minutes tick closer to the end of the first half. I have yet to be tested when the ball arcs over our defensive line. A Valley forward, the Valley forward who scored the winning goal at camp, darts to the ball. I charge to the top of the 18-yard box and beat her to it.

I boot the ball over the half-line and the referee lets out two short blasts on the whistle to signal the end of the first half.

Like a magnet to metal my gaze zooms toward Marco. He’s staring right at me. The field lights are behind him, so his face is slightly shadowed and unreadable. Though he does lift his hand above the chain-link fence and offers a little wave.

To me? I glance around to see all my teammates are already on the sidelines. I’m the only one still dumbly standing on the field. So, yeah, the tiny wave must be for me.

I shake my head and sprint to the bench before Megan can yell at me again. I yell at myself instead. Head in the game, Olivia!

My teammates greet me with pats on the shoulder and it pops my bubble of distraction.

Sadie, a big grin on her face, shakes my shoulders. “Great grab.” Then so only I can hear, she whispers, “Did you see him?”

I bite the inside of my lower lip and shake my head. I can’t talk about it, not even with her. I’m already struggling to keep the lump in my throat from choking me, and I would totally die of embarrassment if I cried on the soccer field.

Sadie senses my struggle and elbows me in the side. “There’s no crying in soccer, right?”

I nod and suck down some water, listening to Megan’s half-time ramblings. It’s part pep talk, part critique of all the thing we did wrong in the first half, and full-on passionate. No one matches her level of intensity, but we all huddle in and there’s a gleam in each one of my teammate’s eyes.

“No ties today,” Megan says. “We win this one.”

We put our hands in and on three we yell, “Win!”

I jog out to my place in goal, thankful that the switch of sides means Marco and his friends are down the other end where I can’t make out their features.

Valley High comes out strong. They pass the ball past the midfield and get a shot off, but it sails high over the crossbar. “Field goal!” I hear from our side of the crowd, probably someone from our guys’ team mocking the bad shot. It brings a smile of confidence to my face.

Megan shouts at Denise, one of our defenders, for letting her player take the shot. I catch Denise’s gaze and shake my hands to let her know it was no big deal. Even if it had been on goal, no way would I have let a shot from that far go in.

After that we get back into the rhythm of our game. Valley sends a few more shots my way, but nothing I can’t handle. On a goal kick, I send the ball up to Brooke on offense. She passes it back to Haley at midfield, who kicks the ball past Valley’s defense. Tight pressure from Brooke forces the defender to kick the ball out, giving us a corner kick.

Haley curves a beauty of a kick in toward the goal. Mac, the tallest player on our team, charges in and heads the ball. Goal!

“Ten minutes left!” Megan yells to all of us.

Valley’s in panic mode now, frantically kicking the ball around, which allows us to regain possession. We pass it around, the minutes ticking off the clock. Mac dribbles the ball into our offensive corner and plays around with it there, burning more time.

The shrill of three sharp blasts on the whistle ends the game without Valley ever getting the ball back.

Megan jumps up and down, shouting, “We won! We won! We won!”

The team surrounds her, everyone hugging and congratulating Mac for scoring the game winner. Haley gets her share of the accolades for the assist. We won, and I didn’t screw up, but I can’t seem to enjoy the moment. I stand to the side, a haze settling over me. I force a smile and half-heartedly celebrate with the team, doing my best not to show my indifference.

What is wrong with me? Will I ever be free of the guilt from losing my team the camp championship?

As the fans disperse, my teammates and I take off our cleats and shin guards and throw on warmer clothes. A cold, autumn drizzle begins to fall. It fits my sullen mood. Sadie stands over me as I pack up my things.

“You need a ride?” she asks. “My dad’s waiting in the car.”

“Nah.” I shrug. “My mom let me take the van.” It’s a hideous old minivan, but I don’t care so long as it’s something I can drive by myself. I need the alone time right now.

Sadie doesn’t leave. “You okay?”

I look up and try to smile but my lip quivers. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Marco’s an idiot,” she says, which makes me laugh. “No one cares who wins the summer camp championship. And we won this time when it really counts.” She hesitates, like she has something important to tell me, but only says, “See you tomorrow at practice.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I say quietly, but she’s already disappeared into the darkness beyond the lights. The rain has forced everyone to make a quick exit. The stands are empty and I’m the only one left on the field.

I spot my lucky water bottle where I left it by the goal. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I jog over to retrieve it. I’m staring out over the field, unsuccessfully trying to be excited about beating our rivals and keeping our unbeaten streak alive, when a husky voice from behind startles me.

