Free Read All About It! by Rachel Wise Page B

over to Hailey. She was all sweaty.
    â€œHi. How was practice?” I asked, not really interested.
    â€œAwesome! Our coach went to a training camp
     this summer and she has all these new drills and . . .” I hate to say it but I
     tuned Hailey out and just let her talk. I could never be a sportswriter (my soccer
     tryouts article focused on the human element and the numbers, not the moves). In the
     end, who really cares? It’s just a game.
    The football team was coming in and they caught my eye as they crossed
     the soccer field to hit the locker room. I quickly looked away and averted my eyes from
     number fifteen. Let him think I didn’t see him. I had nothing to say to Michael
     Lawrence right now.
    But apparently Hailey did. “Hey, fifteen!” she called.
     Michael broke from the line and walked over to us.
    Ugh. “Hailey!” I whispered in my meanest whisper. But she
     ignored me.
    â€œHow was practice?” she asked as he drew near.
    â€œHey, Hailey. What’s up, Trippy?” he said.
    I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply.
    Those two got chatting about drills and new kinds of stretching while I
     busied myself withchecking my to-do list in my notebook.
    I looked up, and Hailey had found a soccer ball and was doing this thing
     where she tries to see how many times she can bounce it off her foot and head and knee
     without it touching the ground. “Juggling,” she was calling it. I was a
     little bit proud of her because she is very, very good at it. She could do it so many
     times in a row.
    Michael clapped. “Way to go!” he said. “Here, let me
     try!”
    Hailey booted it over to him and he caught it with his foot, then he
     started doing the juggling thing. He got to fourteen and lost the ball. Then Hailey
     said, “I can beat that!” and gave it another try.
    I sighed in irritation. This was boring and I hated Michael.
     “Hailey, let’s go ,” I said.
    Michael looked over at me. “In a rush?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œNo,” said Hailey.
    Murder on the Soccer Field , I thought.
     Couldn’t she tell I wanted to get out of here?
    Hailey got to twenty-seven juggles, or whatever they were called, and
     Michael whistled with hisfingers in his mouth. I love when guys
     can do that, even though I hate Michael.
    â€œHey, Pasty, you try,” he said. Oh great, now we’re
     back to the original.
    â€œNo, I . . .” But Hailey had already booted me the ball. I
     tried to reach it but I slid and went kind of sprawling. My bag swung forward and I
     tipped over. My face burned as I stood up and those two were laughing.
    â€œDoes she do this all the time?” Michael asked Hailey.
    â€œThat’s why we love her!” replied Hailey.
    I picked myself up and adjusted my bag, which had flopped open. Fine. I
     can play at this game. I pulled the ball over with my toe and gave it a few little
     kicks. It kind of hurt. I bent down to lift it and start it off in the air, but they
     both hollered, “No hands!”
    I dropped it like a hot potato. “Chillax!” I said.
     Sheesh.
    I wiggled the ball around and got it in the air. I managed two juggles a
     few times and once even three, but there was no way I was getting as many as those
     two.
    They called out tips and encouragement, and I
     wasn’t sure if it would be worse to quit or keep trying and failing. Finally, I
     booted the ball back to Hailey.
    â€œWe have our work cut out for us tonight,” she said.
    â€œYeah,” I said, even crankier. As if I was going to spend
     quality sleepover time learning soccer moves!
    â€œWell, let me know if you ever need some extra help
     coaching,” said Michael.
    Hailey laughed. “I need all the help I can get!”
    â€œThat’s not what it looked like yesterday!”
    â€œWell, that was just a casual scrimmage,” said Hailey.
     “Next time I’ll really