his right. On
SportsCenter
one time, heâd seen a celebrity trying to throw out the first pitch at a Braves game. The guy was a lefty. But the ball ended up closer to first base than home plate, like he was trying to pick off an imaginary runner.
Zoe stopped. So did the girls with her, all of whom Jayson recognized from lunch the day before. The other girls laughed at his clumsiness, but Zoe didnât. She just stared at the ball rolling away from them across the grass, eyes wide.
She turned back to Jayson.
âAnd youâre a basketball player?â she said, giving him that smile again. Jayson saw how great it was, even from a distance.
âIt slipped,â he said.
Then he jogged after the ball in his new sneakers; heâd been wearing them to break them in a little before practice.Brought the ball back to her. Happy heâd been able to say something to her this time.
âThese are my friends,â she said. âLizzie. Alex. Ella. Guys, this is Jayson. Iâve heard heâs a really good basketball player. Apparently weâll have to take that on faith.â That smile again, lighting up her face.
âIâm just not used to the ball,â he said. âNot a soccer guy. But my friends who played, back at my other school, said Iâd be good at it.â
âOh really?â Zoe said. âBecause youâre fast?â
âIâm just telling you what they said.â
âWell, it takes more than being fast to be a good soccer player,â Zoe said.
Ella, taller than the rest, said, âA
lot
more. Youâve got to have moves. And know what to do with the ball on offense and how to take it away on defense.â
âSounds like basketball,â Jayson said.
âJust without using your hands,â Ella said.
âI always thought that was kind of weird,â he said, turning to look at Zoe. âA sport that doesnât let you use your hands.â
Zoe raised an eyebrow. âYou mean the way you just used your hands so brilliantly?â
âI told you, it slipped.â He took the ball back from her. âWatch this.â
He put the ball on the tip of his right index finger and tried to spin it the way he would a basketball.
Not even close.
The ball just fell off his finger and dropped to the ground like heâd blocked his own shot.
So much for showing off,
Jayson thought.
Zoe turned to the other girls. âMaybe thatâs his hidden talent,â she said. âHeâs got hands that act like feet!â
They all laughed again. As embarrassed as he was, Jayson almost laughed with them. But he stopped himself. Maybe it was pride. The guy who hated to lose more than anything was losing big-time with this girl.
Just like he had at lunch on the first day.
âStupid ball, stupid sport,â Jayson said.
âSo now soccerâs not just weird,â she said. âItâs stupid.â
âI just like
real
sports,â Jayson said. âYou know, the kind where people actually score more than one or two times a game.â
âYou think you could score on me?â Zoe said, smiling again, but issuing a challenge, they both knew it. Doing it right in front of her friends.
âYou canât play one-on-one in soccer,â he said.
âOh yes you can,â she said. âEven a soccer hater like you must know about penalty kicks.â
âI didnât say I was a soccer hater,â he said.
âSaying soccer isnât a
real
sport pretty much means you donât respect the game. So why donât you teach us all how easy it is to score?â
He could feel his heart pounding now, being carried alongby this. Not just the challenge, but the fact that this was probably the longest conversation with a girl heâd ever had in his life.
âOkay,â he said. âYou win. Iâll take you on sometime.â
âNot
some
time. Right now.â
âI gotta get to