Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters (5 page)

Wait a sec. Did Cantwell say Lexi
BRADLEY
? As in
Jemma
Bradley?!

Surely it’s a coincidence.

“All right, count off for scrimmage!” the coach hollers, and Julie is suddenly looming into my field of vision.

“Snap out of it, freshman! Don’t want
your
team starting without you, do you?” she sneers. Well, great. So much for the proverbial white flag.

As I scramble to my feet, I overhear Lexi saying, “Yeah, she’s my cousin. I guess it’s kind of like I’m taking her place, right?”

Cue adorable giggle.

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!

6

It only takes a single day for me to realize that Lexi is way too busy being admired to even notice me shooting her death-ray looks across every hallway and classroom. She has a lot on her plate, after all, what with crossing and uncrossing her endless legs in their $250 jeans, giggling, and flipping her perfect, evil, cascading blond locks.

Not that I’m spending all my time watching Lexi. Most of the time I watch Jordan Rothman watching her. Day by day, my meticulously imagined future with him slips away from me like a helium balloon on a windy day.

At lunch on Wednesday, Em says to me, “Kels, you should give Lexi a chance. I mean, she’s in my math class and she’s actually
really
nice. Besides, you don’t know that Jordan is interested in her. Or that she even likes
him
! Maybe he’s just trying to figure out the best way to ask you out and it’s taking a while to, you know …”

“Well, Kels, you’d better get in there,” JoJo interrupts. “Lexi is
hot
.”

Cass, Em, and I exchange a look around the table. JoJo looks up from her hummus and avocado sandwich when we don’t say anything. “What? Well, she is.”

“She is definitely hot,” I agree. “It just doesn’t seem
fair
. No one our age should look that good! I bet she’s a narc.”

I will admit (reluctantly) that Lexi really
is
a good soccer player, so she didn’t get on the team just for being gorgeous and popular. And she’s a forward, so at least I’ve kept my position—for now. I’m still hoping I’ll get to be in the starting lineup, but with the first game coming up in no time at all, you never know what could happen.

As we leave the caf, Em and JoJo are walking ahead of me and Cassidy. I lean toward Cass and whisper, “Should we just ask JoJo if she’s into girls? I mean, she’s so open about everything usually … it’s freaking me out that she hasn’t talked to us about this at
all
.”

Cass whispers back, “Maybe she’s testing us to see what we’ll say or something?” She shrugs. “I dunno, Kels. Maybe she isn’t sure yet? I don’t want to make her feel pressured to, like, come out or something, you know? But then she talks about how hot some girl is and I don’t know what to say! Maybe we
should
ask her? But what if she isn’t and then we make her feel weird because we thought … ugh. I don’t know.”

I feel bad talking behind JoJo’s back—literally—but I really want to figure this thing out. The three of us have been having the same conversation for months now, but we haven’t actually said anything because we don’t want to screw it up and make JoJo feel uncomfortable. I mean, JoJo is our
bestie.
She could talk to us about anything and we’d be there for her, but she isn’t talking to us about maybe being gay at
all
—except for the random comments. I hate thinking she’s worried we won’t understand or something … but like Cass said, I don’t want to push her if she isn’t ready.

“Me neither. So, better to wait, then, right? Oh—there’s the bell.” I wave to Em and JoJo and head down the hall to class.

On Friday, practice is canceled because of rain. The fields are a muddy mess, and the guys’ team takes over the gym. I’m sort of hoping we get assigned to watch and cheer them on. Jordan face time is always a bonus, and I haven’t exactly been hanging out with him this year as I planned (gazing at him longingly doesn’t count), but Coach Cantwell tells us to take the day off.

I go to meet Em by her locker and am intercepted by Keith Mayhew, my number one fan. Since school started, he has displayed an uncanny ability to pop up whenever I’m by myself or to corner me after any class we have together. I guess it should be flattering … but it’s actually kind of creepy.

It’s not that there’s anything so wrong with Keith—well, his eyes are sort of uneven. Okay, okay—I’m being shallow and ridiculous. Keith is nice and kind of funny and a good guy in general. Maybe it’s because he’s always been so obvious about liking me? No. It’s more like … I dunno. He’s no Jordan Rothman—let’s leave it at that.

