Saving the Team Read Online Free PDF Page B

line, zigzagging through a series of cones, dribbling soccer balls. Dust swirled around everyone’s feet. Instead of the lush, well-maintained grass of Kentville’s soccer field, the community park’s field was basically dirt with a few tufts of weeds.
    I shuffled into line with Jessi, Emma, and Zoe. “Where were you?” Jessi asked.
    â€œBack at the field outside school.”
    â€œLike we’d ever practice there,” said Jessi. “That’s reserved for the boys. We get to use it only for actual games.”
    â€œBut we had tryouts there the other day,” I countered.
    â€œYeah, on the first day of school,” Jessi said. “The boys’ coach didn’t want to overwhelm his boys with tryouts on the first day, so we got sloppy seconds.”
    â€œI just found out from Coach that we get the field for a game or practice only if the boys are at an away game,” Emma added. “It’s so unfair, right, Zoe?”
    Zoe nodded. “I heard the seventh graders last year complaining they were second fiddle to the boys’ team,” she said regretfully. “I can see what they meant.” We all looked bummed out at the news.
    A girl standing in line in front of us turned around. “If we win some games, maybe we’ll get some more respect around here.” She had long blond hair with bangs cut straight across her forehead.
    â€œHey, Brianna,” Emma said. “I thought after tryouts yousaid you weren’t going to be able to play soccer.”
    â€œI am kind of booked up,” Brianna admitted. “What with chess club, Model UN, and the upcoming science fair. And I’ve got to keep my GPA up—I’ve still got a perfect four-point-oh. But I figured I would try to add soccer into the mix. After all, healthy body, healthy mind.” She tapped her forehead.
    I laughed to myself. I had a feeling Brianna would love my mom’s green smoothie, which Mom always called brain food. Maybe Brianna would trade Maisie some fruit punch for one! But I felt myself frowning as my mind went back to where the girls’ team ranked.
    â€œLet me get this straight,” I interrupted them. “The girls’ team never gets to practice on the actual field? How are we supposed to get familiar with it?” At Milford whoever had an upcoming game got priority. That wasn’t the case here, I guessed.
    â€œThat’s not all,” Brianna said. She pointed to the end of our field.
    Something was missing. “Where are the goals?” I wondered.
    â€œI was wondering the same thing, so I asked Coach as soon as I got here. See those trash cans down there?” Emma said, indicating two big bright orange cans spaced a few yards apart. “Those are the goalposts.”
    â€œHow do we know how high to kick the ball?” I asked. Without any crossbars it would be hard to know if a ball would count as a score.
    â€œCoach said we just kick it, and if she calls it a goal, it’s a goal,” Emma said. A junky field, trash cans for goals, and a coach who acted more like a preschool teacher than a soccer coach. Were all of our practices going to be like this?
    â€œWhat drill are we doing?” I asked.
    â€œWe’re dribbling through the cones,” Jessi said. I watched the few girls ahead of us go.
    â€œAre we dribbling the cones any special way?” I asked.
    â€œNot yet. Coach just said to go through them. Any way you want,” she said. Back at Milford, each time through the cones we’d focus on something different. Maybe just left-foot touches, or keeping the ball close with short dribbles for extra control. Something to learn and get better at. Here nobody seemed to be concentrating very hard on what they were doing.
    On my turn I raced in and out of the cones, double tapping the ball on each crossover.
    â€œNice! How did you do that?” exclaimed Emma from behind me. “Let me try.” When