“Good game.” I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Marco. The scent of his cologne reaches me before he does. His shoes squeak on the turf as she walks around the goal to stand in front of me. His hair is especially slick-looking. I squint, the light bouncing off the tiny mist droplets shrouding the field. I can barely breathe with him this close.

Undeterred by my silence, he goes on. “You’re team played well. That was a nice goal on the corner kick.”

I turn to leave, utter, “I have to go.”

He grabs my hand, says, “Wait. Please.” It’s the please that catches me, holds me in place, just like last time. Cocky Marco using manners always catches me by surprise.

“What?” I demand, all attitude. Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me.

“I never got a chance to explain,” he says, which is true. He tried to talk to me that last day of camp, but my teammates protected me, wouldn’t let him get close. “I got caught up in the moment.”

“It’s fine.” My brief moment of bravery is gone, the lump in my throat back. Our kiss was more than getting caught up in a moment for me, but clearly it’s time for me to move on, for real this time. “We shouldn’t have kissed. It was silly.”

“No.” He smiles, never self-conscious of his chipped tooth…or anything really. “I didn’t mean our kiss. The cheering. I got caught up cheering for the team. I didn’t mean to make you miss the save.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Not until I hear him say it, do I realize that all these months since camp, I’ve been hoping it was somehow a misunderstanding. That our night together was special and meaningful.

He nervously rubs the back of his head, and I think maybe I was wrong to think he couldn’t be self-conscious. “Do you want to go out sometime?”

My heart is in my throat, competing with the lump for space. “Like on a date?”

“Yeah. Maybe to a movie…or something.” His normally oversized ego is a deflated balloon as he waits for me to answer.

I take in the scene around me. The field and stands are empty now, but I’m picturing them full and loud as we win the state championship. I need the freedom, the space, to be focused on this one goal. I can’t afford any distractions right now.

“Sure,” I say. “But not until the season is over.”

The balloon is back at full capacity; even a sort-of yes can’t touch his ego. “Great. Can I have your number?”

“No.” His smile falters. “But you can give me yours.” I program his number into my phone.

Before he leaves, he takes my hand. “I’m expecting a call as soon as you win that championship.”

I just shake my head and laugh as he runs off, presumably to brag to his buddies about our future date. As I start up the old minivan engine, I feel more focused than I’ve felt all season. Camp is in the past, and I’m looking forward to play-offs and a run at the championship. And after that, who knows…I think I will call Marco and go on a date. What do I have to lose?

***

Don't miss all of Central High women's Tales From the Field here! 

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, and soccer player. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.

Tales From the Field: Olivia's Camp Fail by Katie L. Carroll

Sometimes the hardest person to forgive is yourself.

The table sags under heaping containers of salad, pasta, and rolls at our pregame party the night before the big match against our cross-town rivals Valley High. But all it takes for me to lose my appetite is one comment from team captain Megan.

“We don’t want a repeat of camp finals.”

The low rumble of conversation and the smack of full mouths immediately ceases as nearly every player on the Central High women’s soccer team looks at me. I lock my gaze on the fat meatball atop a pile of spaghetti covered with tomato sauce, which I’m sure matches the color of my face right now.

“What happened at camp?” asks Brooke. An innocent enough question, if you don’t know what happened this summer—which she doesn’t because freshmen don’t attend camp—but a terribly taboo one if you do know what happened.

Sadie comes to my rescue. “We lost in extra time to those stuck-up Valley girls, but it wasn’t Olivia’s fault.”

Finding the courage to look up from my plate, I smile at Sadie. She’s best friends with Addison Hunter, but we’ve grown a lot tighter since Hunter got hurt during preseason.

“It was my fault.” I’m the first to admit that.

I set my plate down on a TV tray and take in the eyes of all the girls in Denise’s living room. Most of them have looked away by now, but I meet Paloma’s dark brown ones, full with curiosity. She’s a sophomore, but didn’t attend camp because she’s new to the team after moving here from Spain.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says in a soft accent.

“No, you and Brooke should know…” Heat rises up my neck to my face, and beads of sweat form under my sports bra. “It’s just embarrassing, that’s all.”

I take a deep breath and prepare to face not only the worst moment in my soccer career but probably my love life as well. It all started on the first day of our weeklong co-ed camp at the state university campus. As both of Central High’s varsity teams piled off the school bus, I noticed Valley’s bus was right in front of ours. And one of their players was staring right at me.

