One on One Read online

  Also by Andrea Montalbano

  Out of Bounds

  Caught Offside

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  Copyright © 2018 by Andrea Montalbano

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover illustration by Lucy Truman

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Montalbano, Andrea, author.

  Title: One on one / Andrea Montalbano.

  Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, [2018] | Series: Soccer Sisters ; 3 | Summary: At soccer camp, Soccer Sisters Makena and Val not only help Chloe build her self-confidence on the field, they also help her cope with archrival Skylar Wilson’s bullying.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017034430 | (13 : alk. paper)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Soccer--Fiction. | Camps--Fiction. | Teamwork (Sports)--Fiction. | Friendship--Fiction. | Bullying--Fiction. | Self-confidence--Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.M76342 One 2018 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017034430

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Book Club Questions and Activities

  Women’s Soccer in Brazil

  Meet Our Soccer Sisters Ambassador Brandi Chastain!

  Soccer Sisters Organization

  Soccer Sisters Roster

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To my soccer sisters: Brandi Chastain, Stacey Vollman Warwick, and Marian Smith. I’m never one on one with you on my team.

  1

  Chloe Gordon considered thirteen a decent amount of years. Take the word thirteen, for example. It’s got teen right there in it, and teens are definitely not kids anymore.

  Try telling that to her parents.

  “Did you pack that sunscreen I got you from the dermatologist?” Chloe’s mother, Jenna, called from her room. “And your blankie?”

  “My blankie?” Chloe muttered under her breath. Her mom had to be kidding.

  With a sigh, Chloe finished zipping up her toiletry bag filled with ponytail holders, acne cream, and—just in case—a few emergency girl supplies.

  “Yes, Mommy,” Chloe finally answered in a risky tone, “I packed it all. And my blanket.”

  Chloe was less annoyed with her meddling mother than she sounded. (And truth be told, she did have a special blanket she always slept with.) Chloe was actually kind of amused her mother was “helping” her pack at all. Jenna Gordon was not exactly what you would call hands-on. Chloe couldn’t recall a single time that anyone other than her nanny, Ana, had ever helped her pack for a trip.

  Then again, Chloe had never gone on a trip like this before.

  She was packing for two weeks at World Cup Soccer Camp with her Soccer Sisters, Makena and Val. Chloe had been looking forward to the trip for months. It had been all she and the girls talked about. But as thrilled and excited as she was, she knew her parents could not have been less happy if she’d shaved her head and tattooed her ears. Maybe that’s next, Chloe thought. As a reflex, she ran her hand down her long, blond, perfect fishtail braid and chuckled. Maybe not.

  Chloe took a last look at the packing list. Cleats, indoor shoes, shin guards, ball, water bottles, sweats, shirts, shorts, sheets. A book. That was it. Well, what else did you need for soccer camp?

  “I’m ready!” she called. “Dad, can you come help me with my bags, please?”

  Chloe listened for a response. Nada. This was hardly a surprise. It invariably took a few tries to get Jack Gordon’s attention, and doing so was definitely something Chloe had yet to master in her thirteen long years. She went to look for him, expecting to find her dad in his standard state: on a conference call, glued to one of his countless electronic devices, typing, talking, clicking, or swiping. He texted more often than Chloe, her brother, and all her so-called smartphone-obsessed friends put together.

  That’s because Jack Gordon worked on Wall Street. To him, his job was excuse enough to be completely oblivious to everything except whatever financial deal or crisis was on his plate. The good news was that he basically never gave Chloe a hard time about texting her buddies.

  “Dad!” She raised her voice this time. “We gotta go!” Chloe tugged at her giant duffel. Two weeks’ worth of soccer jerseys weighed a lot. Next to her duffel sat a smaller suitcase. This was one of her mother’s fancy cases, with wheels and some designer logo plastered all over it.

  Scowling, Chloe pushed it with her foot. It rolled as smoothly as a roller coaster on a decline. Inside was ten days’ worth of leotards and ballet slippers. Ugh. She didn’t want to go to ballet camp, but that was the deal she’d made with her parents. If they let her go to soccer camp, she would attend an elite dance training session on some island in the middle of a lake in the Adirondack Park in upstate New York.

  With a flounce, Chloe took off to find her father. In truth, the Gordon home was ridiculously huge—way too big for four people. There was a good chance he was three floors away and couldn’t hear her even if he wanted to. She trotted down the first flight of carpeted stairs, which were perfect in a contemporary, cold kind of way. The entire house was like that. Jenna Gordon was an interior designer. Chloe was amazed at the amount of time her mother could spend agonizing over something as minor (and ridiculous) as a light bulb or the placement of a flower vase.

  “Come on now, I really need to send this email,” Chloe heard her father say as she approached his office door. Typical, she thought. But who was he talking to?