“Hey, Kels, where’re you heading?” he starts, sidling up next to me. “It’s really coming down out there, y’know? Hope you’ve got an umbrella. You want me to lend you one? I’ve got an extra in my locker, y’know, because my mom told me—”

“Thanks, Keith,” I say, trying to be pleasant yet escape at the same time. “I’m actually meeting Em and she’s got one, so I’m all set. But see you later!” I dash off and grab Em, who is waiting for me in front of her locker and texting James. We decide to detour to Antonio’s Pizza, which is the unofficial after-school hangout.

Off we trudge through the pouring rain, both of us huddling under Em’s giant golf umbrella and trying not to fall into any puddles. Of course, by the time we make it inside, I look like a drowned rat anyway.

I get a slice, fill up my cup with Dr Pepper, and look for a table. I spot Ana sitting with Lexi and some other girls from the team, and then Lexi calls out, “Hey, Kelsey! Over here!” and flashes her giant smile right at me.

This is sort of surprising, since I’ve said about three words to her since she arrived. (None of which were the ones I
wanted
to say, namely, “Go back to where you came from, and take your evil Bradley-ness with you!”) Maybe she’s just excited because her beauty will be even further showcased by sitting next to me in my current incarnation as a mud creature?

Em gives me a look, like,
See? She’s nice!

Whatever.

As we dig in, Lexi asks, “Hey, Em, can you believe how much work Dr. Shanman gave us for Monday? Some of us have lives, you know?”

“I know—I was hoping to maybe visit my boyfriend this weekend,” Em sighs, blushing on the word
boyfriend
as usual, “but I’ve got a paper and so much other stuff …”

“Oh, you were gonna visit James? That’s awesome! I mean, sucks to cancel, but—”

Um, what? How does Lexi know about James? What is going on in this math class, exactly? I’m about to say something like, “So, have you made out with my future husband Jordan Rothman lately?” when I feel a sharp tap on my shoulder. I turn my head and am greeted by a horrible sight: Julie Nelson, looming in all her scariness directly above me.

“Hey, Julie, what’s up?” I say, trying for nonchalance.

“Hey, guys,” she greets the rest of the table. “I just need to borrow Kelsey for a sec, ‘kay?”

I shoot Em a look of despair—
don’t let me be borrowed by Julie Nelson!
—and push back my chair. Lexi continues yammering on about Em and James, which I guess makes sense. I mean, it’s not like I can give Em any good advice about boys, seeing as the only ones I come into direct contact with are either unappealing (Zifner, Mayhew) or ignoring me (everyone else).

I trudge behind Julie to a table in the corner, sit down, and watch her blot pizza with a napkin for about a lifetime. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out to see a lovely text from my mother about dishes in the sink and how she’s not my maid.
Thanks, Verizon,
I think,
for making your phones so user-friendly that even the elderly can send text messages.
I put the phone on the table and weigh the pros and cons of dramatically clearing my throat to get Julie’s attention. (Cons win. I sit in silence, waiting.)

Finally, Julie glares at me haughtily and announces, “Well, Kelsey, I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is that Katie Stolting broke her ankle last night and she can’t play for the rest of the season. But the good news is that I think you’re the
perfect
person to replace her, especially since you’re sooooo excited about
your
team and all. I suggested it to Coach Cantwell, and she said that it was absolutely the best possible idea.”

She takes a huge bite of pizza, gulps it down, and looks at me with a nefarious gleam in her eye. “No need to thank me. Your obvious excitement is thanks enough.” She smirks at me for a second, then her face hardens back into its usual glare. “You can go away now.”

I sit there, still stunned. Julie growls, “I
said
go back to your little pals.
My
friends sit at this table, freshman.”

I manage to push my chair back and stand up. I’m about two steps away from the table when she calls my name again. I turn back to see what else she could possibly have to add.

“I forgot to say congrats,” Julie purrs, smiling spitefully,
“GOALIE.”

7

I continue my slow march back to my table. Katie’s a junior, like Julie, and got stuck on the JV team because she’s one of only three people who plays the position almost no one ever wants to play: goalie. And now I’m supposed to take over? How could Katie break her ankle at night in her own house, I’d like to know? Was she practicing Irish dancing on the stairs or something? Why is she such a klutz??