He had dark brown hair, shiny with gel, and a tan face. A flash of a smile exposed a chipped top tooth, and I remember running my tongue over my own straight, smooth teeth. He wore a jersey of the Italian national team, baggy soccer shorts, and blue socks with white stripes at the top pulled all the way up to his knees. A duffel bag was slung loose over one shoulder.

He looked more like a model trying to be a soccer player than an actual player. You could tell his teammates worshipped him by the way they surrounded him. Most of them had tried to copy his style but none quite pulled it off the way he did. Everything about him screamed arrogance; not my type at all.

Busy with training sessions in the morning and scrimmages in the afternoon, I didn’t really think about him most of the week. But every once in a while in the cafeteria or at the water station, I’d catch him staring at me. I kept hearing his teammates yelling his name across the fields. “Marco, I’m open!” “Marco, check this out!” “Marco! Marco! Marco!”

He was Valley High’s star player and leading goal scorer with an ego the size of Italy—his favorite team, of course. Absolutely not my type. Yet I was fascinated by him, and his seeming fascination of me.

None of this I told Brooke and Paloma. They just needed to know the facts. So I started the story on our last night of camp. We had the evening off in preparation for finals the next morning. The competition had been fierce over the week, but our team and Valley High’s team had risen to the top in the women’s bracket. We would face off with them after the men’s final game, and the whole camp would gather to watch both matches.

Valley’s men’s team had also made it to the finals, largely thanks to spectacular play by none other than Mr. Spectacular Himself Marco. Our men’s team would sadly be watching from the sidelines after losing in the quarterfinals.

Megan called a team strategy session that droned on for forever. When we were finally released, a bunch of us had decided to hang out in the common area of the college.

It was pretty crowded, but Sadie, Hunter, and I managed to find a free love seat by the TV to squeeze into together. We were watching Bend it Like Beckham when Marco and his entourage barreled into the common room. It seemed the whole room paused to take in His Magnificence. I spared him a glance before turning back to the movie.

Like a bee to honey, he zoomed right to the three of us. He perched himself on the arm of the love seat, forcing me to move my arm. I groaned, but he didn’t seem to hear it. An assault of cologne made my eyes water.

“You’re a goalie, right?” he asked.

“Yup.” I kept my gaze glued on the screen.

“Tough bunch, you goalies.” He pinched my arm. “Wanna go for a walk? We could trade victory stories.”

I grabbed my arm and glared up at him. Oh my God, who did this guy think he was? He smiled, showing off the chipped tooth like a badge of honor. Sadie and Hunter exchanged a look and giggled. Hunter, who was closet to me, elbowed me and mouthed, “Go.”

“No way,” I mouthed back.

They collectively pushed me up and out of my spot, practically into Marco’s lap. He took my hand in his, which I was surprised to find was a little sweaty, looked me right in the eyes, and said, “Please.”

I glanced back at my good-for-nothing teammates to find they had spread out to fill in my seat. Sadie raised an eyebrow at me and flicked her hand toward the door. Warmth spread across my face and I figured the fresh air would do me good.

I pulled my hand from Marco’s and muttered, “Fine,” as I headed toward the exit. He followed close behind. We walked around campus in silence for awhile. Finally we ended up on one of the grass practice fields.

Marco tried to take my hand again, but I tucked them under my armpits. He walked to the goal line, bent down, and kissed the white line. Then he lay on his back with his feet in the goal and his head on the field.

He extended his neck to look at me and a patted the goal line next to him before tucking his hands behind his head. “Come on. I'm  not going to kick you. Though I've done that to my fair share of goalies.”

Reluctantly I sat down next to him. There was no way I was laying down next to this guy.

“Being a goal scorer isn’t much different than being a goalie.” His eyes were closed as he quietly talked. “We both spend a lot of time thinking about this line we’re on. You want to keep the ball from crossing it, and I want to push it past. We take lots of risks in our positions. Our teams depend on us. We can make or break a game—a season—with one heroic move…or one mistake.” He stared up at me. “It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it?”

I shrugged, unnerved by his intense honesty. “I guess.” When I play, I try not to think of the pressure, stay in the moment.

“I admire goalies,” he said. “I admire you, the way you play. You’re confident, but not in a showy way. I don’t know how to be like that. If I don’t strut my stuff on and off the field, I don’t have it…the confidence.”

My mouth suddenly turned very dry and I swallowed. “You’re a star with or without the strut.”

