Rock Bottom Girl(115)

“Ha! Loooooooser!” Coach Vince, in a Barn Owls parka and knit hat that hid his massive bald spot, cupped his hands and howled from a few rows down.

There was no way I was going to get through life without punching that asshole in the face. I made a mental note to figure out what the legal repercussions would be. Maybe I could enlist Marley’s help for another prank. The woman had a gift.

“I hate that fucking guy,” I muttered under my breath.

“My sentiments exactly,” Jessica growled next to me. She picked up her not-quite-empty chicken soup bowl and chucked it.

I watched in horror and delight as it flew gracefully through the air and landed in upside-down perfection on top of Coach Vince’s head.

He howled, whirling around and sending pieces of corn flying. Broth seeped through his hat. Every single person in the section suddenly became engrossed in watching the Buglers celebrate their goals. Not a single spectator pointed in our direction. Jessica Cicero was a beloved part of the entire last generation’s elementary school years. No one was going to rat her out to an overgrown jackass.

“Who did it?” Coach Vince screeched.

“You wanna sit down so we can see?” someone suggested, trying to peer around Vince’s girth.

While the Buglers celebrated the goal, the home team jogged back to take their positions for kickoff.

I whipped out my phone, my thumbs flying across the screen.

Me: It’s a psychological move, not an indicator of the outcome of the game. Also, your mom just beaned Coach Vince with chicken corn soup.





I looked up, saw Marley glance down at her watch, and then whirl around to look into the stands.

Vince was still on his feet threatening everyone within earshot that he was going to either sue them or kick their asses.

Marley’s eyes met mine, and I flashed her a thumbs-up. She grinned and turned back to the game.

“Coach Vince, a word?” Principal Eccles managed to look stern in a blue puffy jacket and blue painted face.

“Ooooooh,” the crowd crooned as Coach Vince marched off for some much-needed disciplinary action.

I fist-bumped Jessica and turned my attention back to the field.

The Barn Owls didn’t appear to be too rattled by the early goal, and to Marley’s credit, neither did she. In fact, she seemed even calmer now. The team lined up for the kickoff, and I noticed the front line was looking at Marley.

She held up two fingers, and the girls nodded.

“That’s my girl,” I said under my breath.

Natalee tapped the ball with the outside of her foot to Libby and took off running down the field. Libby turned around and passed the ball to the midfielder behind her and followed Natalee down the field in a dead sprint. The midfielder, facing down the Bugler front line, crossed the ball to a defender on the far side of the field. Our entire front line was running into enemy territory while the Buglers’ offense chased the ball. Angela dribbled the ball out in front of her, gazed down the field, and booted it.

I was on my feet with the rest of the crowd, watching the perfect arc of the ball as it crossed midfield and sailed toward the Bugler’s penalty area. Libby was waiting for it. With her back to the defender, she trapped the ball and neatly crossed it to Natalee.

“SHOOT IT!” Jessica and I screamed together. We were joined by the rest of Culpepper screaming similar sentiments.

Natalee didn’t even trap the ball. She swung her leg like a baseball bat. The ball hit the cross bar with a resounding clang and then bounced off a defender out of bounds.

The crowd groaned its disappointment, but Natalee and Libby high-fived, their grins a mile wide. They were having fun.

“Nice try, ladies,” Vicky bellowed from her perch on the team bench.

Marley was grinning.

I pulled my phone out.

Me: You are fucking fantastic.





They hadn’t scored, but in one play, Marley had invested the crowd in the game, in her girls. And she’d ratcheted up the team’s confidence. They had a shot. A real one, and every single person in the stadium knew it now.





Ruby scored the Barn Owls’ first goal on a fast breakaway, tying the game up at 1-1. The crowd was hooting and hollering like they’d spent the afternoon drinking two-for-ones at Smitty’s. Even the guys team, sans Coach Dipshit who had been escorted out of the stadium by security, was watching raptly.

The cheerleaders in full winter gear sashayed over to the fence dividing the stands from the sidelines and Jessie J’s “Bang Bang” blasted over the speakers.

“I love this song,” Ned screeched on Jessica’s right. He bounced his nonexistent ass on the cold bleacher.

The squad broke into a dance number that made me think they’d watched Bring It On a few times. Shocked, the crowd watched as two girls backflipped their way down the sidelines. The two lone guys on the team tossed their ladies in the air, caught them, and then dropped into clapping push-ups while three cheerleaders front flipped over them.

“What the hell is happening?” the guy in the flannel jacket on my right asked in amazement.

The male and female cheerleaders had switched positions with the girls doing the clapping push-ups—could I even do one?—and the guys back flipping over them.

“Awesome,” I told him. “Awesome is happening.”