“What do you think, honey? Black or beige?”
It was the following Sunday, the day of the block party. Mrs. Sackett stood at the doorway to Alex’s room, alternately standing on one foot and then the other, to show Alex the two different sandal choices. Mrs. Sackett was wearing a new sundress she’d bought the day they’d all gone to the mall. It looked pretty on her. Because of her artistic leanings, her mom had an excellent sense of color and what worked well with her complexion. But as for putting an outfit together—she let Alex handle the actual fashion decisions.
Alex pinched her lower lip and frowned, sizing up her mom’s outfit. “Beige, I think,” she said. “The cross strap on the black ones shortens up your leg a bit.”
“Oh, terrific,” said her mother, in mock disgust. “Remind me never to wear those again.”
“No, Mom, they’re great with pants!” said Alex. “I’m the one who talked you into buying them, remember?”
Her mother took off her black sandal and donned the other beige one. “Good? I know the party doesn’t start until noon, but I need to cut up your father’s brownies and pay a pile of bills.”
Alex slid off the bed. “Hold still. You have clay in your hair right here.”
Her mom smiled. “You can take the girl out of the pottery studio,” she said, “but you can’t get the pottery clay out of the girl’s hair.”
Alex smiled. “How do I look?” She twirled a little, causing her green sundress to swish around her.
“Gorgeous,” said Mrs. Sackett. “I love your dress. It’s perfect with your eyes.”
“I just hope I’m not too dressed up,” said Alex worriedly. “I have no idea what people wear to a block party around here.”
The doorbell rang. Moxy began barking her head off. Alex and her mom exchanged surprised looks.
“Who could that be?” asked her mom. “It’s only a little after eleven. I don’t even think Tommy’s awake yet.”
They heard Ava clattering down the stairs to answer it. Then they heard women’s voices in the downstairs hallway.
Mrs. Sackett’s eyes widened. “Neighborhood ladies!” she whispered. “Thank goodness I’m already dressed!” Alex pushed her toward the door of her room. “Well, I’m not ready!” she whispered back. “I still have to straighten my hair and decide on accessories!”
Her mother headed downstairs while Alex flew around her room, plugging in her straightener, flinging open drawers, and rummaging around. Usually she wouldn’t dream of messing up her room like this. Everything was always perfectly neat and put away—things were just easier that way. But under the circumstances, she would have to make an exception.
Ten minutes later she found her mother in the front entryway, standing with a group of women, a stricken look on her face.
“You all just met Ava,” she was saying. “This is her twin sister, Alex. Alex, this is Mrs. Kelly, Mrs. Barnaby, Mrs. Cahill, and Mrs. Valdeavano.”
Alex smiled politely at them.
“I sent Ava to grab your father from the study,” said Mrs. Sackett. “Evidently the party has started early, and we are wanted down the block!”
“But first—your mother was just about to give us a tour of the house!” said Mrs. Kelly, smiling broadly at Alex. “We just can’t wait to have a glimpse into the Sackett family’s domestic kingdom. I love what I see already! Laura, I hear you’re very artistic!”
“Oh, ha ha,” said Mrs. Sackett. “I’m not so sure that translates into being artistic with home decorating. Alex is my consultant in that department. And we’ve been so busy we haven’t had a whole lot of time to get completely settled yet.”
“Oh, no, it’s lovely. Just lovely,” crowed Mrs. Cahill, as the group moved toward the dining room, which was just off the front entrance. The table was still stacked with boxes.
Mrs. Sackett gave Alex a look that said, Rescue me! Alex sprang into action.
“New plan!” she said brightly. “I know that Daddy is eager to get to the party early. Why don’t we have Daddy and Ava head over with these ladies now? I’ll get Tommy out of bed while you go cut the brownies.”
“Good idea, Alex,” her mother said, smiling at her gratefully.
“Oh, did you bake brownies for the party?” asked Mrs. Kelly. “How nice!”
“Actually, Michael baked them,” said Mrs. Sackett brightly. “He’s the baker in our house.”
Mrs. Cahill raised her eyebrows. “A man of many talents,” she said.
Alex bounded off to get her father and Ava. They were in his study, sitting side by side, watching film. Alex’s eye rested briefly on Ava’s outfit. Casual, of course. But at least she had a skirt on. Even if it was denim. And her V-neck T-shirt was a pretty pale blue and didn’t even have a sports team’s logo on it. Alex explained the urgency of the situation. Coach seemed to absorb the problem quickly, and he and Ava headed over to corral the ladies out the front door.
“Thanks, sunshine,” said her mother, sighing in relief after the group had departed.
Ava followed behind her father and the group of women. It turned out the block party was not technically on their block. It was at the little park where she’d gone to play basketball and had met Jack.