He sat and scooted right next to me, shoulder-to-shoulder. We were facing opposite directions but our mouths were lined up perfectly.

“I wish I could be more like you with your natural confidence.” I felt his breath on my lips as he talked. The cologne wasn’t so assaulting out there in the open. He leaned in. Just as our lips touched, a hissing sound filled my ears, and then we were getting soaked. The sprinklers had turned on!

I jumped to my feet and squealed. Marco let out a booming laugh. He took my hand and we ran around the field, jumping in the water like little kids. He walked me back to my dorm. I shivered in the night air and he rubbed the goose bumps off my arms.

Acting like a gentleman, he gave me peck on the cheek. I turned into his lips and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in for a real kiss. After, he smiled, and for the first time, I found his chipped tooth enduring instead of irritating.

“Good luck tomorrow,” he said.

“You too.” I squeezed his hand and headed back to my room.

All of these memories come to me in a moment, but all I say to the girls is that Marco and I went for walk and got to know each other.

“They kissed!” Sadie giggles. I throw a pillow at her, almost knocking her plate of food on the floor.

“Lot of good it did me,” I say as my thoughts turn to the next morning. “They won their final game, Marco and Valley High. Then him and his teammates stayed to watch our game. They cheered for the Valley women’s team, naturally.”

Though Marco was more subdued than I had ever seen him. I had forced myself to focus on the game and thought no more of him.

“We were in extra time, tied 1-1. The Valley center midfielder kicked a ball over our defense. I ran out to get it. One of their forwards was racing towards me. Just before I reached the ball, I heard a familiar shout—“ my voice breaks off. My face burns with mortification.

It was Marco, cheering for her, not me. Not that I ever expected him to cheer for me over his school, but it was a shock to hear him rooting for them so exuberantly.

“What happened?” Brooke’s eyes are wide.

All I say is, “We lost.” What happened was I hesitated. The Valley forward got a foot on the ball and scored. The whistle blew. The game was over. 

“And it wasn’t just Olivia’s fault,” says Sadie, and I love her for coming to my defense. “That player and the ball had to get past the rest of us before they got to you.”

Megan cuts in, “Olivia lost her concentration. That’s what happened. But it won’t happen again, right?”

I shake my head. But I’m not convincing anyone, certainly not myself. I haven’t seen Marco since camp. He tried to talk to me as we waited to board the bus, but I huddled into the cocoon of my teammates.

Marco’s urgent voice reached me from behind their shoulders. “I just want a minute to talk.”

Sadie and Hunter shielded me, wouldn’t let him get close. I was able to avoid him then, but tomorrow I’m sure he’ll be at the game. I don’t know how I’ll react when I see him, and I can’t afford to lose my concentration again.

***

Stay tuned next month to find out how Olivia and the Central High women's team fares against cross-town rivals Valley High! Plus, don't miss all the other Tales From the Field. 

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, and soccer player. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.

Tales from the Field: Haley’s Unbelievable Save by Katie L. Carroll

In matters of life and death, it’s hard to believe that sports matter.

“Haley, pay attention!” Megan, the team captain, shouts. The sound echoes in the small utility room the Central High women’s soccer team uses for our meetings. “It’s important you know where to be when we’re defending a corner kick.”

I try to—really I do—but the X’s and O’s blur on the whiteboard as unshed tears hang in the corner of my eyes. The thought comes, the one I’ve had over and over since my mom died last winter: Why do I bother playing? Sports seem so…unimportant, trivial, pointless. Shouldn’t I be doing something more worthwhile with my precious time on Earth?

When I told my dad I was considering not going out for soccer this year, my senior year, he gave me the old “That’s not what your mother would have wanted” speech. So I tried out and made varsity again.

For the most part, I manage to put aside my ambivalence and give my all during the games, but practices and meetings are tougher. At least no one’s complained about my performance, and I’m leading the team in assists, so there’s that. But that’s just it: I don’t really care if we win or lose.

It’s my commitment to the team that’s gotten me through the season so far…and my dad. He shows up for every game, cheering and smiling from the sidelines. It’s one of the only times I see him smile.

I heave a sigh and rest my head on my hand. Megan’s pre-game strategy session drags on, her voice and the tick of the clock not enough to keep thoughts of my mother at bay. How I would visit her in the hospital when she was in for chemotherapy, reading to her until she fell asleep. The silence in the room when the doctor said the cancer was terminal and recommended stopping treatment. The feel of her limp hand in mine when she took her last breaths. At least she was home with me and my father when she died, like she had wanted.

