Ava had some trouble finding her social studies class, and when she got there, most kids were already sitting down. She didn’t know a single person, but everyone looked up at her as she walked in. Did they know somehow that she was Coach Sackett’s daughter, or was she just being super paranoid? There was one girl who hadn’t bothered to look up, though—she was sitting quietly at her desk, reading a book with a knight and a dragon on the cover.
Ava sat down next to her, and then the girl did look up and smile at her. It was a genuine, friendly smile. Ava’s instincts about people were rarely wrong, and she instantly liked this girl, from the colorful beads at the bottom of her braids to her funky black-and-white cowboy boots.
“I’m Kylie,” she said, holding out a hand for Ava to shake. She had an interesting ring on every finger, and her nails were painted different colors—the same colors as the beads in her hair.
“I’m Ava,” said Ava, relieved not to have to mention what her last name was.
Kylie’s handshake was firm. “You’re not from Texas, are you?”
“Um, no, I’m new,” said Ava. “How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. Plus, you have a New England Patriots sticker on your notebook.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s kind of a giveaway,” Ava said, smiling.
“You look athletic, too,” Kylie said. “What sports do you play? Wait. Let me guess. Are you a runner?”
“I play football,” replied Ava automatically. “And basketball, and soccer,” she added quickly. She realized that saying she played football could come across as a little strange—after all, usually only boys played football. Then again, Kylie looked like the sort of person who would appreciate someone who was unconventional.
Kylie nodded without missing a beat. “I like that. My sister is a cheerleader at the high school, so I’ve been to plenty of games. It’s not really my thing, though. I have trouble following the rules. So where in New England are you from?”
“Just outside of Boston,” said Ava, laughing a little. Kylie practically talked at Alex’s pace!
Kylie’s eyes sparkled. “I went to Boston this summer!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down in her seat. “We went to the aquarium and rode in the swan boats. And I had my first New England clam chowder. It was sooo good!”
Ava laughed. Kylie’s enthusiasm was infectious. “I love the aquarium too,” she agreed.
Their teacher, Mr. Antonucci, clapped his hands to get people’s attention, and class began.
Their first task was to partner up and fill out a worksheet about the history of Texas. Kylie and Ava shared a computer station.
“State bird,” Ava read off the worksheet.
“Mockingbird,” said Kylie, without even doing an Internet search. She opened her notebook and started sketching a bird.
“State flower,” said Ava.
“Bluebonnet,” said Kylie. Her pen performed a series of loopy maneuvers, and a pretty flower appeared. Ava was impressed.
“Bluebonnet? Really?” asked Ava. “I would have said the yellow rose. Isn’t there a song about the yellow rose of Texas?”
“There is, but it’s the bluebonnet, trust me.”
Ava wrote that down and then looked up. “Guess I chose the right partner.”
“You sure did, pardner,” said Kylie. She smiled as she added little leaves to her flower.
Ava smiled too. She’d hardly been talking to Kylie for five minutes, and she already felt comfortable around her. Like she did with Charlie, her best friend back in Boston. She hadn’t felt that way about anyone in Texas yet . . . well, except for Jack. But the slightly twisty feeling that developed in her stomach when he smiled prevented her from feeling totally comfortable around him too.
“Have you ever ridden a horse?” asked Kylie, interrupting Ava’s thoughts.
“Not since I was little. I don’t think it counts that I was led around a corral when I was four,” admitted Ava.
“No, that doesn’t really count. But it’s a start! Anyway, I live on a ranch—you should come over and I’ll teach you how to ride.”
Ava grinned. “I’d love that.”
When the twins got home from school that afternoon, they found a note from their mother waiting for them. Mrs. Sackett would be firing at the kiln late, so the twins were supposed to prepare dinner and walk Moxy. Alex got to work chopping veggies for lasagna, and Ava put her shoes back on to take an eager Moxy outside.
Coach and Tommy arrived in silence a few hours later. Coach went to take a shower, but Tommy gave Ava a discreet thumbs-up before going upstairs. “The info session was great!” he said. “I was, like, thirty seconds late to practice, so Coach is mad, but it was worth it!”
Their mom came home just as Ava was pulling the lasagna out of the oven. Alex tossed the salad. Moxy leaped up to greet Mrs. Sackett, her tail wagging her whole back end as though they hadn’t seen each other in months.
“Down, girl,” said Mrs. Sackett.
Moxy sat, her tail thumping loudly on the linoleum floor.
“Coach and Tommy just got home,” Ava reported. “They’re taking showers and then coming down to set the table.”
“Thank you, girls, for taking care of dinner. I can’t wait to hear all about your first days!” Mrs. Sackett set her bag down and leaned against the counter. She had a smudge of dried clay on her nose and some green paint in her hair.
They heard Coach heading down the front stairs. He walked in, freshly showered and smelling of shaving cream, and kissed Mrs. Sackett gently on the forehead.
“Long day, hon?”
“Yes, I’m exhausted,” said Mrs. Sackett. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to do this full-time!” She sank into a chair and smiled gratefully as Ava handed her a large glass of iced tea. Moxy sidled over and put her head on Mrs. Sackett’s lap, hoping to be petted.
“I was firing all afternoon,” said Mrs. Sackett, her hand now stroking Moxy’s glossy head. “And I just found out there’s a PTA meeting this Wednesday and I am very much expected to be there. Plus, a reporter from the paper called and asked me for quotes about our family life.” She took a long gulp of tea. “Did you remember to stop by the vet for Moxy’s medicine, sweetie?”
Coach grimaced. “I’m sorry, hon,” he said. “Practice ran late and . . .” He shook his head. “I just forgot all about it,” he admitted.
Mrs. Sackett sighed wearily. “It’s okay. I’ll go in the morning, before I go to the studio.”
Coach hung his head. Ava and Alex exchanged a look.
Later that evening, after Ava had finally finished her social studies reading, she climbed into bed with White Fang, her dictionary, and her writer’s notebook. She opened to the first page of the book.
Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean toward each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless . . .
Ava’s mind wandered. She thought about her mom and dad, and how stressed they both seemed. She thought about Tommy, and his feelings about football. Would he ever consider quitting the team? How would Coach respond?
. . . desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. . . .
Her eyes drooped. Why was it so hard to concentrate? The text was small, the language was flowery, and the sentences were so long. Plus, who cared about the landscape? Why couldn’t the author get to the fun part, which presumably was a dog or a wolf named White Fang? Was she the only person with this concentration problem? She thought about Jack. Had he breezed through the chapters? Then she thought about Alex. She wished she had Alex’s powers of concentration.
“Stop,” she said out loud, shaking her head quickly back and forth to wake herself up. “Concentrate.”
But the next thing she knew, it was morning. She’d fallen asleep with her light on. Her book had slipped to the floor, and she hadn’t read the first page, let alone started the writing assignment.