Comment on April’s Sweet Secrets YouTube video:
You can see April’s dark roots showing. Her hair is a lie. Just like everything else about her.
I never thought I would be a soccer mom, but that’s what I am.
It’s not as big a deal as you think. At the second grade level, soccer is not that intense. We meet every Saturday morning at eight at the middle school athletic field (parking is extremely competitive). The kids practice for thirty minutes while the parents gossip, then they play for another thirty minutes against another team while the parents cheer them on.
Bobby is on the uncreatively named Team B, which is coached by Mark Tanner, who is fortunately much more pleasant than his wife, Kathy. Mark coached Bobby’s team last year too and did an amazing job, so I was pretty excited to have him again. And I was so sure I could convince Mark to let Owen Cooper join the team that I told Maria to bring him this morning.
Julie’s son, Leo, is also on Team B, which I don’t think is any coincidence. Sometimes we trade off who brings the boys to soccer, especially when the weather gets nippy. Okay, it’s not so much a trade-off as Julie asks me to bring both boys in. But I don’t mind. I like to watch Bobby play.
Bobby is less than excited to be here. He was moaning when I dragged him out of bed and wasn’t thrilled about putting on his shin guards and his knee-length soccer socks. Yes, I had to buy soccer socks. They’re like regular socks, but more… soccer-y? I don’t know—I just buy what they tell me. Anyway, he usually has a great time playing, even though it’s hard to get him here.
“What’s with the Tupperware?” Julie asks as she looks down at the plastic tub in my hand.
“Oh!” I shake the Tupperware container. “I made cookies for Mark. I’m hoping he’ll let Owen Cooper join the team, even though it’s after registration.”
Julie mumbles something skeptical under her breath, but I make the most amazing chocolate chip cookies. Nobody can say no to my cookies. Ever. Here’s my secret in case you missed the episode: I use two tablespoons of milk powder, which makes the cookies extra chewy. Oh, and a sprinkling of sea salt on top. But I think everything can benefit from a sprinkling of sea salt. I tell my viewers that they need to throw away their regular salt and only use sea salt. Toss it in the trash right now! I told them on one episode, then I stood there and waited patiently for them to throw away the salt.
I see Maria heading down on the field with Sean and Owen just behind her. I guess the whole family decided to come. Gosh, I hope Mark says yes. I would hate to disappoint them.
Maria waves to me and sprints the rest of the way over to join us. “Did you talk to the coach yet?”
“Not yet,” I say. “I wanted to wait until you got here.” I hold up the Tupperware. “But I brought cookies.”
Maria looks just as skeptical as Julie did, but she’s never tried my cookies.
Now that she’s here, I stride across the field to where Mark is talking to another parent. Mark has been coaching soccer for years. He’s in his mid- forties with mostly silver hair and light blue eyes that crinkle when he smiles. When he sees me, he gives me that eye-crinkle.
“April!” he says. “Are those for me? Dare I hope?”
I hold out the Tupperware for him. “I made them with just a touch of sea salt on top. Like you like them.”
“Yum.”
I glance over at the Cooper family, waiting anxiously at the sidelines. “I was wondering if I could ask for a favor, Mark.”
His brows bunch together. “Yes…?”
“My friend Maria’s son Owen is an incredible soccer player.” Well, I assume so. “But they just moved here and were too late to register for soccer. I was just wondering if he could join Team B.”
Mark hesitates. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to…”
“I know,” I say quickly. “But maybe he could be on the team… you know, unofficially. He could step in for kids who are out sick. You know as the weather gets colder, there are more and more no-shows.”
“Right.” Mark is nodding as he looks over at Owen Cooper. “Well, let’s see how things go today. I think it should be okay, unless some of the other parents complain.”
The only other parent who might complain is Julie—she’s such a stickler for the rules. I wonder if a discounted dress from Helena’s might be enough to win her over. Because cookies sure won’t.
