Brooke's Not-So-Perfect Plan Read Online Free

suppose you have a point.”
    â€œOf course I do,” I said. “Now, let’s go out and tear up some turf!”
    â€œYeah!” several girls cheered, and followed me outside.
    I sprinted across the grassy pitch, doing cartwheels and flips while breathing in the scent of earth dug up by my cleats.
    Coach Bly had us practice shielding and feinting (guarding the ball and faking moves), followed by three-on-three matches with another set of strikers, girls whose main job it was to handle the ball and shoot goals. My partners and I stayed on ball most of the time, and I netted a goal.
    In the car after practice, Mom and I talkedabout how it went, even conferencing in Dad over the car’s speakerphone. Mom has her own accounting practice and works from home, but Dad works for an ad agency in Chicago. He works late a lot, but he always wants to know what I’m up to and sets aside Sunday as Family Day.
    â€œA goal? That’s fantastic!” he said. “You’re center forward again, right?”
    â€œOf course!” I said with a smile.
    My position requires making a lot of goals, but it also means I have to be really good at shooting, dribbling, and keeping the ball close.
    â€œWell, good job, kitten. I’ll see you and Mom in a couple hours.”
    â€œBye, honey,” Mom told him.
    â€œWe’ll try and save some pizza for you!” I said.
    Dad chuckled. “Love you both.”
    The evening went by in a blur of homework, dinner, playing with my cat Hammie, bathtime,catching up with Dad, and then bed.
    The next morning, Vanessa tottered over to me in a pair of heel-less black boots that looked as if they were on backward.
    â€œYou’re not gonna believe this!” she chirped.
    â€œYou haven’t fallen once in those things?” I guessed.
    She made a face. “I’ve actually fallen five times, but they’re cute, right?” She lifted one for my inspection and almost toppled over. “They’re called ‘anti-gravity shoes.’” She held up a hand. “Don’t comment on how accurate the name is.”
    â€œI would never,” I said with a smile. “So what am I not gonna believe?”
    She handed me a piece of paper folded and fastened shut with a heart-shaped sticker. “Someone left a note for you in the advice box. You have a secret admirer!”
    â€œWhat?” I took the paper from her. The sticker lifted easily, and I gave Vanessa a look.“You already read it.”
    She shrugged and laughed weakly. “I thought it might be an advice request . . . or an important note from the principal.”
    â€œSealed with a heart sticker?” I unfolded it and read aloud. “‘Hey. I think you’re okay to look at.’” I lowered the note. “Well, my search for love is over, V. Start designing my wedding dress.”
    Vanessa rolled her eyes. “It’s sweet. And some guys aren’t great at expressing their feelings.”
    When Heather joined us and read the note, she agreed.
    â€œHe could’ve said nothing,” she pointed out. “But he made an effort.”
    â€œTo tell me I’m okay to look at,” I said. But I smiled a little and tucked the note in the side of my backpack. “The bell’s about to ring. Let’s head to the gym for the club tour.”
    I hooked my arm through Vanessa’s as sheteetered in her backward heels. “Ready, Lady Gaga?”
    She turned to Heather. “Will you grab my other arm? It helps to have extra support when I fall.”
    â€œOr you could not wear those shoes,” I said.
    Vanessa shook her head. “Now that I’m officially providing fashion advice, I have to look the part. Even if it kills me.”
    â€œThat’s what we’re afraid of, sweetie,” said Heather. But she grabbed Vanessa’s other arm anyway.
    The gym had been set up with row after row of tables, with banners and