Lucy Doesn't Wear Pink (33 page)

“Can’t you do something, Mr. Auggy?”

Mr. Auggy took off his ball cap and smoothed his hair with an unhappy hand and jammed the hat back on. “I’m sorry, Lucy. He’s the parent. He has the right — ”

“No he doesn’t. He doesn’t have any right to be horrible to J.J. It’s not fair!”

“Nobody ever promised us fair, Luce,” Dad said. But he sounded like he found it just as hideous as she did.

Lucy sagged against the fence. She didn’t know which knot to turn to first. It was going to be so messed up, playing without J.J. He was their midfielder.

And he had worked so hard — harder than anybody because he had to deal with Gabe all the time.

“Come on, Luce, ride with us,” Dad said. “It’s too late to go on your bike.”

With her heart in the pit of her stomach, Lucy climbed into the backseat of Mr. Auggy’s Jeep and sat down hard. Why wouldn’t his dad let him go? Did he find out Mudge was in the garage? No, that was stupid. Was it because he hated Mr. Auggy? Januarie had told her that, and she’d just seen it with her own eyes.

Or was it what she’d figured out that night with Inez . . . that J.J. lived with a very mean man who did more than just yell at him.

“He’s gonna hit J.J. when they get inside the house,” she said.

They had just pulled up to the soccer field behind the enormous van. Mr. Auggy pressed the brakes, hard, and looked at her in the rearview mirror.

“Why do you say that, Miss Lucy?”

“Because he almost did it before you got out there, only he noticed me. But I think he’s done it before, and that’s why J.J.’s so mad all the time.”

Dad tilted his head, and Mr. Auggy looked at him as if he could see. They seemed to have a whole conversation without saying a word.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Lucy said.

“You saw him start to hit J.J.?” Mr. Auggy said. Lucy nodded.

“You’ve done a lot, Sam,” Dad said, “but I think it’s time.”

Lucy felt like one big knot. Had she just gotten J.J. into more trouble?

Mr. Auggy twisted to look at her. “I want you to put this out of your mind right now,” he said.

“How can I?”

“Because you’re the captain, and whatever you tell your team, they’ll do.”

“So, I need to tell them J.J. can’t play but we’ll be fine?”

“We will be. How do you think we can move people around?”

Lucy tried to get her thoughts out of J.J.’s house. “Okay,” she said slowly. “We’ll just go back to being forwards and backs. It’ll be less confusing for Carla Rosa anyway.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Auggy put up his hand for her to grip. “You’re a good leader, and you have a strong team. You can do this.”

Lucy thought she could. She grabbed her bag and got out of the car with confidence. And then it all drained away as she watched the van in front of her empty. Aunt Karen’s team climbed off one by one. Tall. Looking older than eleven. She lost count at fifteen.

Mr. Auggy was already shaking their coach’s hand.

“Dad?” Lucy said.

“Yeah, champ? What’s wrong?”

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his ear. “Their whole team is boys. All of them.”

Dad’s brow wrinkled, and then he chuckled — that sound she loved so much, that sound that made everything okay.

“Why is that a problem, champ?” he said. “I’ve never known you to play with anything but boys until recently.”

That was true.

“Are they big?”

“Huge,” Lucy said.

“Good — they won’t be able to run as fast.”

“You think?”

“It’s all about heart, champ,” Dad said. “That’s what your mom used to say. She was all heart — and so are you.”

Lucy straightened her shoulders and mentally counted her freckles. Okay.
God — no knots. Please untangle us and let us go.

The team was behind the concession stand, which already smelled like funnel cakes and nachos. Carla Rosa was on her before Lucy could open her mouth.

“Guess what — ”

“I know — it’s all boys — so what?”

“Hello!” Veronica said. She had lost all control of her bottom lip. “I’m scared.”

“They’ll trample us!” Dusty said.

Carla Rosa whimpered.

And then Lucy heard something else. High-pitched girls’ voices were yelling, “What about — what about — what about our Suenos?”

