It's Not Easy Being Mean Part 7

"If I want to score a goal, where should I stand?"

m.u.f.fled giggles erupted.

The coach glared at Kristen, who had a.s.sured her the girls could hold their own on the field. "You're joking, right?"

Kristen pinched Alicia's elbow.

"Uh, yeah, totally."

Everyone laughed.

The coach shook her head, then continued. "I am going to use today's practice to evaluate our new players, which may mean different positions for some of you, depending on their strengths."

A few girls groaned.

Ma.s.sie glanced at Alicia and Dylan, wondering if this whole thing felt like a dream to them too. They were both biting their nails. Evaluate our new players? Different positions? Strengths? Evaluate our new players? Different positions? Strengths? Did Coach Davis not understand that the closest Ma.s.sie had ever come to playing soccer was the time she'd kicked Livvy Collins's h.e.l.lo Kitty pencil case into the male teachers' bathroom? If this Did Coach Davis not understand that the closest Ma.s.sie had ever come to playing soccer was the time she'd kicked Livvy Collins's h.e.l.lo Kitty pencil case into the male teachers' bathroom? If this was was a dream, Ma.s.sie prayed her clock radio would go off in the next five seconds and JoJo's new song would wake her before any embarra.s.sing evaluating could begin. a dream, Ma.s.sie prayed her clock radio would go off in the next five seconds and JoJo's new song would wake her before any embarra.s.sing evaluating could begin.

Peeking to her right, Ma.s.sie saw Cam sprinting, with five other guys. The sight of him made her instantly resent Claire. How hard could it have been to get invited to his house? What had made her settle on Friday, four whole days away? And why didn't Ma.s.sie just call him herself?

"Um, I have a question." Dylan twirled a red ringlet around her finger. "How many calories are burned during a typical practice?" She crunched down on a bagel chip, emitting a cloud of garlic fumes.

Kristen tugged on her yellow Puma wristband.

"Good question, Miss Marvil," deadpanned the coach.

"Why don't you run across the field five times and we'll see if those shorts of yours don't get a little looser?"

"Actually, it's a skirt," Dylan offered.

"You don't say?" The coach's eyes softened. A now-why-didn't-you-tell-me-that-sooner look replaced her scowl. "Come forward and give us a look."

Dylan threw her hands above her head and twirled.

Kristen chewed the end of her side braid.

"Ma.s.sie? Alicia?" The coach beckoned.

They stepped forward too.

The Sirens whooped and hollered with delight. Ma.s.sie blew them kisses. It felt good to have them back.

"Forget about running across the field," said Coach Davis with a calming grin.

Dylan slapped her heart. "Thank you so mu-"

"See those towels over there by the bench?"

"Uh-oh," Kristen groaned.

"Take off those ridiculous party outfits, cover up in those towels, and then join our drill. Failure to do so in four minutes will result in this entire team sitting out Sunday's game."

Everyone gasped.

You're jealous of our creativity! You're a power-hungry failure! You're just upset you didn't think of glitter numbers first! Ma.s.sie wanted to shout. But the coach beat her to it. Ma.s.sie wanted to shout. But the coach beat her to it.

"Go!" She set the timer on her black Seiko stopwatch.

As long as all eyes were on her, Ma.s.sie had to make whatever she was doing seem like the most fun ever, even if it involved public humiliation and a dew-covered soccer field. So she giggle-jogged all the way to the bench. Thankfully, owing to a lifetime of slipping out of wet bathing suits at the beach, the girls were able to strip under their towels without incident.

"Woo-hooo," Ma.s.sie yelped when her bare feet touched the cold gra.s.s. "Chilllllyyyyy," she shouted, just loud enough for Derrington to hear.

He stepped out of the net and s.h.i.+elded his eyes from the sun.

"Ew!" Alicia giggled. "What are you you looking at?" looking at?"

"A lot!" Derrington held out his hands like a zombie.

The boys high-fived him.

He wiggled his b.u.t.t.

"Two minutes," the coach called.