I look around and no one else seems to notice how warm the room has become. Brooke and Sadie both sit upright, raptly paying attention to Megan. Denise picks her nails and exchanges a look of boredom with Mac, both of them probably figuring they can get away with not paying attention because they’re seniors.

And I’m remembering my mom, not the pink hue of her cheeks when she would come back in from her early morning runs. Nope, all I can picture is the sallow, sunken look of her face right before she died. My chest tightens and it’s hard to breathe, like my insides are filling with molten lead. It’s like this at school, too. I can’t focus in class and my grades have slipped, but the teachers are all cutting me some slack, given my “situation.”

The meeting ends and we head to the locker rooms to change into our uniforms. As I lace up my cleats, I try to force the heaviness from my chest. Pretty soon the noise of the game will drown out my sorrow and I’ll be able to focus on playing.

Once warm-ups are done, I take my place at center midfield and wait for the whistle to blow. I catch my dad’s eye and wave. A wide grin spreads across his face and he waves at me with one hand. His other holds a mini school flag, which is red with a white bulldog on it.

“Go dogs!” he shouts. I can’t help but smile back. His enthusiasm is catching and helps me focus on the game.

The tough match demands all of my attention. The bliss of being lost in the moment overtakes me. We’re locked up 0-0 at half, neither team able to put one into the net. The second half is just as brutal as the first.

Megan is a tornado on the field, screaming directions to the team and doing some of the best defending of her life. Olivia, the goalie, makes a spectacular save to keep the game scoreless. By the 85^th minutes, my body is heavy, but not because of grief; it’s simply the fatigue of a hard fought game.

One of the opposing team’s forwards bends a nasty shot toward Olivia, who just manages to swat it away. The ball bounces off Denise on defense and out of bounds. It’s a corner kick for the other team.

Megan screams, “Remember your positions!”

My heart drops as I think about the strategy session…and my mom. I try to push those thoughts away, but my vision blurs. The aching heaviness of mourning compounds the fatigue of playing. I have no idea where I’m supposed to be, so I stand next to a random opponent and hope the ball doesn’t come my way.

The ball thumps across the field from the corner and soars into the box in front of the goal. I can barely see it though my tears. The player I’m supposed to be covering is several feet away, and I’m dumbly standing on the goal line. She volleys it right for the net. Olivia is too far right to make the save.

Of its own accord, my body dives feet first to the left. I have no recollection of doing it myself, like someone else has taken over my faculties. The ball hits my shin and bounces away before being cleared by Megan.

The referee blows three long toots on the whistle, signaling the end of the game. My teammates crowd around me, while I remain on the ground, stunned over what has just happened. They help me stand and despite the fatigue, a lightness has taken over my body.

Megan squeals in delight, “We’re still undefeated!” Mac, Denise, and Olivia surround me. Brooke pats me on the back and says, “Nice save, Haley.”

I glance into the stands. My dad is hugging the other parents. Then he’s bounding down the stairs and onto the field. He rushes over and wraps me in a hug.

“I think mom was watching,” he whispers into my ear. “She would be so proud.”

I nod into his shoulder and burst into tears. I don’t stay it to my dad, but I think my mom was more than watching. As unbelievable as sounds, I think she helped me make that save.

I watch my dad cheer and celebrate with my teammates and realize that although sports may not cure cancer or stop wars, they are healing in their own way. Like a good book or movie, they let us forget our troubles for a little while and revel in the moment. I guess my mom wanted to remind me of that.

For the first time in a long time, I consider the idea of playing in college…as long as it doesn’t interfere with my studies to become a doctor.

***

Want more from the young women on the Central High School varsity team? Check out these other Tales from the Field: "Captain Megan", "Addison in Love?", and "Lucky Brooke".

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, and soccer player. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.

Tales from the Field: Lucky Brooke by Katie L. Carroll

It’s not luck if you’re always in the right place at the right time.

I angle my run up the field on the diagonal. With one eye on the last defender to keep from being caught offsides and the other on the ball, I bide my time, waiting to burst into full speed. I don’t really think about it as I’m doing it, almost like my brain and body are on autopilot. Years of training make it all happen naturally. I’m in the zone.

My teammate Haley dribbles the ball up the center of the field. She breezes past an opponent, but several more stand between her and the open field.

“Brooke!” she unnecessarily yells my name.

