Win or Lose (2 page)

I felt my shoulders slump as I walked to the parking lot. My best friends believed me, but it was pretty obvious my other teammates didn't.

Mom noticed my face as soon as I climbed into the seat next to her.

“Devin, what's wrong?” she asked.

I put a copy of the newspaper on her lap. “Remember that reporter who came last week? Well, she misquoted me, and now everyone's mad at me.” I explained to her about what it said in the article.

Mom frowned. “That's terrible, Devin. As soon as we get home, we'll contact the newspaper and ask for a correction.”

“But you
are
the best on the team,” my little sister Maisie piped up from the backseat.

I sighed. “Thanks, Maisie. But that's not really true. We've got a lot of strong players. The whole point is that we won because we're a strong team. That's what I was trying to say.”

“I'm sure your teammates will understand it, once they've
had time to think about it,” Mom said, but I wasn't so sure.

When we got to the house, Mom turned on the laptop that was in our kitchen, and we looked up the newspaper. It was too late to call, but there was a link to e-mail Cassidy Vale.

“Do you want me to write this?” Mom asked, but I shook my head.

“No, I got this,” I told her. I sat down at the table and started to type. I'd been thinking of what I wanted to say during the whole ride home.

Dear Ms. Vale,

Please make a correction to the article you wrote about the Kentville Kangaroos. I never said, “I don't know where my team would be without me.” I said, “I don't know where I would be without my team.” My teammates are upset, so please make the correction.

Thanks,

Devin Burke

I felt relieved when I hit send. Problem solved, right? Feeling better, I clicked on my MyBook page. Taylor had made a post right at the top of my page:

You're not here, Devin, so I don't know where I am! :-p

I felt that rock in my stomach again. I thought about typing something in response, but I just deleted Taylor's post instead. Then I sent her a private message.

Taylor, you have to believe me! I never said that. I e-mailed the reporter, and the paper is going to run a correction.

I sent the message, and then I checked to see if Taylor was online. She was, and I figured she'd respond right away, but she didn't. Then I noticed that some of my seventh-grade soccer friends were online: Brianna, Sarah, and Anna. I hadn't gotten a chance to talk to them after practice, and I wanted to know if they were mad too. So I started a chat.

Wanted to say I'm sorry about that newspaper article. I would never say anything like that. The reporter got it wrong. I hope you're not mad.

A reply from Brianna popped up quickly:
That didn't sound like you.

Then Sarah joined in:
Not mad!

Then Anna:
Not mad ethr. But 8th graders are talking.

Thanks
, I replied.
I know.

“Devin, can you please shut down the laptop and set the table?” Mom asked.

“Sure,” I said. I didn't have the heart to stay online anyway. I had a feeling that things might get worse.

The next day was gloomy and rainy, which was not something I was used to seeing in Southern California. It was almost always sunny. But at least the weather matched my mood.

“I wonder if we'll have practice today,” I said as I pushed around my salad with my fork. Usually I ate lunch outside with my friends in the library courtyard, but because of the rain we were sitting inside the noisy cafeteria instead.

“I doubt it,” Jessi said. She was busy pulling the crust off the tuna sandwich her mom had packed for her.

I usually hated having to miss a practice, but today I felt almost relieved. I knew a bunch of the eighth graders were still mad about yesterday's newspaper article.

I let out a big sigh. Emma noticed. “What's wrong, Devin?” she asked as she looked up from her orange-and-pink bento box. It was a lunch box with little compartments inside to keep the food separate.

“It's the eighth graders,” I began, and then I explained about what Taylor had written on my wall.

Jessi's jaw dropped. “Rude!”

“I took it down right away,” I said. “And I private messaged her, trying again to explain what really happened. But she wouldn't answer me. I don't get it. My seventh-grade friends believe me. I don't know why the eighth graders won't!” I pushed my salad away and plunked my head down onto the table, miserable.

“They'll get over it,” Jessi said confidently. “Don't worry.”

“I hope you're right,” I
mumbled, my forehead still resting on the table.

“Just give them a couple of days,” Emma said. “It will blow over.”

Emma was right. I just needed to be patient. Everything would go back to normal. After all, we were a team. I lifted my head up and began to eat some of the crispy chicken salad I had gotten from the cafeteria, feeling a little bit better. I'd been so distracted this morning that I'd forgotten my lunch.