The paved area near the entrance was set up with several grills and a pit barbecue that was being manned by a couple of dads she didn’t know. Behind that was the basketball court and play area, and behind that, an open, grassy field.
Little kids were playing on the playground, and a few boys her age were shooting baskets at the basketball hoop. She looked at them wistfully, and then realized she was all dressed up. She glared down at the T-shirt, skirt, and flip-flops she had on. Alex had insisted that she wear nice clothes for this dumb party, but it was not exactly easy to play basketball in a skirt.
Her father was immediately surrounded by about a dozen people. Ava still wasn’t used to seeing him in this role. Not so much a celebrity, because they weren’t exactly adoring fans. More like . . . a newly elected president, someone people were thrilled to be seen with and to have their picture taken with, but whom most people were still wary about until he was able to prove himself worthy.
There was Tyler Whitley, who was easy to recognize even out of his uniform, as he was tall, broad-shouldered, and extremely handsome. There was PJ Kelly next to Tyler. He said something to one of the ladies, and Ava realized that it was Mrs. Kelly, and that she must be his mom. Did that explain her coolness toward Coach? She’d definitely been the least friendly to him. When Ava had shaken her hand, it had felt like shaking a glove filled with damp sand.
She moved closer. One of the men was asking her dad about his strategy.
“I heard you were installing the midline read option,” the man was saying to Coach. “Against a three-three stack, does the quarterback read the four technique, or who becomes the B gap player?”
She listened as her father gently deflected the question, trying to steer the conversation away from football.
“Tyler should be the X receiver,” said Mrs. Kelly, and there was ice in her tone. “Then you’d be able to get him one on one against a weaker corner. But I’m not sure Coach is thinking along those lines, are you, Coach? Not part of your style?”
Ava couldn’t hear what her father said in response, but she squirmed with uneasiness on his behalf. She could practically hear the drumbeat of anxiety quickening all around her. Why was Coach so hard on PJ and Tyler? Wasn’t he worried about losing his job?
“Hey!” said a voice behind her.
It was Jack. He held up a squishy green football. “You up for a toss?”
Ava nodded happily and kicked off her flip-flops. So what if she was wearing a skirt. They headed toward the open, grassy field—perfect for tossing the ball around.
She fell into step with Jack. The dry grass felt warm and tickly under her bare feet. “So you live on this block? I remember the first time I met you was right here.”
Jack grinned. “Nah, I live about three blocks away,” he replied. “But they’re not too strict about it—they use the term ‘block party’ pretty loosely around here.” He looked past her. “There’s your sister.”
Ava looked. Alex was heading toward them across the grass, her hair shiny and straight, her new sundress pressed and perfect. She really did look nice, Ava had to admit. As Alex drew closer, though, Ava read a distinctly disapproving look on her sister’s face.
“Al—I mean, Alex—you remember Jack?” Ava said as her sister approached.
Alex nodded coldly at him. “Yes,” she said. “Hi.”
“Hey, Alex,” said Jack.
Alex barely glanced at him. “So should we go get food, Ava?”
Ava looked at Jack to see if he had picked up on her sister’s coldness. If he had, he didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
“Jack and I are going to play catch,” said Ava shortly.
She took the ball from Jack’s grasp, backed up a few paces, and tossed it to him. Alex sniffed, turned on her heel, and headed back toward the party.
What is up with Alex? Ava thought. Why was she so mean to Jack? What right does she have to be so judgmental? Anyway, it didn’t matter—Ava wasn’t even interested in him!
Jack interrupted her thoughts. “So a friend of mine asked me to ask you something,” he said, staring down awkwardly at his sneakers.
Ava had no idea what was coming. She braced herself.
“He, uh, he wants to know if, uh, if your sister likes anyone right now.” Jack finished the end of his sentence in a rush and looked relieved to have gotten it out.
Ava felt a flood of relief. That was all, then. She was used to guys having crushes on her sister. It wasn’t the first time she’d been sounded out on her sister’s behalf. But who was it? Her heart sank. What if it was that guy Corey? The one who’d said that if their dad didn’t win big, he was “out of here”?
“I—ah—I don’t really know,” she said, and she realized she was being truthful. Alex seemed to like Corey, but they hadn’t really talked about it. She and Alex hadn’t had a regular heart-to-heart in a long time. She felt hot tears brimming in her eyes, and her vision misted up. She missed her sister.
Just then Jack hurled the football and she leaped up and caught it. She got into a throwing stance. “Go long!” she called to him. Whatever was wrong between her and Alex only seemed to be getting worse, but Ava couldn’t think of a better distraction than playing sports.