I’m ready and waiting. The ball zooms off her foot in a perfect arc over the last defender. In a full-out sprint, I beat everyone to the ball. Just me and the goalie now.

A shrill blast from the whistle brings me to a halt. Did something happen behind me, a foul off the ball maybe? Nope, the assistant referee is holding up her flag, signaling I’m offsides.

My arms fly up in indignation. “No way!”

The fans, mostly parents but a few students as well, shout their displeasure at the call. Megan, our team captain, runs from the back of the field right up to the main referee. Her face is bright red and her cheeks are puffed out, but she keeps her cool as she talks it over with the ref.

The rest of the team surrounds me because I’m about to “go into beast,” as my Italian grandmother would say of anyone who gets angry. I breathe in and store the anger deep inside to fuel my game instead of my temper. I’m the only freshman on the Central High varsity team, and it would be a very bad idea to get carded and kicked out of our first game of the season.

Megan jogs back to her position as sweeper and the other team takes their free kick. The first half ends a few minutes later, the score 0-0. My feet are almost literally itching to get another chance at scoring.

I pour water over my head and take sip of sports drink, the afternoon sun a scorcher in early September. Coach Walker—a male coach even though we’re a women’s team—gives us a pep talk and sends us back out on the field.

Megan pulls me aside. “Don’t worry about that call.”

“Coach didn’t mention it,” I say.

“Well I am mentioning it. It was total BS and everyone knows it.” She slaps me on the shoulder. “You’ll be ready when the next scoring chance comes. Prove those refs are idiots.”

I nod and internalize the words, more fuel to my fire. Seems the rest of the team is fueled up, too. We thunder down the field, passing seamlessly around our opponents. Haley receives the ball in striking range and lets a shot rip. The goalie knuckles it up and over the crossbar, earning us a corner kick.

Megan had us practice corner kicks last week. I position myself right next to the goalie as she instructed, doing my best to be an annoyance. Mac—as we all call Mackenzie when she’s on the field—sends a beauty of a corner kick right to the sweet spot, far enough out so the goalie doesn’t go for it but close enough for our players to have a good chance at scoring.

Megan, who as a defender probably doesn’t get many chances to score, barrels in and heads Mac’s kick. The goalie saves it but not cleanly. The ball rebounds right into my chest, which by anyone’s standards is pretty flat, and deflects into the back of the net. Goal by breasts! My breasts!

My teammates surround me, squealing with delight. I take off for the corner flag and dive headfirst toward it, my teammates following suit, a move Megan also had us practice. Gotta have a good celebration planned for the first goal of the season.

There’s no time to rest on my laurels—that’s an expression my non-Italian grandmother uses—as the other team is about to kick off. Despite our high from the goal, the rest of the second half passes without us scoring again, but neither does the other team. The game ends 1-0, my goal the one and only, the game winner.

We exchange handshakes with the other team, offering a less-than-heartfelt chant of “good game” down the line and rush back to our bench to celebrate.

Megan slaps me on the back. “See. I told you you’d get another chance and you’d be ready for it. And off my header, too.” I’ve hardly ever seen her smile, but her face is lit up brighter than a tinsel-doused Christmas tree.

Coach Walker calls us in for a huddle and reminds us about practice tomorrow morning. There are a few grumbles about having to get up early on a Saturday, but I’m too keyed up to care.

I’m about to find my parents in the stands when Coach calls for me. “Good team effort on that goal. Lucky you were in the right place at the right time.”

“Lucky?” I shrug. “I have a knack for being in the right place at the right time. Scored a lot of goals that way. I’ve developed a good feel for the game, know how to capitalize on chances like that. Luck’s got nothing to do with it.”

He stares at me, mouth slightly open. No one—not even my coach—is going to diminish this moment for me. I’ve earned it.

***

Want more from the young women on the Central High School varsity team? Check out these other Tales from the Field: "Captain Megan" and "Addison in Love?".

Katie L. Carroll is a mother, writer, editor, and soccer player. She began writing at a very sad time in her life after her 16-year-old sister, Kylene, unexpectedly passed away. Since then writing has taken her to many wonderful places, real and imagined. She wrote her YA fantasy ELIXIR BOUND so Kylene could live on in the pages of a book. Katie is also the author of the picture app THE BEDTIME KNIGHT and a contributor to THE GREAT CT CAPER, a serialized mystery for young readers. She lives not too far from the beach in a small Connecticut city with her husband and sons. For more about Katie, visit her website at www.katielcarroll.com.