  Outside, she could see her brother, Andrew, throwing a lacrosse ball off a rebounder. Her mother was still upstairs.

  Chloe hesitated for a moment and then knocked on the door. She heard her fa
ther sigh loudly.

  “Yes?” he asked in what sounded like an exasperated tone.

  “I’m all packed, Dad,” Chloe said from outside the heavy oak door. “Can you help me get the bags downstairs and take me over to Makena’s house?”

  Her father sighed again. She thought she heard him mutter, “Get out of here.”

  Chloe stiffened. She knew how much he and her mother disapproved of her going to camp—and playing soccer in general for that matter. They were convinced she was going to sprain an ankle, break a leg, get a black eye, and/or suffer some other rough-girl outcome. When she was young, Chloe’s mother had been a ballerina and a model. She had zero experience with team sports. The thought of her daughter’s beautiful legs covered in black-and-blue bruises was almost too much to bear. Chloe’s father had played football and did understand a bit more, but not much.

  Had he changed his mind about letting her go to camp?

  Chloe stood frozen, her hand lifted to knock again. She didn’t know what to do. She needed to be over at her friend Makena Walsh’s house soon so she could catch her ride to camp. She couldn’t walk all the way with her heavy bags. Chloe twirled her braid and waited. Tears threatened to fill her eyes.

  “Get down!” Jack Gordon said again, this time with a chuckle. Chloe exhaled with relief. She knew immediately he wasn’t talking to her.

  Gently, Chloe pushed open the door. Sure enough, there was her father, bobbing his head to the left and right to try to get a good look at a large computer monitor. But to no avail: a black-and-white ball of fluff was meowing and spinning in circles on his keyboard, rubbing up against his face, nibbling on his fingers, and jumping up to nip at his nose.

  He finally gave up, sitting back to take off his glasses. To his daughter, he shrugged his shoulders, grinned, and said, “She doesn’t like it when I click.”

  Chloe raised her eyebrows, unsure whether to be jealous or proud.

  Victorious, the little cat took one last smug jaunt around the computer, jumped into her father’s lap, and curled up for a nap. Chloe shook her head in disbelief. She still found it nearly impossible to believe that her father had been captivated and was clearly being controlled by a tiny six-pound stray kitten.

  “I guess she doesn’t like it when you work all the time” was all Chloe managed to say, thinking to herself, I don’t like it much either.

  Her dad ignored the comment, if he even heard it. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Uh, I was wondering if you could help me with my bags? I need to be at Makena’s house soon.”

  Her father shook his head. “I have a call. Karl will take you over there, and Andrew can help with the bags.”

  Chloe was disappointed but not surprised. Karl was her parents’ driver, and he got Chloe to most of her practices and other events.

  She looked at the floor.

  Her father stopped typing on his computer. “Chloe, are you sure about this?”

  “Of course I am,” Chloe said, feeling immediately defensive. “We made a deal, right?”

  Chloe’s father held up his right hand (the left was too busy petting the kitten) and said, “I know. I know. Two weeks of soccer in exchange for ten days of ballet—and whatever kind of secret sign language stuff your mother wants.”

  Chloe chuckled. “It’s not sign language. Mom wants me to do something like this whenever they take my picture.” She gave her father a thumbs-up and a big fake smile. There were two parts to their deal. Chloe could go to soccer camp if, (1) she attended, without complaint, an elite ballet camp for ten days and, (2) she sent photo signals via the camp’s daily picture blog. Jenna Gordon had read some New York Times article about how to check up on your kids at camp and thought the idea was so clever. All Chloe had to do was remember to look happy and “pretty” for the camera.

  How hard could that be?

  As if her father was reading her mind, he said, “You seem to have become quite a good negotiator.”

  “Not as good as that one,” Chloe said, laughing. Coming over to pet the little cat, she shook her head in amazement. Never, ever, ever had any kind of pet been allowed in the Gordon household before.

  But all that had changed—sort of—a month earlier.

  Chloe’s father had been working late as usual. The temperatures were unseasonably cold for late May in New York, and a damp chill hung in the air. He told Chloe and Andrew that he had heard a small sound as he walked into the parking garage at his office, but he didn’t pay it much attention. When he reached his car and opened the door, however, he turned to see a small, wet, cold kitten staring at him. He turned to go, but the little cat gave a tiny, confident meow, flopped on her back, and put her paws in the air.

  That was it. Something about the little animal’s bravado melted her father’s heart. He scooped her up and brought her home to Brookville, the community north of New York City where the Gordons lived. He found some newspaper and a box and installed the kitten next to his bed.

  Chloe and Andrew tried to eavesdrop on the knock-down, drag-out argument when their mother saw the kitten but could only hear muffled “forget its” and “replace anything she destroys” threats. Their dad had prevailed, however, and their mother stormed out in a huff, announcing that her husband was “smitten with the kitten.”

