Defending Irene Read Online Free PDF Page B

blue. The mister dumped half the balls onto the ground and kicked them one after another toward his players.
    The boys raced each other for a chance at the balls, laughing, pushing, and tripping each other. This friendly competition continued between them as we practiced shooting into an unguarded net. But no one touched my ball. It and I could have been invisible except that everyone stayed well out of my way. I felt like a magnet in a school science experiment, repelling rather than attracting the charged metal filings.
    Then, after four or five minutes of this, Emi darted in front of me. With a friendly “ Ciao , Irene,” he tackled my ball and made off with it. I grinned.
    Practice was certainly taking on a confusing Alice in Wonderland air. I was happy when someone stole my ball and upset when the coach didn’t yell at me.
    I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. It felt good to have a short rest. My heart pounded in my chest. The same fast beat pulsed in my throat. I took a few deep breaths. One. Two. Three. Luigi was defending the goal now and returning as many balls as possible back to the attackers. I tensed my muscles and made a break for a nearby loose ball.
    Before I could reach it, someone slammed into me, knocking me to the ground.

6
Goal (gol)
Goal
    I pushed myself onto my elbows and blinked. The mister was standing with his back to the field, talking to Signora Martelli. “Excuse me, Irene! I did not see you!” Matteo’s blue eyes were wide with well-faked sincerity. Ah, I thought. While the cat’s away, the mice dance. He held out his hand: an offer of help.
    I wanted to slap it away, but that was exactly what he wanted. And if I ignored him completely, he’d probably like that too. So I took his hand and let him pull me up. He braced his feet and grunted.
    â€œHow strong and kind you are. A thousand thanks,” I murmured, batting my eyelashes for good measure.
    Matteo let go. I was ready for that, so I stayed on my feet instead of falling back into the dirt. He pointedly wiped his hand on his shorts. Afraid of girl germs?
    â€œThis is not a sport for a ragazza here,” Matteo hissed. “Do you want to make us lose?”
    â€œNo, I want to help us win. I am not so terrible.”
    â€œThere are better places to meet boys, you know. No one will fall in love with you here.”
    I put my hand to my heart. “Thank heaven! You have reassured me so much.”
    Matteo muttered something. It sounded like one of the Italian words that Dad had always refused to teach me.
    A whistle sounded, a long blast followed by two short ones. Matteo whirled to face the mister . I half-expected the man to yell at Matteo for chattering, but instead, he spoke to the entire team:
    â€œLeave the balls and come here.”
    We all did as he ordered except for one boy, who began tapping the abandoned balls into the empty goal as he slowly worked his way toward the mister .
    â€œFederico! I said leave them!”
    Federico jerked in surprise. His right foot hung in the air above a ball, and he only narrowly managed to stop himself from kicking it. Then, head down, he sprinted to the line forming behind the mister . I tried not to smile.
    Something told me that Federico was as new to the Esordienti team as I was. He was taller than Emi, but there was a suggestion in his rounded face and the way he moved that he was a younger player—a good younger player with lots of promise. Had he been promoted ahead of the others his age?
    We all followed the mister along the sideline at a brisk trot, making a sharp right at the centerline to stay on our half of the field we shared with the other team.
    Practice had just started and I was already hot and tired. It had been impossible to pace myself with Luigi practicing at one hundred percent. I lifted my eyes to the massive cloudbank hiding the mountaintops. It sent out a few shifting
tentacles, but otherwise, it