Free Offside by M. G. Higgins Page A

How will you get into college without good grades?”
    Faith shook her head. She refused to have the college argument again. They didn’t have the money. She didn’t have the grades. She wasn’t even one of the Copperheads’ starting defenders—her soccer skills were only good enough to keep her on the bench. No scholarship. No college. End of story.
    After a few bites of cereal, Faith’s stomach clenched and she pushed the bowl away. She really should have finished that report, she thought. Even if she didn’t go to college, she at least wanted to graduate high school. Then she’d get a job and her own apartment.
    Her mom cleared her throat and said, “I have to cover for Emily this afternoon. So you need to stay home after school.”
    â€œWhat? No! I have a game!” She half-listened as her mom explained how Emily’s sick son had an afternoon doctor’s appointment. And how Emily had done the same thing for her a few months ago. Blah, blah, blah.
    Faith shoved her chair back, carried her bowl to the sink, and dumped out her uneaten cereal. How could her mom go back on their agreement again? For the past three years, Mom made sure everyone had breakfast and got to school okay. Then she slept until school let out. In return, Faith babysat in the afternoon or evening, giving Mom a couple more hours of sleep. At nine thirty that evening, when Mom left for work, Faith was in charge. In return, Faith got to play soccer. That was all Faith ever asked for.
    Faith washed her bowl and set it on the drying rack.
    â€œAstha,” her mom said, “your needs can’t always come first.”
    â€œI’ll be home before three,” Faith said flatly.
    As she was leaving the kitchen, Antim wandered in, dragging a stuffed dinosaur behind him. He grabbed Faith around her legs and mumbled, “Morning.”
    She patted his head. “You need to get ready for kindergarten, Ant Man.”
    â€œOkay.” He crawled into his mom’s lap.
    Â . . .

    Faith grabbed the soccer ball wedged underneath her bed. If she left for school now, she’d be an hour early. That was okay. She’d rather be there than stuck at the apartment for the Patel family morning chaos show. As an afterthought, she grabbed the flash drive with her partially written nutrition report. Maybe she’d have time to finish it in the computer lab.
    As she passed the hallway’s picture gallery, Faith stopped in front of the family photo that included her dad. He was a handsome guy. Smart too. An electrical engineer. Taken in front of their old house, the picture always reminded Faith of her pink bedroom and the nice Fraser suburb. She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. “Thanks for getting cancer, Dad.”
    Part of her regretted her sarcasm. A bigger part didn’t. She trotted out the door and ran down the apartment steps.

F
    aith’s mom purposely chose an apartment building located between Fraser High and the elementary and middle schools. So what if the building was a total dump in Fraser’s worst neighborhood? It was convenient. And inexpensive.
    As with every walk to and from school, Faith turned on her iPod. It was an ancient model, but it worked. Faith also plastered on her “don’t mess with me” face. But at six thirty A.M. , the only people up and about were trash collectors. A garbage truck rumbled by. The guy hanging off the back whistled at her. Faith hunched her shoulders and sped up.
    After three blocks, the streets became more residential. Faith slowed her pace. Her jaw slackened. Not only did she feel safer on these blocks, she also liked to admire the lawns and flowers and well-kept houses. Four blocks more and the two-story high school came into view. The doors unlocked at a quarter past seven. That would give her a little time to get her paper done. Otherwise, she was in no hurry for school to start. Following the sidewalk around the