  So that’s what they named her. Smitty the Kitty.

  “Mom pet her yet?” Chloe asked her father.

  “Are you kidding?” He snorted. “It’s a good thing your mother doesn’t cook, or we’d be having kitty stew by now.”

  “Ick,” Chloe said.

  As if on cue, they both heard Jenna Gordon’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “Quick, give me that sweatshirt,” Chloe’s father said. Chloe grabbed the hoodie from a nearby chair and tossed it to him, happy to be partners in crime. He covered the cat and started to read an email just as his wife entered the room.

  Chloe didn’t bother wiping the grin off her face.

  “Well, you look happy to be leaving us,” her mother said as she entered.

  Chloe took a deep breath. Don’t say anything, she willed herself. Just keep your mouth shut for five more minutes, and you’re free.

  “It’s a great camp, Mom. So yeah, I’m excited,” Chloe said in a chirpy voice. She collapsed into a soft, brown leather armchair across from her father’s desk. She could see Smitty squirming under the sweatshirt.

  “Chloe, you know you don’t have to go for the full two weeks. That’s a lot of running and…kicking,” her mom said.

  “I’ll be fine. We do get to sleep, you know.” Chloe saw her mother raise one perfect eyebrow and knew her tone was wrong.

  Jenna Gordon was in her early forties but looked like she was thirty. She was always perfectly coiffed, with sleek hair and just enough makeup to make her glow.

  Her mother frowned. “There are lots of things we could go do together, you know. If you stayed. Shopping. A show. Spend the day at a spa…”

  Chloe refused to take the bait and said sweetly, “Are you trying to bribe me?”

  “No. I’m not. It’s just that I can think of a million better ways for you to spend your time.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t,” Chloe said. “There will be coaches from all over the world at camp, watching and playing with us! There’s nothing like that for me here.”

  “Well, it’s certainly not going to help your dancing. You know we just want what’s best for you. You are a gifted ballerina. And from what I hear, that’s not exactly the case with this soccer.”

  Chloe felt a hot flash of anger cross her face. Why couldn’t her mother just be proud of her for once? She couldn’t hold back. In spite of herself, she stood up and yelled, “I don’t care! When are you going to understand? Soccer is my sport. It’s what I love to do. Dancing is what you make me do.”

  Chloe’s mother was unmoved. “Chloe, I
just don’t see the point. If you can’t be the best, why bother doing it at all?”

  Before Chloe could spit out a response she knew she’d regret, an arm encircled her shoulder. It was Andrew, her older brother. He’d snuck silently into the room.

  “Go. Go. Go.” He urged in a low, firm voice, shoving her by the elbow. “Zip it. You’re so close. Don’t blow it now.”

  A sudden movement broke the glare between mother and daughter. Jack Gordon, grimacing. Oh yes, the claws were out. Jumping up from his chair, he bundled the sweatshirt into a ball and quickly left the room, holding the concealed cat awkwardly in his arms.

  “I’ll get the bags,” he called.

  2

  “Can you believe her?” Chloe slammed the car door, shouting at the roof above the backseat. For good measure, she kicked the back of the passenger seat. Hard.

  “Oi!” Her brother turned around and smacked her in the leg. “Chill. Out.”

  Chloe growled, “I just do not know where I came from sometimes. Our parents have to be the most clueless human beings on the face of this earth.”

  “Hey, don’t sell them short,” Andrew said with a nod. “I’d include Mars, Venus, Jupiter…uh, the entire galaxy, actually.”

  “True,” Chloe said with a laugh and a sigh. If there was one, and only one, person in the world she didn’t have to explain her parents to, it was Andrew.

  “Thanks for coming with me to Makena’s,” she said as an afterthought.

  The ride to Makena’s was short, just a few blocks across Brookville, but the camp was more than two hours north. Makena’s mother was driving Chloe and Makena and then continuing up to Boston to give some talk on butterfly migration.

  “No problem,” Andrew said. “That bag is really heavy.”

  Chloe peered into the rearview mirror and saw Karl squinting back at her. He’d known Chloe and Andrew since they were in car seats. He had seen it all, knew it all, and had the amazing ability to communicate with just an eye crinkle, a wink, or the subtle shake of his head.

  Karl raised his eyebrows. He and Chloe both knew that even if her duffel bag had been filled with feathers, Andrew would still have felt the need to “help out.” That’s because Mrs. Walsh was also driving Val Flores to camp. Andrew had a massive crush on Chloe’s teammate, which had been blossoming since he’d taken her to a dance over the winter. They weren’t officially dating or anything, but Andrew never missed a chance to “run into” Val and act like a total lovestruck goofball.