At 5:15 the following morning, Ava’s alarm went off. With a groan, she slapped the snooze button. Then she heard the rain outside and groaned again. No way was she going to practice. She turned off her alarm and went back to sleep.
By the time she came down for breakfast, well after nine, the rain had mostly stopped, and Coach and Tommy were already back and showered. The only signs that they’d been out were the dripping ponchos hanging from the corner of the kitchen door.
“Hey, sport,” said her dad, who was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Tommy was hunched over a huge plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, shoveling forkfuls in as though he hadn’t eaten for three days. Moxy was lying under the kitchen table, waiting hopefully for Tommy to drop a piece of bacon or a lump of egg.
The newspaper was open in front of her father’s plate. Ava could see the headline: RETURNERS KELLY AND WHITLEY TO ANCHOR SACKETT’S OFFENSE.
“Still can’t get used to your hair,” said Tommy through a mouthful of eggs.
Ava raked her fingers through her hair. “Me neither. Already I can’t get it to look like it did at the salon. But I don’t care. I like it.”
Tommy nodded and swallowed. “Me too, Ave. I think you look awesome.”
Ava beamed. She’d sent Charlie a picture of her haircut this morning, and he’d texted back that he liked it too. She sat down and poured herself some cereal. “Rain’s stopped. It feels cooler out there too. Do you guys have time to throw the ball around after breakfast?”
Coach grinned ruefully. “That’s like asking a mailman to go for a walk on his day off,” he said with a chuckle. Then, noticing the disappointed look on Ava’s face, he reached across the table and ruffled her hair. “Sure, I’ve got some time.”
“Me too,” said Tommy.
Ava’s smile returned. She stood up and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.
Coach adjusted his half-glasses and frowned as he scanned the article in the paper. “Everyone’s a coach,” he muttered softly, mostly to himself. “They all think they have the answers.”
“Morning!” Alex chirped, bouncing into the kitchen. She was always cheerful in the morning. Moxy’s tail thumped under the table.
Ava, who had just bitten into the apple, looked up at her sister and stopped mid-chew.
Alex had straightened her hair. It swung and bounced around her shoulders as she flounced over to their dad and kissed him on the cheek.
Mrs. Sackett came into the kitchen, carrying a basket of clean laundry. She stopped in the doorway and gaped at Alex. “Sweetie! Your hair! How—how—um, straight it looks!”
Alex flipped her hair back and smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m experimenting a little.”
“Great,” said Tommy. “Now you look like every other girl in Ashland. What is it with straight hair, anyway?”
“It’s the style now,” said Alex simply. She got a cereal bowl out of the cupboard.
Ava glowered. Was this Alex’s not-so-subtle way of telling her that she, Ava, ought to put more effort into her own appearance? Ava had to admit, Alex looked pretty. But she also looked like every other ordinary pretty girl. Gone were her glossy curls.
Alex had clearly registered her sister’s disapproval. She sat down heavily in the chair across from Ava and poured out some cereal. Then she placed the box directly in between them, so neither could see the other.
Tommy looked from one sister to the other with a bemused expression. “Trouble in paradise?” he asked.
“Can you ask Ava to hand me a spoon, please?” asked Alex.
“Ava, can you reach a spoon from the drawer behind you for your twin sister, Alex?”
Ava got a spoon from the drawer and handed it to Tommy, who handed it to Alex.
“Tommy, can you ask Alex to please not finish the good cereal?” Ava said from behind the cereal box.
“Alex, your twin sister, Ava, requests that you not finish all the good cereal,” said Tommy. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
Coach put down his paper. He looked from one girl to the other over his half-glasses.
“What’s going on with you two?” he asked.
“Nothing,” they answered in unison.
“Well, they’ve still got their creepy twin-speak going,” said Tommy with a grin. He stood up. “Come on, Ave. You finished? We’ll go out back and you can kick to me.”
Ava jumped up. Alex continued to eat her cereal, intently reading the news on her phone.
The phone rang. “I’ll get it,” said their mom, setting down the basket. She glanced at the empty phone holder and let out an exasperated sigh. “It would be nice if someone put the phone back in the cradle once in a while!” She ran into the other room. “It’s in the couch cushion!” they heard her yell, but she answered on the fourth ring, just before it went to voice mail.
Coach set down his newspaper. “Honey, is something going on between you and your sister?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Alex replied. “I mean, from my end I don’t think so. But everything I do seems to annoy her these days. Or ‘antagonize,’ ” she added. “That’s a better word. I don’t know what I’m doing to antagonize her.”
“I think you ought to talk to her about it,” he suggested. “You two never stay mad for long.”
Alex nodded. “I guess so. She’s also worried about you, and I’m finding her anxiety somewhat infectious.”
He put down his paper. “Worried? About me?”
“Yes, she says that people are paying attention to every move you make with the team—that they’re all really critical here, and not as friendly as they act.”
He patted her hand. “Honey, there’s no need for you girls to worry. People are just interested in football. For a lot of folks in this town the Friday night games are the highlight of their week, something to look forward to. They just want to hear about the team, that’s all.”
Alex nodded, reassured as always by her dad’s easygoing confidence.
Mrs. Sackett returned to the kitchen. “That was April Cahill, who lives down the street,” she said. “There’s a neighborhood block party in two weeks, and we’re all invited. I’m glad we have friendly neighbors!”
Coach gave Alex a rueful grin. “Yep. They are mighty friendly.”