"I am a star player." I say to myself. Well it is kind of true. I have been playing since I was little. Soccer is my only priority. My friends always made fun of me for playing it. They said it wasn't a sport. They were so wrong. It is the biggest sport in America today. I even see them at school trying to play soccer. Remember I said "trying". My little brother, Jacob Barth is better then them. He just call him J-dog. If I don't make it into the Olympics then he will. I taught him everything I know. He started when he learned to walk. I remember it like it was yesterday.
"Jessica what are you doing. We need to go to soccer practice. I am going to be late." says Jacob. He is putting on his cleats and trying to shove hot dog in his face. I just shake my head. "You want a bite." he says. His mouth is wide open with hot dog. I shake my head. I am about to throw up.
"I forgot I live with a teenage slob. How can you eat that. Our coaches say never to eat unhealthy stuff. You can not make the Olympics eating like that." I say throwing all my equipment in my lime green Nike bag.
"We are not going to make the team at all if we are late. The officials are going to be at practice today." Jacob says.
"I'm coming. I'm coming." I say walking out the door. "No eating in my car Jacob. Finish it." After I say "no eating" he shoved that hot dog down. I swear the way he eats the Olympic people will not let him eat for a month. I don't even think that will be enough. I think I will be fine. I only eat two small meals a day.
Finally I am the gym. That is where the Olympic people or as I call them the "big o" make a practice. I am in training for the team. I will be one of the youngest to get in. I didn't buy my way in like some people. I had to earn my way in. My old coach,Mr.Mc Markson, his wife worked for the big o's so she showed them a video of what I can do. I see my old coach time to time when he picks up his wife.
The only reason my bro got in is because one day when he had to come watch me my new coach, Mrs.Barlick, asked him if he played. Almost no one came to practice that day and we were doing a scrimmage. We needed someone else so both teams would have eight. He did great that game. The soccer coaches talked and then he was in. He got lucky.
The officials have to check us because we are young and aren't in professional soccer. They have to help us with are weight and how much we run. I can do both really good. Jacob is dead. "Let's see how much you weigh." says a lady in a fancy dress with heels. She brings us over to be weighed. My brother goes first. He weighs 130 pounds. "Good job. You aren't over weight but you need to have more muscles for the contact in the games." the lady says. It is my turn. I get up all confident. I only weigh 115 pounds. "You need to gain weight. I will show your coach a meal plan for you." she says to me. I am shocked. How am I not good and J-dog is fine. I say OK very unsure about myself. I thought I was healthy. The lady sees that and says " You are at a good weight for a regular teenager. In the Olympics people are going to push you down and you will get hurt."
People are so going to make fun of me that I have to gain weight. My boyfriend might dump me. I think I am over weight and under weight. I am so confused.
