Read Falling Star for Free Online Page A

boys dribbled it toward the girls’ end, where Mr. Field and Mr. Grease stood in the goal, filling it. Toby got the ball and, with a shout of “Edison!” chipped it over them. Edison ran forward and returned it to Toby, who rushed at the goal, but tripped and fell in a muddy puddle. When he stood, Amy burst out laughing and pointed at the dripping wet seat of his pants. Steve was still standing with his arms folded and his back to the game, until the girls scored again, and Shay pleaded, “Help us, Steve.” He rushed onto the pitch and scored quickly. With the game tied, Mr. Grease picked up Linh-Mai and, while she held the ball between her feet, carried her above his head through the boys’ goal. Mr. Field awarded victory to the girls, who repeated their dance, while Toby chanted, “No fair!” He stood in front of the boys, waving his arms like a music director as they joined in: “No fair!”
    Mr. Field said quietly, “That’s better.”
    As Mr. Grease swung the van back on to the highway, the twins started singing a country song, Rollin’ up the highway, baby, comin’ home to you . The rest of the girls joined in. When they came to the words, “Just can’t wait …” Toby called, “Stop!” and sang the next two lines in a deep voice: “Just can’t wait to see my dreamboat man tonight. My hunky man is waiting and he’ll make me feel so-o-o right.” He performed them with his arms crossed on his chest and his hands on his shoulders, pretending someone was hugging him, at the same time wiggling his shoulders with the beat. The girls, spluttering with laughter, resumed the song. The next time they came to Toby’s lines, all the boys sang them with him. As he sang, Toby leaned toward Amy, rolling his eyes.
    She screamed with laughter and said, “Stop or I’ll wet myself.”
    Edison, his forehead resting on the window, couldn’t help comparing this new team with his old one. If the Eagles had just lost an important game and couldn’t afford to lose again, and had still to face High Park, the coach would have ranted at them, and analyzed everything they’d done wrong, warning them to make sure they played better — and won — next time. But all Mr. Field did was organize a crazy makeshift game of soccer on a muddy woods road in the middle of nowhere, and now the players were singing as if everything on the tour was going perfectly. He smiled at the contrast.
    The third time the girls reached the boys’ lines, Linh-Mai poked him in the ribs and said, “Wake up, Edison. Sing it,” and he joined in.
    He was surprised when the van passed a sign stating Shanklin Bay. He’d hardly noticed the scenery change from woods to suburbs. He peered around as they stopped in front of a row of cabins with an office in the middle. A flashing neon sign above it said, Bay Line Motel. No Vacancy .
    â€œWe have reservations,” said Mr. Field.
    Edison watched Mr. Field walk through the open door of the office. He saw the receptionist, a thin man in a shiny blue suit, consult his computer and shake his head. When Mr. Field produced a sheet of paper, the receptionist shrugged.
    Mr. Field returned to the van. “The receptionist claims he has no record of our reservations.”
    â€œWhat are we going to do?” asked Shay.
    Mr. Field grinned. “Follow me.”
    Edison thought of the tours he’d made with elite teams, staying in comfortable downtown hotels where the players were waved through reception. He smiled to himself again. You never knew what was going to happen next with Brunswick Valley.
    The team climbed from the van. Edison was last. At the door of the office, Steve stood with his back to Edison, barring his way.
    Inside, the receptionist was surveying the students, a worried look on his face.
    Mr. Field said, “We’ll wait in case you have a cancellation.” He