Ava came down to dinner half an hour later, having scrubbed her face with a washcloth and washed her hair twice to get all the hair spray out. She stepped over Moxy, who was sprawled as usual across the kitchen floor, and slid into her seat.
Coach was talking about the upcoming game on Friday. “They’re deep and talented on both sides of the ball. Defensively, their corners are fast and athletic, and offensively, their line protects their QB very well. It’s going to be a close game.” He took a moody bite of his meat loaf. “PJ’s going to have his work cut out for him. He’s going to need your moral support big-time, Tom.”
Tommy flicked a glance at Ava. She held his gaze for a fraction of a second and looked down at her plate. They both knew that what Coach was saying was code for You’re not going to play and we all know it.
“So tell us all about tryouts, Alex!” said Mrs. Sackett, who seemed eager to change the subject.
“Tryouts?” said Alex. “Ow! Oh, oh, right. Tryouts. They were great.” She smiled.
Ava, who had just kicked her sister under the table, was surprised that Alex didn’t seem more upset about lying to their parents, even if she wasn’t great at it. Was her sister heading straight to a life in a penitentiary? In English, Ava’s class was reading a story by Edgar Allan Poe called “The Tell-Tale Heart.” Although usually Ava had a hard time sticking with a story for very long, this one had held her attention. It was about a guy who’d murdered someone and stuck him under the floorboards, but then the guy went mad and imagined he heard the pounding of his victim’s heartbeat growing louder and louder until he couldn’t stand it anymore and turned himself in to the police. Was guilt not pounding through Alex’s brain like it was through Ava’s?
“Was Molly Clifford there?” asked Mrs. Sackett. “I ran into her mom at the grocery store, and she told me Molly had sprained her ankle, but I’m not sure how bad it was.”
Alex blinked. “Molly? Oh! Yes. She was. I mean, no. I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t remember.”
On second thought, Ava realized, Alex was a terrible liar. She jumped in to rescue her sister.
“I think you mean she was there but wasn’t actually trying out,” said Ava hastily. “What I heard was that Molly is under doctor’s orders to stay off her ankle for two more days, so they’re going to give her a tryout on Tuesday.”
“Oh, right,” said Alex. “I forgot.”
Ava could feel her mother shift in her seat. She didn’t dare look up. Her mom was nearly impossible to deceive.
“What’s that you’re wearing, Ava?” Mrs. Sackett asked suddenly.
Ava froze. Had she somehow left the bow in her hair or something?
Her mom put a hand on Ava’s cheek and pulled it gently in her direction. “Your eyes. Are you wearing glitter? There’s some on your cheek, too.”
Ava felt her whole face go hot. She’d had no idea how to get all the stupid glitter off her face. She’d scrubbed every inch of herself, of course, but it just seemed to transfer bits of glitter from one part of her body to another. She heard Tommy snort across the table, and if she could have been sure exactly where his legs were, she would have planted an indignant kick to his shins.
For once, Alex saved the day. “I was experimenting on Ava,” she said.
Coach raised one eyebrow and inspected Ava’s face with interest. “Huh,” he said.
“And by the way,” Alex continued, “are you guys planning to hire Tommy’s friend? Was his name Luke?”
“We’re not sure yet,” said her mother. “We’ve just started the process of interviewing people, and we’re not totally sure what we’re doing, but he certainly seemed bright, and enthusiastic. And more than competent.”
“And dreamy,” coughed Tommy into his napkin. “Ow!” he said loudly. “Who kicked me?”
Alex must have been sure exactly where Tommy’s legs were.