“I’ve got one more thing to share. To make us stronger as a team, and to make sure we are following the highest principles of student athletes, I want to talk about doing community service together,” Coach said. “I want the Kicks to be known not only for their skills on the field, but also their integrity off the field.”

I saw the eighth graders who had been involved in the almost-spray-painting of the Roses’ field shuffle uncomfortably and look at the ground. Coach Flores didn’t have to spell it out. We all knew what she meant.

Coach continued, “I know in the winter league, Coach Darby had some of you visit a nursing home, and that was really successful. I’ve organized a time for us to walk dogs and clean cages at a local animal shelter. I’ve sent out an email to all your parents with the details. In the future, I’d love to hear any ideas you have about how we can help the community.”

“I love helping animals!” Emma said.

Everybody began to talk about Coach’s idea at once.

“I love dogs! They are soooo cute!”

“Sorry, I’m a cat person. I’ll be with them.”

“I’m not cleaning cages, but I will walk a dog.”

“Great! I’ll see everyone at Friday’s practice!” Coach Flores called out over our voices, dismissing us.

•  •  •

Jessi’s mom gave me a ride home from practice, and when I got there, I found Mom talking on her phone while Maisie did her homework.

“Thank you,” Mom was saying. “I’ll talk to Devin and then get back to you.”

“Who was that?” I asked when she hung up.

“After talking to Frida’s mom, I gave that agent a call,” Mom said. Last night, I had spoken to her about Ashanta’s offer and given her the card. Then, to be honest, I’d forgotten about it. The idea of me modeling seemed pretty out there.

“I should have mentioned when I gave you the card, I don’t think that I’m interested,” I told Mom. “But thanks for calling her.”

“It’s your decision,” Mom said. “I’m not sure how I feel about you modeling, to be honest. It can be pretty stressful and competitive. But Ashanta’s agency seems to be legitimate. And they certainly pay well.”

That interested me. I hadn’t really thought about getting paid.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She said this job pays a hundred dollars an hour, and other jobs might pay more once you have some experience,” Mom answered.

My jaw dropped.

Maisie looked up from her homework. “One hundred dollars! You’ll be rich, Devin!”

“How many hours would I be working?” I asked.

“Four hours, minimum,” Mom answered.

I started doing the math in my head. I could buy new soccer cleats with that money! Or . . .