Authors: Matt Christopher
Heads Up!
To my great-granddaughter Tiffany Marie Howell
Text copyright © 2000 by Catherine M. Christopher
Illustrations copyright © 2000 by Daniel Vasconcellos
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of Catherine M. Christopher.
Hachette Book Group
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New York, NY 10017
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First eBook Edition: December 2009
ISBN: 978-0-316-09432-0
Contents
| Lou Barnes | Striker |
| Jerry Dinh | Striker |
| Stookie Norris | Striker |
| Dewey London | Halfback |
| Bundy Neel | Halfback |
| Amanda Caler | Halfback |
| Brant Davis | Fullback |
| Lisa Gaddy | Fullback |
| Ted Gaddy | Fullback |
| Alan Minter | Fullback |
| Bucky Pinter | Goalie |
Subs:
Jason Shearer
Dale Tuget
Roy Boswick
Edith “Eddie” Sweeny
“H
ere!” a familiar voice yelled from Amanda Caler’s right side.
Amanda, left halfback for the Soccer ’Cats soccer team, glanced up to see Stookie Norris waving to her. He was in the clear
so she kicked the ball to him. It was a perfect shot to the striker. Stookie stopped the ball, dribbled half a dozen feet
toward the goal, then gave it a hard kick at the net.
Goal!
“Good shot, Stookie!” several ’Cats yelled. The fans yelled, too. The score narrowed the gap. Now instead of Panthers 3, ’Cats 0, it was Panthers 3, ’Cats 1.
But the game was in its final minutes and the chances of the ’Cats scoring again were slim. That dismal thought raced through
Amanda’s mind as she watched the Panthers move the ball down the field with short, surefooted passes.
The ball crossed the center line before Amanda could reach it. Three Panthers were passing the ball among them, eluding their
attackers like mice eluding cats.
For a couple of seconds Amanda studied their pattern. When she sensed an opportunity to steal the ball, she raced in. With
a lightning-quick move, she trapped the ball with the instep of her right foot, spun, and dribbled the ball out of the attacking
zone.
The Panthers were caught by surprise. That gave Amanda enough time to move the ball
deeper into the Panthers’ territory. Jerry Dinh came up alongside her, but Amanda kept control of the ball until she saw an
attacker sweeping up from her other side.
“Jerry!” she called and passed the ball to him.
Jerry, a striker, slowed it down with the instep of his foot. Two Panthers were on him in an instant.
Amanda followed, ready to receive a pass if Jerry got into trouble.
Jerry did get in trouble. Usually as cool as a cucumber, he looked flustered as both Panthers stabbed at the ball with their
feet.
Stookie Norris swooped in to try to help, but the Panthers boxed him out. “Get rid of it!” Stookie cried.
Jerry didn’t hesitate. He walloped the ball as hard as he could — right at Amanda.
Blam!
Amanda was hit full force in the face!
The contact was so solid, she saw stars.
Then she saw something else. Blood, and lots of it. It was spilling from her nose onto her shirt. One look was all she got.
Dizziness swept over her. The last thing she remembered was hitting the turf.
W
hen Amanda came to, she found herself being carried. Something cold was pressed against her nose.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she cried, struggling to get free.
“Whoa, hold on a minute,” came a deep voice. It was Coach Bradley, the person who was carrying her. He removed the ice pack
from her nose and sat her down gently on the bench.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her with concern. “That was some nosebleed you got.”
She touched her nose gingerly. The bleeding had stopped. “Guess I passed out,” she mumbled.
The coach smiled. “Guess you did. Are you in much pain?”
She wiggled her nose from side to side. “No, it’s not too bad,” she said. “I think I can keep playing.”
The coach shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’re sitting out the rest of the game, Amanda.” He pulled a cell phone out
of his team duffel bag. “In fact, I’m calling your mother to come get you right now.”
Amanda’s heart sank. Her mother turned white at the sight of a skinned knee. She usually stayed away from Amanda’s soccer
games because she didn’t want to see anyone get hurt. What would she do when she heard Amanda had had a bloody nose?
And what about her T-shirt? There was enough blood on it to equal a dozen skinned knees!
Well, she couldn’t stop the coach from calling her mom. But maybe he could help with the T-shirt.
“Uh, Coach, do you have any extra Soccer ’Cats shirts in that bag? I think mine is ruined.”
Coach Bradley nodded. “Go ahead and look. You can change in the rest room.”
Amanda searched the bag and found what she was looking for. As she started toward the bathroom, Coach Bradley called, “Take
Eddie with you, just in case.”
Edith “Eddie” Sweeny looked up, surprised. But she slid off the bench and joined Amanda.
“What does he think is going to happen to you?” Eddie grumbled, shaking her head of fiery red hair. “Now I’ll miss the
end of the game. Not that I was going to get in again anyway. He always subs Dale in for you instead of me. I don’t know why.
I think I’d make a pretty good halfback, don’t you?”
Amanda didn’t know what to say. Eddie was a good player, but she was hot-tempered sometimes. That could come in handy on defense,
when the team needed someone to battle hard for possession of the ball. But on offense, one needed a cool head. A big part
of the halfback’s job was helping set up offensive plays. Amanda wasn’t sure Eddie would be any good at that.
So instead of answering, Amanda ducked into a bathroom stall and pulled off her old shirt. As she struggled into the new shirt,
she said, “We better hurry and get back to the team to shake hands.”
When Amanda emerged from the bathroom holding the old shirt, Eddie was frowning. She looked like she was about to say
something, but didn’t. Instead, she looked at the shirt in Amanda’s hand.
“Boy, I bet it hurt when you got hit,” she said finally. “Sure hope it doesn’t make you afraid of the ball.”
T
he girls walked back to the bench in silence. Amanda felt guilty for not having answered Eddie’s question.
But then again,
she told herself,
my mother always says if you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.
Amanda’s mother arrived shortly after the girls returned. As Amanda expected, her mother looked like she was about to faint.
“Oh, my poor little girl,” she cried as she crushed Amanda in a bear hug. “I knew this game was dangerous. Why, oh why, won’t you take up ballet like your sister?”
