Free The Real Soccer Moms of Beaver County by H.J. Bellus, Magan Vernon Page B

trying to get him not to eat his boogers.
    “I think Brady might be cheating on me,” I whispered.
    “WHAT?” Moira yelled and all of the kids turned toward us.
    I smiled politely between all of the kids. “Miss Moira just has a little hearing problem, kids.”
    The kids shrugged and went back to what they were doing.
    “How is that even possible?” Moira asked, finally lowering her voice.
    “I didn’t think he was at first, but this morning he shut the computer as soon as I came into the room, so of course I opened it when he left and found the Pottery Barn website open!”
    Moira put her hands on her cheeks in mock shock. “Not Pottery Barn!”
    I wrinkled my nose. “Seriously, do I have anything Pottery Barn in my house? He was looking at furniture. Furniture he is probably buying for his mistress!”
    Moira rolled her eyes. “That’s why you think he’s cheating?”
    I shook my head. “No. It’s more than that. He’s always had these crazy business plans, none of them have ever made it, but he’s always been so excited to talk about them. This time, whatever he was doing, he didn’t want me to know. And get this, today he took the minivan! He usually takes the hearse when he’s running errands in town, so whatever S-L-U-T he’s shacking up with, has to live somewhere other than Beaver Falls.”
    “You do know the kids can spell now, right Luna?”
    I sighed, walking in step with Moira and turning off Main toward the high school where the soccer fields were set up behind the rusty bus garages. “Yeah, but I still can’t bring myself to say the words.”
    Moira squeezed my shoulder. “Brady loves you. He’s loved you since grade school. He wouldn’t cheat.”
    “I hope you’re right. But don’t tell the other moms, okay? The last thing I need is Queenie gossiping to the other hair dressers, or Blanche telling her brother or my mother-in-law.”
    Moira practically keeled over laughing. “Yeah, I think you’d have better luck with me telling your husband than talking to Blanche.”
    Saige and Henry ran ahead of us, kicking their balls down the small hill until they met up with their team.
    Blanche and Queenie were camped out in folding chairs near the bleachers. Queenie waved when we approached, but Blanche looked down at her manicured nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.
    “Hey, ladies,” Queenie exclaimed as we unfolded our chairs next to his. Moira made sure to be on the other side of me and as far away from Blanche as she could be.
    This was getting ridiculous. These girls were older than me and acting like we were all still in high school.
    But I had more important things to worry about than their petty shit. Like Oleander crying just as soon as I sat down.
    Unhooking the strap on my dress, I popped my boob in his mouth and he happily sucked instead of screamed.
    “Did you seriously just whip your boob out at a soccer game?” Queenie stared down at Oleander’s little head.
    “You want my kid to scream the entire time?”
    Queenie sat back in his seat and kept his face forward.
    Blanche finally looked away from her fingernails and gasped. “Luna, put your titties away or at least cover up!”
    She threw a scarf at me, hitting my shoulder and bouncing off on the ground next to Queenie.
    Queenie stood up, turning away from me and waving into the bleachers. “Oh, look, there’s Kathy from the salon!”
    A woman with short, spiky black hair, a very deep tan, and a black shirt reading ‘17’ in big bedazzled letters, stood up and climbed over the bleachers. “Quinn, what are you doing here?”
    Queenie laughed, walking toward her. “Annie’s playing for the Little Beaver’s”
    Kathy offered him a tight-lipped smile. “Cute. Which one is she?”
    Queenie pointed toward Anna, who was sitting on the ground and picking a dandelion as the ball went right past her. “What about yours?”
    Kathy pointed toward the goal where a kid that looked much older than