"Ooops, my towel is slipping," Dylan joked.

The guys whistled.

"Claire is going to be so upset she missed this." Ma.s.sie sc.r.a.ped some navy glitter off her #2 and sprinkled it over her bare collarbone.

"Fifty-three seconds," shouted the coach.

The boys whistled more.

"My dad is so suing for public humiliation." Alicia folded her arms across her chest.

"Why?" Dylan s.h.i.+mmied for the boys and got more whistles. "This is great!"

Ma.s.sie considered racing over to Cam and asking if they could visit sooner, but Coach Davis shouted, "Twenty seconds!" before she had the chance.

"Hurry," their teammates urged.

"SLBRs," Ma.s.sie muttered under her breath.

They scooped up their clothes and padded across the field like starlets at a day spa.

"Make us lose and you're dead," Kori hissed as she zipped past them kicking a ball.

"Impossible. You're already losers," Ma.s.sie snapped.

The coach cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "Grab a ball and start dribbling!"

Dylan shoved one last bagel chip in her mouth, then dropped the crumb-filled bag on the field.

"Hey, Dylan, are you a cat?" asked Ma.s.sie.

"No." She chewed.

"Then what's with the litter?"

Dylan was about to pick up the bag when Kori head-b.u.t.ted a ball toward her stomach. Along came another. Then another.

"Watch it!" Alicia squealed when one skimmed her cheek.

"Oops." Kori raced past them again, her posture so bad it looked like someone had kicked a ball into her stomach.

"Kori, look out!" Jessi shouted.

But it was too late.

The heel of her cleat came down on the Ziploc and she skidded across the field, landing smack on her kneecap.

"Owwwww!" She rocked back and forth cradling her leg.

"They should call those things Slip-locs." Ma.s.sie giggled.

Dylan burst out laughing.

A crowd formed around Kori, and Ma.s.sie knew it was now or never. "Cover me," she whisper-shouted.

"Where are you going?" Alicia whisper-shouted back.

"Cam!"

Ma.s.sie gripped her towel and darted across the field.

It wasn't long before Kori's wailing faded and the sound of boys shouting, "Pa.s.s!" and "Quit hogging!" got louder. So what if she wasn't the MVP? Sprinting to the boys' side, half-nude during practice was sure to earn her a place in the soccer hall of fame.

"Toga party?" asked Cam. Luckily, he was sitting on the sidelines alone, tightening his laces.

"Long story." Ma.s.sie blushed, suddenly feeling ten times more naked without her friends. "Listen, I just wanted to make sure Claire spoke to you about soccer lessons."

"Yeah, Friday night. Right?"

Two guys in matching burgundy shorts and green s.h.i.+rts whizzed past them.

"Right. But as you can see"-she clutched her towel- "we're not doing so well."

He snickered.

"So, can we come tonight? You know, after your uncle leaves?"

"My uncle?"

Puuuuuuuuuuur-uuurp! Puuuuuuuuuuur-uuurp!

Ma.s.sie had no idea if that whistle was for her or Cam. And she didn't care. All that mattered right now was checking Harris's mattress as soon as possible.

"Fisher!" roared a stocky bald man in a silver-and-blue Nike track suit. "Let's go!"

Cam looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with his angry coach. "Uh-oh."

"What about Thursday?" Ma.s.sie pleaded. "Can we come Thursday?"

"Why do so many girls want to come to my house lately?" Cam mussed his sweaty dark hair.

"What? What do you mean so many girls? Who?"

"Fish-er!" yelled the coach.

"I really gotta go." Cam jogged toward the coach. "See you Friday."

"Cam, wait! What girls? What did you tell them?"

But Cam was gone, leaving Ma.s.sie wrapped in a nubby white towel in the middle of the soccer field, with nothing to kick but herself.

CURRENT STATE OF THE UNION.

IN.

OUT.

Briarwood beds .

Briarwood boys Friday-night soccer .

Friday-night sleepovers Coach key chains .

Coach Davis