A roar answered them — or at least it seemed like a roar to Lucy. The team ran to the side of the concession stand and peeked around. The bleachers were full of people, familiar people — the ones who cut their hair and sold them their candy bars and yelled at them for picking their roses. And their kids. And some folks Lucy didn’t even know who appeared to be as excited as they were. In front of them was Mora’s dance team, swinging hips they didn’t have and shouting, “What about — what about — what about our Suenos?”

“Where did we get cheerleaders?” Gabe said.

Oscar nudged him. “What about — the whole town is here!”

It was true, and they looked like a happy town, waving the red, white, and blue pom-poms Inez was handing out.

Inez?

In one corner of the bleachers, a group of grown-ups dressed in clothes like the ones in the windows in Ruidosa sat watching the rest like they were witnessing a play put on by a kindergarten class. Some of them had turquoise jackets in their laps, as if they were holding them for someone and they better hurry up and come back and get them. Lucy didn’t even have to look for Pachuco cheerleaders.

“Oh, they’re dead,” Gabe said. “Come on, we can take them.”

“Yes, we can,” Lucy said.

“We at least have to try. I mean, look at that.” Dusty tightened her ponytail. “I’m in.”

“Heck, yeah,” Gabe said.

He nudged Emanuel, who nodded and punched Oscar, who looked around for someone to poke. Lucy caught her breath.

“Um, you guys,” Lucy said, “J.J.’s dad won’t let him play today.”

This time there were no whimpers — only angry shouts of “What?” and “That’s messed up.” Lucy quieted them with one hand up and explained what they were going to do.

“Okay, now I’m really smoked,” Gabe said. “We gotta win this for J.J.”

“I love that,” Veronica said.

Lucy could only think that she really was having a dream.

Mr. Auggy led them out onto the field for warm-up. The crowd in the bleachers went wild, and Lucy felt as if she were in the Olympics. Energy surged all the way out to her fingers, and she was ready. She could tell the rest of her team was too. Dusty and Veronica f lipped their ponytails like young horses, and she was pretty sure Gabe was snorting smoke from his nostrils as they all stretched. She felt a pang of hurt for J.J., but then Mr. Auggy said it was time. It wasn’t a dream with pieces missing. It was real.

There was one referee on the field: Reverend Servidio in long pants and sneakers and a black sweater. He looked like Mr. Rogers at a funeral.

“He’s our ref?” Gabe whispered — sort of loudly — to Lucy.

“He’s the only one they could get who wasn’t related to somebody on the team and used to play soccer and could still run.” She didn’t say that Dad had added, “Without having a heart attack.”

She wondered if he had talked to God about this game. It couldn’t hurt. Especially since one of the linesmen, the one provided by the El Paso team, looked all official in black shorts and shirt and knee socks that covered his shin guards.

Things became dreamlike again. Lucy and the captain of the Pa-chucos went to the center of the field. He was a head taller than Lucy and had more hair on his chin than Gabe. They f lipped a coin — Lucy won the toss — and the crowd went wild as if she’d scored a goal. When the Dreams got into formation for the kickoff, they shook their pom-poms and stomped their feet until Lucy hoped the sheriff ’s workers had done an extra-good job or the bleachers were going to fall down. And the game hadn’t even started yet.

When it did, there was a lot to cheer about. The Pachucos were fast and fancy, but Mr. Auggy had warned them about that. Lucy coached her team: “Steady, Oscar.” “Take your time, Dusty.” And they settled down.

There were a couple of offsides calls, but Mr. Auggy kept saying that was okay. And there were no fouls on their team. Clean play, Mr. Auggy always said. They moved the ball down the field, passing to each other, evading the presence of their opponents just as they’d practiced with each other. When one stocky Pachuco tripped Carla Rosa, his own ref blew the whistle and Carla got a direct free kick. It was way too far from their goal for even Gabe to have gotten it in, but it charged the Dreams up. The ball came so close to the goal on their next drive that Lucy could feel every nerve in her body standing up cheering. It just needed a nudge, the slider shot J.J. was so good at. Emanuel wasn’t as good at it. The goalie picked up the ball, and Lucy’s team was at the ready. He looked around, his teammates yelling “To me!” The whistle blew.

