Free Playing With the Boys by Liz Tigelaar Page A

you never know what you can do until you do it.” Lucy gave her a look, not believing her.
     
     
    “Trust me.” Martie smiled. “You can make it.” She handed Lucy a late pass.
     
     
    Lucy grabbed the slip of paper and headed for the door. Martie was making it impossible for her to say no.
     
     
     
“I’m sorry, kid,” Lucy’s dad said as he engulfed her in a hug. “I know how much you wanted this.”
     
     
    Lucy nodded as she leaned against his chest, taking a deep breath. She inhaled the familiar combination of men’s Speed Stick,Tide, and cologne, and blinked back tears, trying not to think about everything she was going to miss. The practices, the games, the team dinners, the bus rides, the locker room jokes—she’d be missing out on all of it.
     
     
    “I have a lot of homework to do,” Lucy said softly and headed for her room.
     
     
    An hour later, after she had waded through most of her geometry proofs and conjugated at least twenty Spanish verbs, she heard the doorbell ring. Lucy looked up, surprised. The sound of girls’ voices echoed in the foyer. Considering her dad barely knew his coworkers yet, Lucy couldn’t imagine who would be visiting them—at dinnertime, no less. Girl Scouts selling cookies? Teen Jehovah’s
     
     
    Witnesses? She tentatively opened her bedroom door and peered out. Down the long hallway, she saw her dad taking coats and welcoming Pickle, Charlie, and Max into the house.
     
     
    Lucy rushed out. “What’s going on?” she asked, concerned.
     
     
    Pickle handed Lucy’s dad her green army jacket and turned to Lucy. “Your dad invited us for dinner!”
     
     
    Lucy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “He did?” She looked at her dad, panicked. He put a hand on her shoulder.
     
     
    “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I’m not cooking.” He looked to the girls. “Everyone like pepperoni?” Charlie, Max, and Pickle nodded as Lucy’s dad grabbed his keys. “Great,” he said, opening the door. “I’ll be back in twenty.” He shut the door behind him, leaving a stunned Lucy in his wake.
     
     
    “What—what’re you guys, like . . . you know, doing here?” she stammered.
     
     
    “I called to see how you were doing,” Pickle explained, “and your dad said you could use some cheering up.”
     
     
    Lucy tried to hide her look of horror. She knew her dad’s heart was in the right place, but these girls barely knew her. They’d only hung out outside soccer once, and that had ended in disaster when Lucy’s party plans fell through. Now they were in her house. And it wasn’t even her house!
     
     
    “This place is sweet,” Max said admiringly as she walked into the living room.
     
     
    “It’s just a rental,” Lucy explained sheepishly. “It’s not really ours.”
     
     
    “We sold our house and rent too now,” Max said. “My dad says it makes more sense in this market, whatever that means.”
     
     
    “Fascinating,” Charlie said dryly. “So, should we tell her why we’re really here?”
     
     
    Lucy stared at the girls, confused. Max turned to Charlie. “Operation Cheer Up. We just told her.”
     
     
    “We’re not just here to cheer Lucy up,” Charlie responded, nudging Pickle.
     
     
    “Okay,” Pickle admitted. “There’s another reason we came over.”
     
     
    Max seemed totally in the dark. “Free pizza?”
     
     
    Charlie shook her head and laughed slightly. “Uh . . . no.” Then she considered. “Is he getting thin crust?”
     
     
    Pickle looked at Charlie and Max, exasperated. “You guys! We’re not here to talk about pizza.”
     
     
    “Can we talk about chips?” Max asked. “Because I’m starving.” She headed to the kitchen in search of a snack.
     
     
    Pickle turned to Lucy. “We’re here to talk about football.”
     
     
    Lucy exhaled loudly. Suddenly, it all made sense. She understood exactly what was going on. “Martie put you up to this.”
     
     
    “She didn’t