Beyond Lucky by Sarah Aronson Page A

it?”
    â€œOkay. I’ll try.” Mac kicks me again. Ow. Same spot. I take some of her chips and I have to admit, turkey sandwiches with chips are a thousand times better than turkey sandwiches flat.
    Now Mac looks at me like I’m eating poison. “Not for me,” he says. “I’m in training.”
    Parker looks at him like he smells funny. “That’s too bad. Because it’s really good.” Then she leans in close and whispers in my ear, “He thinks he is so clever.”
    Mac immediately gets up. “Gotta go,” he says. He smiles at Becky, and she gets up too. Soup and Eddie crumple up their lunch bags and follow. At the same time, Sandy, Randi, and Kellie scoot to the far end of the table and giggle about something, hopefully not me. I stuff most of my sandwich into my mouth, but before I can make my move, or chew, or swallow, Parker asks, “Would you wait a minute?”
    We are essentially alone. This does not feel exactly like good luck. I swallow the gigantic wad of turkey, bread, and chips. It would be even better with cranberry sauce. “What do you want?”
    Her eyes look sad. And a little mad. “Why won’t he be nice to me?” I almost cough the whole thing right back up.
    â€œHe looks at me like I’m a criminal. Don’t try and deny it.”
    If I have to, I’ll plead the Fifth. “Just play hard. Don’t be a liability. That’s all Mac wants.”
    â€œReally?” She looks relieved. “Well, I can definitely do that.” Then she smiles in a sneaky way. “I can’t tell you what it is, but I have a secret weapon.”
    Now, that is funny. I’m the one with the secret weapon. It’s better than anything she has. “Well, if you work hard, and if Coach decides to start you—”
    â€œYou mean when he decides. It’s only a matter of time.” Somehow, the way she looks at me, I know she wants to say something I don’t want to hear. “Ari, you won’t make fun of me if I ask you a question?”
    â€œNo.” I really regret not leaving with Mac. “What?”
    â€œHow did you do it?”
    â€œDo what?”
    â€œSit on the sidelines.” She sighs. “Did you ever think about quitting? You had to know you could do the job just as well as Mischelotti.”
    This must be a girl thing. Even when it’s true, guys never talk like this. “It is what it is. I wouldn’t call it terrible. I had a job to do for the team. I had to be ready to go in. Just in case.”
    She does not need to know how much I hated every minute. Or that there were days I believed that the only reason Coach kept me on the team was to make sure Mac had a ride to the field. I say, “Besides, Coach practically promised you a starting position on the offense. He thinks you’re great.” I want to get out of here. “Last year, I didn’t have that. Sometimes I played sweeper, but that was it.”
    She finishes her crunchy sandwich. Apologizes a few times for being so nosy. “I know I should be psyched, and I hope this doesn’t bother you, but I can’t totally be happy. It’s my dream to start in the net.”
    I must look like it bothers me, because she backpedals fast. “I’m not saying I want you to get hurt like Mischelotti. And you’ve really taught me a lot. But I’m hoping that if we are in a blowout, or if you hit a rough patch . . .”
    â€œI will not hit a rough patch.”
    She starts tearing up her plastic wrap. “No, this is coming out wrong. I don’t think you will. I just want you to know I’m taking extra practice. I’m doing everything I can to be ready. Would you be upset if I asked Coach for a little more time in the net during practice? So he could see what I’m learning?”
    Mac is not going to believe this. I would never have asked Mischelotti for extra time. “I