Shaken Up by Alex Morgan Page A

come help you guys with Maisie’s team practice.”
    â€œMe too,” said Jessi quickly.
    I thought about that. “Well, I was kind of thinking of having a Maisie-free day, but since you guys are all going to be there . . .”
    â€œThat’s the spirit!” Emma cheered.
    She held up her water bottle, and we all lifted up our beverages and touched them together. I might have lost confidence about a lot of things, but I was confident in one thing: I had the best friends a person could ever want.

I managed to stay awake for the rest of the afternoon, all the way through English class. And I was so embarrassed about almost crying in front of Steven that I was sort of relieved when Steven walked Hailey to English class. I wasn’t ready to face him just yet.
    After school I went home to change, and then Mom drove me and Jessi to Maisie’s practice at the elementary school field. She seemed really happy to do it, in fact.
    â€œIt’s so nice that you want to help your little sister, Devin,” she said.
    I didn’t tell Mom that it hadn’t been my idea to do this. And I had to admit that the reason I had agreed to was to be with all my friends, but it felt good to help out Maisie too.
    â€œWow, this brings back memories,” Jessi remarked after Mom dropped both of us off.
    There were eighteen eight-year-old girls on the elementary school field, each one randomly dribbling a soccer ball. Zoe, Emma, and Frida were setting up orange cones on the field to make a square.
    â€œYeah, I remember my first soccer team,” I said. “I started a little younger than Maisie, though. I think I was five. I remember crying when it was time to leave practice. Can you believe that?”
    â€œYes, I can, because you sleep, eat, and breathe soccer,” Jessi replied with a grin. “I bet you learned how to dribble before you could walk.”
    â€œWell, for a lot of these girls, it’s their first team,” I said, nodding to the field. “Dad says they need a lot of help with basic skills.”
    â€œWhat did I say?” Dad asked, jogging up behind us.
    â€œJust that we need to work on basics with this team,” I said.
    Dad nodded. “We do. But thanks to you and your friends, we have the right equipment to get it done. You girls should feel really proud of that.”
    Dad was talking about the fact that the youth soccer program at Maisie’s school had almost been cut because of a lack of funding. So my four soccer friends and I had put together a big fund-raiser to try to help out. We had raised enough money, and then some, to get the team back on its feet. (It hadn’t hurt that Frida’s movie-star costar, Brady McCoy, had showed up at the fund-raiser too.) We’d raised enough money to buy all the equipment the girlsneeded. Dad and some other parents had volunteered to coach the teams, and the program had been saved.
    â€œWe do feel proud,” I said, smiling.
    Dad glanced over at the field. The cones squared off an area about fifteen feet by fifteen feet.
    â€œAll right. Let’s get this show on the road,” Dad said. He clapped and then ran toward the field. “All right, Panthers! Pick up your soccer balls and gather around.”
    I noticed that the girls obeyed Dad pretty quickly, without a lot of giggling or goofing around. That was a good sign, I thought. It meant they respected Dad as a coach. Emma, Frida, and Zoe came and stood by me and Jessi.
    â€œWe’ve got some extra helpers today,” Dad said. “You all remember Jessi, Devin, and Zoe, right?”
    Jessi, Zoe, and I waved hello to the girls, and they waved back. Besides Maisie, I recognized Juliet, a little girl with short blond hair, and Kaylin, who had long, brown braids. We called Juliet “mini-Zoe,” and Kaylin “mini-Jessi” because they looked like mini versions of my friends. And Jessi insisted on calling Maisie