“Thanks, Mark!” I say. “You’re the best. And don’t worry about the Tupperware. We’ve got tons of it.”
I go back to the sidelines, flashing an enthusiastic thumbs up. I can’t tell who looks happier about it between the three of them. Probably Sean.
“So that’s it?” Maria says. “Owen is on the team? Just like that?”
I bob my head up and down. “Just like that! I told you I make good cookies.”
Julie rolls her eyes dramatically.
Owen races onto the field, excited to get to play. Practice will be starting in a couple of minutes, but some of the kids are already kicking the ball around. Right away, I can tell how good Owen is. Even though I only barely grasp all the rules of the game, I’ve noticed there are always a couple of kids on each team that stand out as being particularly good. Owen is one of those kids. Of course, that’s what happens when your dad coaches the team.
I had worried Sean might be an awkward addition to our group, but he couldn’t seem less interested in talking to us. He is watching the practice intently, giving Owen silent instructions with his hands. It’s obvious he’s barely restraining himself from leaping onto the field.
“Sean should volunteer to coach next year,” I tell Maria.
“Oh, he definitely will,” she says. “He loves it. Even after the sports season ends, he and Owen go to the park every day to practice. Football, soccer, whatever.”
“How nice,” Julie says vaguely.
What’s that like? I wonder.
“Leo is very good too,” Maria observes. She’s not just being nice. Leo is probably the best kid on the team. Well, he was until Owen showed up.
“Does your husband work with him a lot?”
Julie bursts out laughing. It is sort of funny if you know Keith. First of all, he spends most of his waking hours at work in the city. And even if he didn’t, he looks like ten minutes of soccer practice would give him a heart attack.
“No,” she says dryly. “We hired a professional soccer teacher to work with Leo.”
“Oh.” Maria blinks. “Well, that’s great.”
She seems shocked, but she shouldn’t be. That’s how things are in this town. I might have tried to hire a coach for Bobby, but I was hoping Elliot would pick up the slack. I’m starting to realize that’s not going to be the case though.
With only ten minutes left of practice, Carrie Schaeffer shows up with her son James. That’s the Carrie whose husband left her for the babysitter, which is all anyone can think of when we see her these days. It’s courageous of her to still show up for sports practice. Especially at eight in the morning on a Saturday.
Carrie trudges up to us, looking like she’s about to collapse. She’s got big purple circles under her eyes, which probably doesn’t help her measure up better against the young babysitter. I lean over and give her a hug. She hugs me back so tightly, it hurts my ribs.
“How are you doing?” I ask her.
“You know, the same.” She lets out a long breath. “And thank you again for the casseroles and cookies. I would starve to death if not for you, April.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
She’s looking at Maria curiously, so I quickly do the introductions. “Maria, this is Carrie. Carrie, this is Maria—she’s my new neighbor.”
Carrie raises a hand in greeting. “I’m the one who got dumped for the babysitter. Just so you know.”
Maria’s mouth falls open and Julie snorts. “For God’s sake, Carrie,” Julie says.
“What?” Carrie shrugs. “Everybody’s talking about it. You would probably tell her right after I left. I might as well own it, right?”
I respect that. I don’t think I would be nearly as upbeat in her situation. That’s why I make sure that all the babysitters I hire are very plain. Our
current sitter is postmenopausal. Not that I don’t trust Elliot, but he’s already got Brianna at work. Why tempt fate? Especially after…
No, I promised myself I wouldn’t think about that anymore. It’s the distant past.
Carrie spends the next several minutes sharing her tales of woe. Her husband has been sending the husband-stealing babysitter over to pick up the kids on his days with them. It’s been driving Carrie crazy, and when she complained to him, he said, What’s the big deal? She was their babysitter.
“I’m this close to running him down with my car.” Carrie holds her index finger and thumb a millimeter apart. “Nobody would blame me. I’m sure of it. I’d probably just get community service.”