I suddenly realize that if I don’t leave Antonio’s immediately, I’m going to start crying. Which is so not like me, but I can feel a stinging behind my eyes and my throat starting to close up.

Em is looking at me across the pizzeria like,
What’s going on?
I take a deep breath and go back to my original table to get my backpack. Lexi, who has somehow managed to eat all of her pizza without getting a single drop of grease or sauce on her white T-shirt, asks, “Kelsey, what happened? You look awful!”

Well, that certainly makes me feel less like crying. This just gets better and better.

I smile as best as I can and say, “Oh, you know, the dragon lady just needed someone to sharpen her claws on.”

A few of the girls laugh, but Em looks concerned and starts to get up. “What happened? Do you want me to—”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna head out, so I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?” Em can always tell when I want to be alone, and she sits back down. I grab my bag and walk as quickly as I can to the door. When I get outside, I start to run, because the tears are definitely coming. Of course it’s not even drizzling anymore, so I can’t let them out and pretend it’s just rain. But I don’t want anyone—especially Julie or Lexi—to see me cry over a stupid thing like being goalie.

This is the cruelest thing Julie could’ve done to me—force me to spend every game stuck inside the net, trying not to get smashed by goal shots whizzing toward me, cloaked in the stench of sweaty (and in this case, used) goalie armor. I don’t know how to guard the goal! And forget reeling in Jordan Rothman or anyone else on the guys’ team—they’ll think I weigh three hundred pounds and have a sweat-gland disorder. I’ll probably develop a chronic case of backne. Or have my face caved in by a rogue ball. Then I’ll have to get complete reconstructive surgery, end up looking like Mickey Rourke, and no one will know I’m on the team at all.

Why does Julie hate me so much? Is this really all because of one stupid comment in the cafeteria when I was actually trying to be
nice
?

I run all the way to the subway station, swipe my MetroCard, and by the time I’m on the train I’ve pulled myself together again. Well, except for the fact that my life is ruined. But other than that small detail, I’m fine.

What are the chances someone else will suddenly volunteer to be goalie? Like, ten percent, maybe?

Sigh.

8

I get home and am still so keyed up that I can’t sit to do my homework or watch TV or anything. Dad is making a scary meat marinade in the kitchen and Mom is staying late at work, so I decide to be a caring big sister and see what Travis is up to in her room.

I find her hunkered over the family laptop; before I have a chance to see if she’s making a Justin Bieber fan page or what, she sticks her tongue out at me and kicks the door shut in my face.

Well, that’s lovely.

You know, sometimes it’s like Travis and I live on different planets or something. Until I was about eleven, we used to have a blast together having sleepovers in each other’s rooms, making cookie dough and eating it instead of baking it, hiding our parents’ pillows in random places around the house. Dumb stuff, but still really fun at the time. Now we barely talk anymore unless she’s barging into my room or whining about something. I don’t know what she has to complain about, since pretty much everything goes her way all the time. Her only challenge in life is learning her multiplication tables, for crying out loud. And she slams the door in
my
face? Incredible.

I reach for my phone to call Cass, who I know will cheer me up by going off on how wretched Julie is … but it’s not in my pocket. I search my backpack and come up with nothing. What the eff? Then I suddenly realize I left it on the table at the pizzeria.
Crap.
Luckily it’s locked—like I’d really leave even a
chance
for someone to read my texts—but this means I have to turn around and go all the way back to Antonio’s.

I contemplate leaving it till the morning and running in before classes start, but if someone takes it, my parents will kill me and say I’m not responsible and that I can’t have another one. Then if I say,
What about safety?
they might give me one of those lame walkie-talkie things that Travis has, and then I will have to heave myself into a sewer to avoid being permanently ostracized at school. So I have no choice but to go now.

I yell to Dad that I’ll be back in half an hour and walk three blocks back to the Seventh Avenue station to wait for the Manhattan-bound F train. I sit on a wooden bench and open my English book—
The Scarlet Letter
—to the dog-eared page and get about a paragraph in when I hear my name being called. I look up and see a guy across the platform waving at me.