Hat Trick (2 page)

Now’s my chance!
thought Stookie. He raced forward, dribbling as fast as he could. A halfback came forward to meet him.

“No, you don’t!” Stookie muttered. He sidestepped the Black Hawk, taking the ball with him. The halfback put on the brakes,
but he was too late. Stookie was already five feet farther downfield and moving fast.

Now two fullbacks double-teamed him. Out of the corner of his eye, Stookie saw Lou wave for a pass. Stookie hesitated.

If I can just get past the double-team, the goal will be right in front of me,
he thought.
Then it will be me against the goalie. I’m sure I can beat him!

He decided to go for it. It took some fancy
footwork—and one little shove the ref didn’t see—but he made it around the two fullbacks. Suddenly it was Stookie against
the goalie, just like in practice the day before. With a mighty kick, Stookie walloped the ball to the high right corner.

Swish!
Goal! Stookie jumped in the air, fist pumping. “One down, two to go!” he cheered. He looked around for his teammates, expecting
them to congratulate him. But most of them just yelled hooray and started back to their positions. They didn’t want to be
called for delaying the game.

Only Lou had waited, and he wasn’t cheering. In fact, he looked puzzled.

“Stookie, didn’t you see me waving?” Lou called as they trotted back toward midfield. “I had a clean shot at the goal. You
didn’t.”

Stookie shrugged. He didn’t know why Lou was concerned. He should have remembered that Stookie was going to try for a hat
trick this game. And that meant taking as
many shots on goal as he could. If Lou didn’t remember, well, Stookie wasn’t about to remind him. To do that would risk tipping
off the defense. Lou would just have to figure it out for himself.

Meanwhile, Stookie wasn’t just going to stand around waiting for plays to happen. He knew that if he was going to make a hat
trick, he had to get his foot on the ball no matter what. He charged downfield to join his teammates in the fight against
the Black Hawks.

Dewey London and Bundy Neel were working hard to get the ball back into Black Hawks territory. Finally Dewey stole it and
sent it flying toward the sideline. Stookie took off after it like a shot.

So did Lou. The right striker reached the ball first. But instead of backing off and letting Lou handle it, Stookie stuck
his foot in and tried to snake the ball away.

“What are you
doing
?” growled Lou. “Get back in your position, you numbskull!”

Numbskull am I?
Stookie thought angrily.
Who’s the one who forgot today’s game plan? Sheesh!

F
or the rest of the first half of the game, Stookie was a whirlwind on the field. He did everything he could to get and keep
control of the ball. In fact, he shadowed the ball everywhere, straying out of his position time and again—and getting in
the way of his fellow ’Cats. More than once, he found himself battling his own teammate for the ball. A few times, someone
else had to rush to his spot to cover his position for him.

Then, just before the halftime buzzer sounded, he finally made another goal. The
Black Hawk goalie stumbled over the ball. All Stookie had to do was nudge it with his foot to send it over the line and into
the net.

Stookie barely had enough energy to leap in the air. All that ball-chasing had pooped him out. Still, he hustled to the sideline
at halftime. He was sure the coach was going to praise him for his efforts.

Just the opposite happened.

“I didn’t think I needed to remind everyone of the importance of staying within your positions,” Coach Bradley said. His eye
fell on Stookie for a long moment, then moved on. “But maybe I was wrong. So let me say it again: Stay in your own lanes.
Help out when needed, but trust your teammates to know what they’re doing out there. They’re trusting you, after all.”

Stookie caught Lou frowning at him. He shrugged and looked away. His gaze fell on the stands. There, to his surprise, sat
his brother!

Greg was busy talking with his best friend, Roger Charlton. As Stookie watched, Greg took a tattered newspaper from his back
pocket and showed it to Roger. Roger rolled his eyes and said something to Greg. Greg made a face and shoved the paper back
in his pocket.

Stookie’s heart pounded. His brother had never come to one of his games before. When Greg saw Stookie looking at him, he gave
him the thumbs-up sign. Then he nodded, as if to say, “I like what I see out there, little bro.”

Stookie felt a warm glow pass through him. But moments later, that warmth turned stone cold.

“Stookie, you look like you need a rest,” Coach Bradley said. “Roy, take Stookie’s place when the second half starts.”

“But Coach—” Stookie started to protest. A withering look from the coach silenced him. So when the second half started a moment
later, Stookie sat on the bench. He had to
watch as Roy Boswick took position at center midfield. A substitute striker!

When the action started, Stookie sneaked a peek up at the stands. He hoped his brother was watching the game and not looking
at him. He needn’t have worried.

Roger was still in the bleachers, but Greg was nowhere in sight.

T
he Soccer ’Cats wound up winning the game against the Black Hawks, 3-0. Roy had scored the third goal on an assist from Lou.

“That goal should have been mine,” Stookie grumbled to Lou after the game. “Can you believe the coach took me out?”

Lou was taking off his soccer shoes and putting on his regular sneakers. He shot Stookie a look of disbelief.

“What?” said Stookie.

Lou just shook his head, gathered up his
soccer shoes, and walked away. Stookie walked home by himself.

At dinner that night, Stookie waited for Greg to say something about the game. But Greg was silent except to ask if Stookie
had ever made it back into action. Stookie mumbled a no, and Greg shook his head sadly. Stookie could guess what his brother
was thinking:
That’s no way to get a hat trick, now, is it?
The thought made him turn beet-red. So he tried not to think about it.

The next day, the sun shone bright and there was a cool breeze. It was perfect soccer weather. After breakfast, Stookie called
Lou.

“Hey, buddy, want to kick the ball around for a while?” he asked cheerfully.

There was silence on the other end. Then Lou said, “Uh, I can’t today. My mom, um, needs me to stick around the house this
morning.”

“All morning?” Stookie asked. “Well, what about later?”

Lou mumbled something about yard work and said he had to go. Stookie hung up the phone, puzzled.

Oh, well,
he thought, walking from the kitchen to the garage.
Guess I’ll go for a bike ride instead. Maybe I’ll run into someone who
can
play.
He wheeled his bike outside, slung a leg over, and took off. He headed for the nearby bike path.

For half an hour he rode the bike path. He passed some older folks out walking and some kids he recognized from school, but
no one from the Soccer ’Cats team. Finally, he turned back.

On his way home he decided to ride past the soccer field. Maybe one of his teammates was there and would want to kick the
ball around.

As he pedaled up to the field, he could see that there
were
kids there—a lot of them. In
fact, it looked as if there was a game of three-on-three going on. He picked out Dale Tuget, Alan Minter, the Gaddy twins,
Jerry Dinh—and Lou.

Stookie stared with disbelief.
Guess his mom didn’t need him all morning after all,
he thought.

He refused to consider the other explanation: that Lou had lied to him because he didn’t want to play soccer with him. Quickly,
before any of the ’Cats could see him, Stookie jumped back on his bike and rode away.

S
tookie coasted into his driveway. He wheeled his bike back into the garage and hung his safety helmet over the handlebars.
The day was still bright and sunny, but Stookie’s good mood was gone. He felt as dark and gloomy as the inside of the garage.