Trevor’s first soccer practice
Dear Dad,
I had my first soccer practice today and guess what? Not that many kids tried out for the team and Mr. Schick said no one would be cut. That’s good news for me. He also said I have a real strong kick and would make a natural defender. I’m pretty sure that’s what he tells kids who aren’t any good, but still, it was pretty cool of him to say it to me. Honestly, only a few of the kids look any good at all and I don’t think I’m any worse than the rest of them.
He asked if I was the brother of Steffan and Keith. When I said I was, he said, “Well, if you’re half as good as either of them, it will be a pleasure to have you on the team.” I just nodded. I’m probably not half as good as either of them. He didn’t mention Rhett at all, even though he played soccer, too.
There are a lot of new kids at school this year. I guess that’s another thing that happens in junior high. There are still kids I know from sixth grade, but a bunch of other schools dump their sixth graders here, too. Like the goalie on our soccer team—he’s a new kid named Rick Jarvis. He thinks he’s some kind of superstar soccer player, but he’s only better than me because I bet he’s played on club teams. He wears one of those shiny black jackets around school and it says “Hawks” on the back in orange stitching, which is probably the name of his other stupid team. He told me he is going out with a girl named Misty Lee. She’s new, too. Is every one in seventh grade required to have a girlfriend by the end of the first week? Misty Lee is cute, I guess, in an annoying sort of way.
I had my first math homework today. A take-home test. I just finished it. It took a lot longer than I thought it would. I’m hoping it was one of those tests where they just want to see how much you know, because there was a lot of it I didn’t know at all. I’m guessing that everyone else did about as bad as me, because I was kind of a math ace in sixth grade. Were you any good at math at my age? I know you were an English major at college, but I assume you did some math in seventh grade, right?
Not that I need it, but I wish you were here to help me with my math. Anyway, time to stop writing and mail the letter. I hope I have your address right. And I hope one stamp is enough.
Your son,
Trevor