“My mom is training me to follow in her footsteps. You might think I’m smart and all, but I play travel soccer. It isn’t my real dream.
I always wanted to dance, but I guess I will never accomplish that dream… “
I am shy.
There is one syllable in my name.
My favorite type of ice cream is vanilla.
Now you know something about me, so let’s get this story started.
The locker wouldn’t budge.
“Rats!” I said. Why did this always have to happen to me? I looked down the long hallway, teeming with other kids.
Pause — wait! I didn’t get to know you yet — so, I’m Hope, if you didn’t know already, like everybody else. There are groups of people at my school. Like, there are popular kids, sporty kids, music kids, and me and the geeks. My friends and I are tech geeks [I actually like soccer]. Is it like that at your school?
Anyway. There I was, struggling with my locker for the tenth time since school started (and we had only been back from summer vacation for three days!), when I heard the Principal say my name!
“Hope Solo! I hope that you’re settling alright,” she said to me. I knew that my face was turning red. The last thing I needed was attention from Ms. Monroe. Yeah, that’s correct, our principal was Marilyn Monroe.
Because no normal kid likes going to the principal’s office, when you leave you get a chocolate bar with her face on it. The picture is always updated. All the other teachers are mean, but not in front of Ms. Monroe.
If I told Ms. Monroe that kids were gluing my locker shut, then that would make her cry, and I didn’t want that to happen, and I didn’t want anyone to get in trouble or else they would do worse things to me.
So I looked at Ms.Monroe and said, “I have to get to lunch. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
“What about your locker?” she asked kindly. She put her fingers around the lock and it magically unclasped.
“Thanks, Ms. Monroe!”
“I think that you need a new lock, Hope. This one is very sticky.” She smiled at me. Maybe kids weren’t gluing my locker.
After lunch I had gym.
Our gym teacher was Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. You probably don’t understand.
I just got moved to a new school and it’s a school for famous children. So who am I? People think I am Albert Einstein’s niece, but in reality, I am the daughter of world-famous soccer player, Abby Wambach. My mom is training me to follow in her footsteps. You might think I’m smart and all, but I play travel soccer. It isn’t my real dream.
I always wanted to dance, but I guess I will never accomplish that dream…
After school in LA, I went to New York in a helicopter to play soccer.
It was so much work. I also watched my mom play soccer. That part was fun because she’s so good at it, while I’m only pretty good. I feel underestimated compared to how good her team is at soccer.
“Hi, I am your coach for gym today,” The Rock barked. “So lay down and do 50 pushups, stat!”
I pretended I was suffering, but actually I could do it in 30 sec.
After gym, I had biology with Alex.
If you didn’t know, I like Alex. He’s the cutest boy in school.
I walked into biology and my seat was next to his. Alex is the son of David Beckham, and he was the only one who was nice to me when I first came to the school. Even though his father is famous, he isn’t shallow like the rest of the kids.
The bell rung. Everyone filed into their classes except for me. I had to go straight to New York to practice.
I wasn’t in the mood. I wish I could’ve gone to art class because soccer is so boring. When we got to New York, my mom was ready to coach us.
My team started off doing sprints down the field.
After, we went straight to push ups and sit ups.
We started doing all kinds of dribbling techniques after that, and then we went right into scrimmage.
My team won.
After, we all went home, and flew back to LA.
I did my homework on the helicopter ride home.
By the time I got back, school was over.
So now I had to go train for soccer, otherwise my parents would get angry at me.
So I practiced till Georgia, my nanny, called for dinner. I had mashed potatoes for dinner with mac and cheese.
It was so good.
After, I got to go into my room to have some computer time.
I went on my laptop and went on Youtube and watched “The End of Time Target Dance,” by Todrick Hall.
I went to bed at 10:00pm.
In the morning, I woke up excited for dance class.
Why dance you ask?
I booked a dance class every Thursday afternoon because I don’t have soccer practice on Thursdays.
Before I knew it, I was at the dance class.
I realized Alex was there. My face started to burn up.
The teacher made partners.
Guess who she partnered me with? You guessed it. Alex and I had to make up a 30 second dance to “Uptown Funk” by Bruno Mars.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked shyly.
“I was thinking a hip hop cross, move side to side, jump to the left, rollercoaster, clap, pose,” said Alex.
“Okay,” I said, trying to remember it all.
We practiced the dance a couple times.
They finally called our name.
It went very smoothly.
We got a grade on our dance because they were trying to improve us. I got an A+. It made me feel good.
I was so happy. I had a great time. It was much more fun than soccer.
But now I have to make an excuse up.
Oh! I could just say I was at the library to keep up my cover.
I walked into my room and I flopped on my bed. I was so tired I could have fallen asleep.
The next morning, I woke up and ran to the bus. I made it right on time.
I sat in the back right seat next to Alex.
It was the only seat left.
We didn’t talk the whole time.
When the bus ride was over, I went to my first class, Spanish.
I didn’t pay attention. I was all in my own brain thinking of dance class. It was the best class ever.
I had to end my daydream, because the teacher called on me. I stood up in my chair, like I was a princess.
The question she asked was, “What does ‘muchas gracias’ mean?”
I answer with an incorrect answer. I said, “Merry Christmas,” and shrugged my shoulders.
“You failed,” the teacher said in disappointment.
After school I went to dance class.
My mom was there.
I couldn’t believe it. I was doomed.
“You, little Missy, why didn’t you tell me you were taking dance class?” Mom said in disappointment.
“I am so sorry.” I said bursting out in tears, “I couldn’t help it. Dance is my real dream! I didn’t want you to be angry at me, so I kept it a secret from you!”
“Oh Honey, all I want to do is what makes you happy. Parents like me just want to know what you like. I can help you pursue your dreams! I wouldn’t get angry. You’re so sweet,” Mom said, confused.
I hugged mom as tight as I could! I felt like I was loved.