I wouldn’t blame her. Honestly, when I hear some of her stories about his shenanigans, sometimes I want to run him down with my car myself. And I would make sure Carrie had a good alibi if I did it.
Carries attention gets distracted by something in the field. After a second, I realize she’s looking at Sean, who is in a huddle with Owen, giving him some instructions. “Who is that? Single dad, I hope?”
Maria laughs. “No, that’s my husband.”
“Oh, sorry.” Carrie hesitates. “Actually, not sorry. He’s hot. Even hotter than Coach Mark. Lucky you.”
Maria laughs again, but this time her cheeks turn pink.
The game is about to start up with the other team, but before it does, Bobby separates from the other kids and runs over to me. His lower lip is jutting out.
“I don’t want to play,” he says.
Oh great. I can’t even imagine what it is this time. At the last practice, we spent the entire game searching for an open restroom or porta-potty. You would think they would have something available when there are so many young kids around.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” I ask.
“I don’t want to play,” he repeats, more insistently. “Can you tell me why?”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “The other boys are better than me.”
Oh no. I didn’t think he had noticed how much better Owen was at soccer than him. But he would have to be blind not to. “No, they’re not.”
“Yes, they are! Leo is better and Owen is better…”
I bite my lip. I can’t help but think to myself that if only Elliot practiced with him all summer like he promised he would, we wouldn’t have this problem.
“Listen, Bobby.” I put a hand on his skinny shoulder. “The point of this game is to have fun. It’s okay if a couple of kids are better than you. And if they’re on your team, you’re more likely to win the game, right? And that’s fun, isn’t it?”
Bobby thinks it over for a minute. “I guess so.”
“The important thing is to try your very best. Just hit the ball as hard as you can.”
Bobby cracks a smile. “You mean kick the ball.”
I return his smile. “You kick the ball in soccer? I didn’t know that.”
The great thing about Bobby being seven is it’s usually easy to tease him out of a bad mood. After my little pep talk, he goes right back onto the field with enthusiasm. But maybe we do need to think about hiring somebody to give him extra lessons.
“Is Bobby okay?”
I turn my head and see Sean is standing next to Maria now, backing off to let the kids play their game.
“Yes, he’s fine,” I say quickly.
He clears his throat. “Listen, Owen and I practice soccer every Sunday.
Bobby is welcome to join us anytime.”
I feel my cheeks grow warm. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you.” “I don’t mind. It’s better with more kids.” He smiles. “It’ll be fun.”
“Well… okay.” I feel like a weight has been lifted. Elliot was never going to take Bobby to the park to practice. “Thanks so much! Really.”
His blue eyes meet mine. “No problem.”
I look over at Maria, but she’s not smiling. I try to catch her eye, but her attention seems focused on the field.
I have to say, I don’t entirely understand the soccer rules. I just find sports very uninteresting in general. Elliot will sometimes watch the game on TV, and I always go to the other room. But I get the general idea. One team is supposed to get the ball in one net, and the other team is supposed to get the ball in the other net. That’s enough to follow the game. Everything else is just extraneous information.
Bobby is not playing particularly well today. He’s had a few games where he’s made a lot of goals and been happy on the way home. That’s not the case today. But the team is doing well, largely thanks to Leo and Owen. Julie is cheering enthusiastically from the sidelines every time Leo scores a goal. She’s her kids’ biggest cheerleader.
I, on the other hand, am mostly shouting words of encouragement. “Come on, Bobby!” I call out. “Hit the ball!”
He looks up and makes a face at me.
Owen is kicking a ball down the field. Bobby is near the goal, but so is Leo. Owen looks between the two of them, and I’m certain he’s going to pass the ball to Leo. But at the last moment, he kicks it in Bobby’s direction. Bobby looks just as surprised as I feel, and he fumbles as he tries to kick that soccer ball as hard as he can, hoping to make his first goal of the game.
But the ball doesn’t go into the goal. It sails into the air, right at Leo Bressler’s face.
Which explodes in a fountain of blood.
