What do those idiots know? Ava asked herself as she changed in the girls’ locker room. She desperately wished Alex was here to analyze that weird conversation. Alex knew so much more about the strange things boys said.
WHERE ARE YOU? she texted her twin.
INTENSE COUNCIL MTG!!! Alex responded.
Ava knew how wrapped up in student government her sister got. She’d have to wait to talk with Alex at home. Just play your game. She repeated her dad’s advice as she stepped into the afternoon sunshine and joined the line of players for warm-ups. Corey and Xander were probably trying to rile me up.
Together the team touched their toes and lunged to the sides. After high-knee jogging and hurdle stretches, they dropped for thirty push-ups and a series of sit-ups. Ava put every ounce of energy into stretching and loosening her muscles. Only when they moved on to sprints did she finally dare to look Owen’s way.
He was staring at her.
She upped her speed and glanced back at him once more. His eyes held a glassy, dreamy look while he watched her run.
Yikes! Ava wanted to race right off the field.
She finished her turn and bent over to catch her breath, her hands resting on her thighs. She wondered what to do. Then she noticed Coach Kenerson watching Owen . . . watching her.
He frowned, as late to the party as she was, suddenly realizing where Owen’s attention had been all week. His head turned from Owen to her and back again, silently calculating what to do.
Ava held her breath. She hoped he wouldn’t embarrass Owen in front of the team.
He blew his whistle. “Sackett, head to the far end with Coach MacDonald to work on kicking drills. Everyone else with me and Coach D’Annolfo.”
“Just me?” Ava asked. Usually all the kids who played kicker—she, Xander, and Bryce Hobson—practiced together.
“Yes,” Coach K grunted, then turned his back.
Ava jogged down to the goalpost where Coach MacDonald waited. She was being banished, she realized. Kept apart from the team, and specifically from Owen. Out of his sight.
It wasn’t fair, she knew, but she could deal with it. Besides, having a private session was helpful. Ava tried her hardest to improve her kicks. More loft. More distance. Better follow-through. The team’s voices floated her way between kicks.
“You’re hitting the ball cleanly. Let’s try a quality kick.” Coach MacDonald held the ball at the thirty yard line.
At the other end of the field, Coach K barked at the team to run a sidelines-catching drill.
Ava focused on her own kick, although she could clearly hear Corey shouting commands. She took three steps away, then approached at game speed. Her eyes never left Coach MacDonald’s fingers, as she let her shoulders lead her through the ball. Her foot connected and the ball soared gracefully between the two goalposts.
A chorus of groans rose up from the other end of the field. Ava twisted in time to see Owen fumble Corey’s pass. He stood, gazing instead at her field goal.
“Rooney!” Coach K did not mask his anger. “Sprints on the bleachers. Now!”
“How many?” Owen asked, his voice barely audible to Ava.
“As many as it takes for you to focus on the ball in front of you! Think about that while you run!” Coach K sputtered.
With a sinking sensation, Ava realized Owen once again had messed up because of her. Even all the way down the field, his attention had been on her kick.
“There goes this Saturday’s game, too,” Coach MacDonald muttered softly.
Owen’s cleats clattered as he ascended the metal bleachers. Several players turned toward Ava. Were they giving her dirty looks? She couldn’t be sure from so far away.
She didn’t know what to think. She’d never had a boy so openly interested in her. It was kind of flattering, even though she didn’t like him in that way. Or at least it would be flattering, if he could catch the ball at the same time.
She desperately needed to talk to Alex. She had to put a stop to this—or soon Coach K and the whole team would blame her.
After practice ended, Ava hurried into the locker room, for once glad to be away from the team. She peeled off her jersey and put on the outfit she’d worn to school. Jeans, a gray Boston Celtics T-shirt, and her green high-top Converses. Her T-shirts often featured a sports team, although she did have some solid ones. Alex called those her “feeble attempt at fashion.” Ava didn’t care. Comfort was key. Listening in class was tricky enough without wearing a little skirt or lace-trimmed tank like Alex did.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Ava grabbed her backpack and raced out the door. The sports late bus left promptly at five p.m. Missing it meant calling her mom for a ride, or walking a few miles, and she didn’t want to do either. Her mom was crunched this week with all her new orders, and Ava was tired.
“Hey!”
“Oh, hey!” Ava nearly collided with Owen outside the girls’ locker room.
“That was a really great kick,” he said quickly. His cheeks were rosy from the sprints up and down the bleachers.
“Uh, thanks.” Ava scanned the empty hallway. Everyone else must have run for the bus.
“Listen, uh . . . I was wondering . . .” Owen paused and stared at his feet. Ava smelled that musky, chocolate-tinged deodorant all the boys sprayed over themselves.
An awkward silence hung over them. Ava debated saying something about the practice, about him staring at her, but she couldn’t piece together any words. Maybe she should bring up Kylie or that fantasy site they were on.
“Are you walking home?” Owen finally blurted out. His eyes stayed trained on his sneakers.
“No, I usually take the late bus. I live pretty far. Why?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah, well, I walk and I—I—I wanted to, well, uh . . . ,” he stammered. The rosiness from his cheeks crept down his neck.
A loud buzz blared over the loudspeakers. The final call for the bus.
Ava gulped. “Listen, I really need to—”
“I just wanted . . . I mean, if it’s okay . . . I thought—”
“Sorry, but I have to go.” Ava took off down the hall at top speed. “Sorry!” she called again over her shoulder.
