Notes on a Near-Life Experience by Olivia Birdsall Read Free Book Online Page B

volunteered. Plus, they think it will look good on their college applications. They arrive home after the first practice talking and writing furiously on yellow legal pads. They sit down at the picnic table and don't seem to notice me working on my trig homework.
    “Some of those kids suck,” Allen says. “I mean, we've got some little champions, but that kid Mason? I thought he was going to kick himself in the head during drills.”
    “Yeah, and I thought Keatie was going to kick him in the head while they were scrimmaging, she was so mad that he couldn't dribble right,” Julian says, laughing. “Either way, he needs some work.” He scribbles something on his notepad.
    “Keatie, Luis, and Chewy are the best players we've got. We're going to have to set every play up around them.”
    I start laughing.
    “What?” Julian asks.
    “You guys are acting like this is the NBA or NFL or some-thing…. It's just a kids' soccer team.”
    Allen stares at me and takes a deep breath before he speaks, deliberately dramatic. “Listen, Mimoo. You like to dance. You spend hours in the basement making up
dances
. And then you go to competitions with your little friends to see who has the best dance. And sometimes you get all nervous and sweaty before you do your little dance.” He turns to Julian. “Have you seen her do that, dude? It's pretty gross. Not attractive at all.” Back to me. “Anyway, dancing is a helluva lot more ridiculous than soccer, and you get all worked up about that. And I have been nothing but supportive of your dancing, so I'd appreciate it if you'd show me the same courtesy.”
    “Supportive? Whatever. You know you've made fun of dance ever since I started.”
    “I have no idea what you're talking about,” Allen says. “Back me up here, Julio.”
    “Sorry, Mia, I'm with Al. I have no recollection of ever making fun of dancing. Do you really get all sweaty before you compete?” Julian asks. “I'd like to see that.”
    He wants to see me sweat? What do these things mean?
    “Sick. That was totally uncalled for, dude.” Allen givesJulian a look of confusion and disgust. He shakes his head. “Whatever. Dance, shmance. On to more important things: the team. We have no name.”
    “Right. So, what do you think we should call ourselves?” Julian asks me.
    “How about something that uses your and Al's names? Like the…um, Woody Jewels or something?” I suggest.
    “Are you kidding me? That sounds like the name of a porn movie or something,” Allen says.
    “Everything is sex to you,” I say. “What about the Sharks?”
    “Okay, that's good. But why sharks? What about our team makes them
sharks
?” Julian asks.
    “I don't know.” I cannot believe they're this serious about anything. “Does the name have to mean something?”
    “Hey, what if we do a Yorba Linda–themed name,” Allen says. “Like the Nixons? Or the Fighting Oranges? What about Yorba United? Like Manchester United, you know?”
    “That's a possibility,” Julian says. “Write that down.”
    “I need to do my homework; can you guys go somewhere else?” I ask.
    Allen and Julian decide to move their meeting to the basement. A few minutes later Julian returns.
    “Hey, um, I didn't mean to shoot you down about the Sharks. I mean, that was a cool name.”
    “No worries. I don't really care what you guys name the team. It's none of my business anyway.”
    “Yeah. Okay. Just making sure. See you later,” he says, looking at me kind of weird before going back to the basement.
    First the pepperoni, then the sweat, now the apology. Julian is definitely acting strange. With all the changes going on around here, is it possible that one of them is actually good? What if Julian is different? What if he thinks I'm different? What if, amidst the absolute and total annihilation of my family, Julian Paynter has decided he likes me? Just when I have basically gone completely crazy? Or maybe it's the craziness that's making me think he