Sunlight spilled across Jerry’s face, waking him with its warm brightness. He blinked. He’d fallen asleep in the chair!
“Oh, no!” he cried. Quickly, he looked through the telescope. Nothing seemed different from the night before. Everything seemed fine in Stookie’s room, too. The gerbils’ water bottles were half empty now, but the food trays were still full.
Jerry stood up and groaned. He was stiff all over from sleeping at the desk. He couldn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, but it must have been after two in the morning. That was the last time he’d looked at the clock.
Now it was nine o’clock. His stomach rumbled for breakfast. Jerry shook himself to get the last kinks out, then padded downstairs.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” said his mother. “Still in your pajamas? Say, don’t you have a soccer game this morning?”
Jerry slapped his forehead. He’d totally forgotten about the game —the game he was supposed to play center striker, the game that was going to start in half an hour! He wolfed down his cereal and toast, gulped a big glass of orange juice, and dashed upstairs to get into his uniform.
His mother drove him to the field. On the way, she gave him a piece of advice.
“Try to put the missing key out of your mind,” she said. “Sometimes answers come more easily when you stop thinking about the problem.”
“I’ll try,” Jerry said dismally.
The rest of the Soccer ’Cats were finishing their warm-ups when Jerry slid out of the car.
“Jerry, glad you could make it,” Coach Bradley drawled. “Ready to play some ball?”
Jerry nodded weakly. Truth was, he’d never felt less ready.
“Great,” the coach said. “We’re counting on you to fill Stookie’s shoes today!”
Hoo boy, Jerry thought. He ran out onto the field.
The ’Cats were playing against the Torpedoes, a tough team to beat. The ’Cats had won the coin toss and had the ball first.
The referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game. Jerry took a deep breath, then gave the ball a soft kick. Lou Barnes, the ’Cats’ right striker, caught the pass and started downfield.
Jerry jogged along parallel to him. He tried to follow his mother’s advice, but he just couldn’t get his mind off the missing key.
Where could it be? he asked himself over and over. Just then, he saw something gleaming in the grass in the field. Hopeful, he steered toward it —
— and missed the return pass from Lou! The ball bounced a few feet away from Jerry, right onto the waiting sneaker of a Torpedo halfback.
“Thanks a lot, pal!” the Torpedo said with a grin. Then she shot the ball skyward. It landed deep in ‘Cat territory. The Torpedoes front line swarmed it, as did the ’Cats’ four fullbacks. For a moment, no one could see who had possession.
Then it became all too clear. Goalie Bucky Pinter made a dive to the left, but he was too late. The Torpedoes had made the first goal.
As the teams lined up again, Jerry wanted to kick himself. The first play of the game, and he’d botched it! And all for nothing, too. The gleaming thing was just a pop-top from a soda can. He could just imagine what Stookie would have said if he’d been there to see it.