Ava had to make the bus—she couldn’t wait any longer for him to get out whatever he was trying to say. And truthfully, a big part of her didn’t want to hear it. From all his stuttering and blushing, she was now sure Owen liked her.
She had no idea what to do about that.
“What’s for dinner?” Alex asked, entering the kitchen that night. She’d gone to the library with Chloe after the meeting, and Chloe’s mom had just driven her home.
Tommy’s textbooks and notebook paper covered the kitchen table. “No idea,” he mumbled. “Big history test tomorrow.”
“I’m starving,” their dad announced, coming in behind Alex.
“Me too,” Ava added, trailing behind him. Her hair, wet from the shower, was wrapped in a yellow towel. “Where’s Mom?”
“I’m here! I’m here!” Mrs. Sackett raced through the back door.
“Ew! What’s in your hair?” Alex cried. She guided her mom to the microwave, using the glass door as a mirror.
“Oh!” Her mom’s fingers brushed the thick gray clumps. “What else? Clay.”
“You look really tired.” Alex noticed the dark circles under her glassy eyes. “Maybe you should—”
“What about food?” Tommy asked. “My stomach is telling me it’s time to refuel.”
Figures, Alex thought, looking up at the clock. Her brother’s stomach was better than an alarm. The family tried to eat together at six o’clock every night.
And now it was ten minutes after six.
“Right, dinner,” their mom said, as if this were a surprising idea. She opened the refrigerator and studied the contents.
Alex peered around her shoulder. Pretty slim pickings. Unless they were having a meal of condiments, cheese, and a wrinkled red pepper.
“There must be something in the freezer.” Her mom pulled open the bottom drawer.
“Everything’s frozen,” Alex said. Her mom usually had casseroles or stews ready for dinner, but she’d been at her potter’s wheel all weekend. They’d barely seen her.
“Michael, I wish you had gone to the market this weekend,” Mrs. Sackett said, eyeing her husband.
“It’s football season, Laur, you know that,” he replied.
“The game was Friday night,” her mother pointed out.
“And on Saturday I started preparing for this week’s game. This is a big one coming up. The Cleary Titans. Besides, you didn’t tell me to go to the market,” he protested.
“I need to tell you? You could figure it out too.”
“You can’t blame me. Maybe you’re in over your head with these orders—”
“I’m not in over my head!” her mom shot back. “I’ve got it all covered.”
“Actually, I think it’s covered you. The pottery, that is,” Tommy joked.
Besides her hair, Mrs. Sackett had streaks of clay on her bare arms and shirt.
Alex tried to stifle her giggles. Ava laughed and their mom grinned, pausing to look down at herself.
Alex was glad Tommy had defused the tension. Her parents had rarely snapped at each other back in Massachusetts, but the move to Texas had been hard. Her dad was under a lot of pressure to produce a winning team. Her mom had left behind her friends and job and now was starting a new business. A few weeks ago, the first time their mom was swamped with work, they had spent a lot of time bickering, but then Alex and Ava helped Coach surprise Mrs. Sackett with a special anniversary dinner, and things seemed to get better. Alex vowed to try to help keep her parents happy this time too.
“I’m craving pizza. Anyone else?” Alex hurried to the desk and opened the top drawer, where they kept the take-out menus. “Sal’s Pizzeria delivers. Good?”
Her parents both nodded.
“Extra sausage on mine,” Tommy said. “Or meatballs.”
Alex grimaced. “You’re such a carnivore!”
“Grr! I’m an Ashland Tiger,” he growled with a mischievous grin.
Alex rolled her eyes. She called in their order for two pizzas and made sure the second one had no meat. She’d been a vegetarian for several months now.
Once the steaming pizzas arrived and the table had been set, Alex could see her mom relax. She told them about the new pots she’d created. Her dad worried over the weather report. It looked like heavy rain was coming later in the week. He hated having his team play in the mud.
“Enough football,” their mom chided. “Tell me something good that happened today at school.” She liked to ask variations on this question. Some days she asked for something funny that happened at school. Or something strange. Even something bad.
“The student council did something colossally good,” Alex said proudly. She told them about the drama club decision.
“Wait! We’re not getting the new scoreboard?” Ava asked mid-bite.
“Not this year,” Alex explained. “The drama club’s need is bigger.”
“That’s not fair,” Ava protested.
Coach nodded. “You did make a commitment, Al. You gave your word.”
Alex was surprised. “But you always taught us to help those in need. Look out for the underdog.”
“True, but I also believe you shouldn’t duck out on a promise,” he said. “That scoreboard is a big deal to the community.”
“So is the school musical,” her mom said, coming to her defense. “Schools should promote the arts. The arts should play as significant a role as sports do in students’ lives.”
“But everyone in Ashland would rather have a scoreboard than a school show,” Ava remarked.
“Not everyone,” Alex shot back. “I can’t believe you, Ave. I thought you were better than all those jocks. Not so single-minded.”
“I’m not that way, and you know it,” Ava said, sounding hurt. “I love The Wizard of Oz, but I just don’t agree with your decision. I think a lot of other kids will disagree too.”
“You’re overreacting,” Alex scoffed. “Kids will be fine with waiting for the scoreboard in order to save the show. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Tommy snorted. “The whole town shuts down when the lights go up on Friday nights.”
Alex sighed. The football players in her family didn’t get it. They were imagining a problem where there wasn’t one. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she assured them.
Tommy wagged his finger at her. “We’re not in Massachusetts anymore, Dorothy.”