4 Easy Freezies

The day before our first game I get my cleats. Maybe Charlie was right; I do feel better in them. Besides, my legs can bend again. Mom and Dad drive me to the game. They have lawn chairs and large coffees.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Dad calls as I trot out for warmups. He’s pretty pumped. Hey, I’m pretty pumped.

Mr. Lucas makes us do stretches. Then Diane goes in goal and we take shots. My kick goes toward the net. Now I’m really pumped.

The game starts. I’m on defense. We’re playing Herman’s Plumbing. They have red sweaters. From the opening kick, it’s about two seconds until Charlie gets the ball, takes it all the way down the field, and scores.

“Yaaay.”

I look over to the sidelines. All the moms and dads on our side of the centre are cheering. Somebody clangs a bell. Charlie trots back, slapping hands. Cool, I think, and we start again, only now we’re winning.

Nobody scores for a long time after that. We have freezies at halftime. Mostly I watch, even when I’m on the field. Somehow, the ball always seems to come down the other side and Mr. Lucas has told us to stay in our positions.

When I’m not on, I sit near the freezies cooler, because there’s some left over. Mr. Lucas yells a lot. So do the other parents. I wonder if I should tell him it all sounds the same out there. Before I can, Aldeen flattens a Herman’s Plumbing player, then trips over her giant cleats. The whistle doesn’t blow. The ball squirts free. Charlie takes it and scores again.

“Yaaay.”

This time there’s muttering with the cheers.

“Ouch!”

“Who is that kid?”

“You don’t know Aldeen Hummel? Hoo, boy. Quite a family. There’s the mom down there. Nobody knows where the dad is.”

I look. Off by herself, there’s another Aldeen, a little taller, with grey in her witchy hair and a cigarette drooping from her lips. As I watch, my mom goes over and says something to her.

“Morgan. Go on for Kaely,” says Mr. Lucas.

“Kaely!” I trot around, then Herman finally kicks the ball down my side. It’s my big chance. Kick to Charlie, I think. I wind up and boot the ball straight out of bounds. The whistle sounds. Game over. Parents cheer.

“Great play, Morgan!” My mom is jumping up and down beside Mrs. Hummel, who’s not. We line up to shake hands and someone knuckles me in the back.

“We won,” Aldeen says. She’s smiling. I’m smiling. Freezies, I think, then a large yogurt cone. I like soccer after all.