Gracie Read Free Page A

thought it was completely unfair that Mom and I cleared the table and washed the dishes simply because we were female. When I argued about it, Dad just said that he and the boys did other things, like raking and taking out the garbage. This argument didn’t hold up with me because meal cleanup was a nightly event, and garbage was only twice weekly. Besides that, I helped with the raking, even though I didn’t have to, mostly because it was fun to jump in the leaf piles afterward, though that was beside the point.
    The thing, though, that bugged me the most about after-supper cleanup was that when the weather was decent, the guys went back outside and worked on their soccer some more. Dad had even rigged up big stadium-style lights so they could play after dark!
    That’s what they were doing while Mom and I washed and put away dishes. While I worked, I kept checking out the kitchen window to see what was happening. Dad was pacing back and forth as he talked to Johnny about what he should be doing on the field.
    Johnny sat polishing the cleats of his soccer shoes, nodding. Mike and Daniel were there listening, gazing
up adoringly at Dad as though he was giving them the secrets of the universe.
    At supper, Dad talked as though he was completely confident about this year’s big game between Kingston and Columbia, but I knew he was nervous about it. They had come so close last year, and they were close once again. He was determined that the Cougars were going to be State Champs this year.
    â€œJohnny still polishing his cleats?” Mom asked as she handed me a plate to dry. I checked quickly outside and nodded. I hadn’t even seen her glance out the window once. How did she know? “It’s got to be almost an hour already,” she added, handing me another plate.
    â€œHe does it for luck,” I told her. That’s what he had said to me.
    Mom sighed and shook her head. “He does it because he’s nervous; he can’t lose.” I thought she looked worried. “It’s too much for one kid.”
    She was wrong. Johnny lived for soccer—like Dad said, he was a natural. He couldn’t lose because it wasn’t in him to lose.
    Mom knew soccer and she liked it, but she didn’t get it the way the rest of us did. It wasn’t in her blood. Dad didn’t think it was in my blood, either, but it was. It didn’t matter that I was a girl. I’d learned along with the boys, watched all the practices, and even if I wasn’t as good at it as they were—because I hadn’t been allowed to train the way they had—I loved the game just as much.

    The big Kingston/Columbia match finally came. That night our whole family crammed into the stands that were completely packed with spectators. Even Granddad was there, carried into the bleachers by Dad.
    My friend Jena came, too, since we did everything together. Plus, though she wasn’t particularly big on soccer, everyone in school was psyched up for this game. Kingston was our biggest rival. Like everyone else, she wasn’t going to miss the chance to see the Cougars beat them.
    Down on the field, in the glare of the night lights, Kate Dorset was leading the cheerleading squad. Coach Colasanti, who had been the soccer coach at Columbia for as long as anyone could remember, was excitedly talking to the players, who were listening intently from the bench. Beside him Mr. Clark, the history teacher, who was also assistant Varsity coach and Junior Varsity coach, was writing things down.
    I guessed Coach Colasanti was giving instructions for the second half. Johnny had played really well for the whole first half of the game, but some of the others hadn’t done as well. Kyle missed a few passes. I knew because, as always, I had my eye on him, and there had been some other bad plays, as well. There was no score, but Kingston was threatening.
    Peter looked up and saw me watching. He hadn’t played at all; he