“You only have six seconds to do something with that ball, son,” Reverend Servidio said.

“That wasn’t six seconds!” the goalie said.

“Indirect kick for the Dreams.”

Lucy glanced behind her. Veronica was hanging back, but she looked alert.

“To Veronica!” Lucy called.

Emanuel passed the ball right to her, and they were in control again.

That didn’t last long.

The Pachucos began to chatter to each other in Spanish and closed in on every Dream who got the ball. Lucy yelled for them to shield! — turn! She herself used the fakes she and J.J. had practiced — but when she saw an opening and passed the ball to Carla Rosa, it was swept away. The Dreams were suddenly like clowns on the field, running this way and that to find the ball, which was being dribbled straight for the goal. Oscar came to life — the crowd screamed — and the ball shot right between his legs. Only a spattering of clapping could be heard over the moan from the bleachers.

“It’s okay, Oscar!” Lucy called to him. “Spread the defense!”

Nobody seemed to move.

“Hello! Spread out!”

“Let’s go!” Gabe cried.

Lucy focused on the ball, which Mr. Chin Hair was dribbling lazily. He was leaning and lunging like he had fancy moves, but he wasn’t doing anything with his feet. Lucy kept her eyes on the ball. She didn’t want to make a move until she was sure she could get it.

And then her chance came. Mr. Chin Hair let the ball get a little too far away from him, and Lucy pounced. She was off toward her goal — with another hulking couldn’t-possibly-be-eleven-year-old boy on her, arms out wide, trying to block her vision.

“To me!” she heard Dusty cry.

Lucy turned and passed the ball to her, and she took off. Mr. Chin Hair flew toward her and contained her. Another Pachuco got the ball, but suddenly Gabe had it.

Back and forth it went until a whistle blew. Lucy shielded her eyes with her hand and said, “What? Did somebody foul?”

“That’s the half,” the other ref said. “Take a rest, girl.”

The team ran to the back of the concession stand where Mr. Auggy waited with water.

“Way to go, team!” he said.

“They’re ahead of us,” Gabe said. And then he downed an entire bottle of water.

“They should have scored six goals by now with the training they’ve had. You have them on the run.”

“We do, don’t we?” Lucy said.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Oscar said, and poured his bottle over his head.

“Drink, all of you,” Mr. Auggy said. “The second half is going to be harder. You’ll get tired — ”

And we don’t have J.J. He never seemed to get tired. And he could fake like no other. And he had that great slider. Lucy blinked away surprising tears. He was probably ripping his sheet curtains to shreds by now.

“Hey, Mr. Auggy.”

Lucy looked at Gabe, who was peering around the side of the concession stand. People were lined up for Pasco’s funnel cakes, and Gabe was weaving his head around trying to see between them. “You seen my dad?”

“He was here,” Mr. Auggy said. “He had to go take care of something. He’ll be back.”

“Who’s breakin’ the law today?” Oscar said. “Everybody’s here.”

Everybody except J.J. and his family. Lucy forced herself not to think about it. God was going to have to untie that knot.

The whistle blew, and Mr. Auggy gathered the team for one more pep talk. Everyone nodded and grinned.

“We’re gonna score,” Gabe said.

They gave a Dream cheer and headed for the field. They were all in formation for the kickoff when the whistle blew again.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy said.

The officials ran over to Mr. Auggy and the other coach and bent their heads together.

“Hey — you.”

Lucy glanced over at Mr. Chin Hair. “Me?”

“Yeah, Bossy Chick.”

He edged closer. Lucy stayed where she was and counted the fuzzy whiskers.

“Just a little heads-up,” he said.

“What?”