“I, for one, will be glad if practice gets canceled,” Zoe said as she took out a huge binder from her book bag. Bits of colored papers and ribbons were hanging out of it.

“Whoa!” Jessi cried. “That binder looks like it ate all of my notebooks for breakfast!”

Frida had been busy writing in her own notebook, doing some last-minute homework. Her eyes grew wide as she hugged her notebook to her, pretending to be scared of Zoe's binder. “Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you,” she whispered to her notebook, and we all cracked up.

“It's my party planning book,” Zoe said defensively. “Remember? For my bat mitzvah? I've got lots to do, so if we don't have practice today, I'll use the extra time to finalize some of my plans.”

For a second we all had blank looks on our faces.

“Don't tell me you forgot!” Zoe shrieked. “We're all supposed to go look for dresses tomorrow!”

Jessi and I exchanged glances. With all the excitement
of making play-offs, and then the newspaper article yesterday, I had completely forgotten all about dress shopping with Zoe. I could tell from the grimace on Jessi's face that she hadn't remembered either.

“Of course we didn't forget, Zoe.” Emma shot us a warning glance as she said this. “It's just been hectic with play-offs and everything.”

Zoe sighed. “Tell me about it. I never would have guessed in a million years at the start of the season that the Kicks would be in the play-offs. I thought I'd have plenty of time to plan the party. It has to be perfect, just like all of my sisters' bat mitzvahs were.”

Zoe was the youngest of four sisters. You could totally tell they were related, because they looked so much alike. They were all petite with the same strawberry-blond hair, and all of them, Zoe included, dressed like they'd just stepped out of a magazine. Today Zoe was wearing a pink-and-white striped top under a floral print blazer. Since Zoe put such care and attention into what she wore every day, I wasn't surprised that she'd put that same effort into planning her party.

“You know I'm super-excited about your bat mitzvah, Zoe,” I told her. “I've never been to one before!”

When Zoe had invited me, she'd explained that a bat mitzvah was a Jewish religious ceremony. “When a girl turns thirteen, she is considered an adult under Jewish law,” Zoe had told me. “There's a ceremony first, and then a huge party to celebrate!”

Zoe smiled now. “I'm glad you feel that way, Devin. Because I was looking at the play-off schedule, and if we keep winning, my bat mitzvah will be on the same day as a play-off game.”

“Oh, no!” I cried before I even had a chance to stop myself.

Zoe's face fell. “There is no way I could have known the Kicks would even have a shot at play-offs when we set the date,” she mumbled.

“Of course,” Jessi said. “None of us did. But doesn't your ceremony start at four? Our games are almost always in the mornings. Even if we have a play-off game, we should all be able to make it, no problem.”

Zoe looked sad. “Yeah, but then I'll be in a big rush to get home from the game to get ready. It sounds really stressful to me. I've been looking forward to my bat mitzvah for years. I want to be able to focus on it completely, not have to worry about play-offs, too.”

“Come on.” Emma nudged her with her elbow. “We're Super Girls! We can do it all! We can have it all!”

Zoe giggled. “I guess.”

“And we'll have fun tomorrow dress shopping.” Emma was basically the cheerleader of our group. She always knew how to make people feel better.

Uh-oh. Something just occurred to me. If Emma was the cheerleader of our group, what did that make me? Because I was about to burst Zoe's bubble.

“But there is a problem,” I said slowly. “We've got
practice tomorrow. The practice schedule changed so we could get an extra one in before our play-off game against the Tigers this Saturday. Remember?”

Zoe's face fell.

“Can't we just go after practice is over?” Emma asked.

Zoe wrinkled her nose. “No way am I trying on dresses all sweaty and gross from practice.”

Jessi shrugged. “It doesn't bother me.”

“Or me,” Frida added.

“We'll do whatever we can to make this work, Zoe,” Emma said, trying to be helpful.

“Then let's all skip practice,” Zoe suggested. “We can go straight to Debi's Discount Dresses after school.”

Jessi, Emma, and Frida looked as worried as I felt. With our first play-off game coming up in a few days, we needed all the practice we could get.

“Um, Zoe,” I began. “If practice gets canceled today because of the rain, and if we miss tomorrow's practice, that gives us only Friday. We need to get as much practice time in as we can before our game on Saturday. It's really important.”

“I don't think you understand how important my bat mitzvah is to me,” Zoe shot back. Usually Zoe was pretty mellow, but right now she looked upset.