The following afternoon, another sweltering day, the team’s afternoon practice ran until four. Alex and Ava had convinced first Tommy, and then their mom, that their plan would work.
“This is either a very good idea or a really, really terrible one,” said their mom anxiously, as she parked the car behind the stadium.
“It’s a good one,” said Ava.
“A stupendous one,” added Alex.
Alex and Ava jumped out of the SUV and opened the back hatch. They pulled out two large bins and staggered from the parking lot toward the playing field carrying them. Their mom followed a few steps behind.
At the edge of the field, Ava set down her bin with a grunt. Alex did the same. Both girls sat down on top of their bins and surveyed the scene.
The team was lined up for end-of-practice sprinting. It was still fearsomely hot, despite being after four, and Alex could see a lot of red faces and weary expressions. She spotted Coach Byron’s kids and pointed them out to Ava.
“Hey!” Ava called to them, waving them over.
They dropped their coloring books and raced over to her, each giving her a big hug.
“We need your help,” said Ava in a conspiratorial tone.
“Ava, are you sure you want them involved?” asked their mom. “It’s bad enough that you girls are implicated in this. I don’t want them to get in trouble too.”
But it was too late. Jamila and Shane were jumping up and down excitedly without even knowing what the plan was.
“Tommy’s going to give us the signal,” said Alex, without taking her eyes off the players in the field. “He’s going to take off his helmet, put it back on, and take it off again. That’s our cue.”
Their mother let out a low, anguished moan in response.
At last Coach blew the whistle, looking stern, and the team converged on him and the assistants. The boys all took a knee and removed their helmets. Coach began talking to them.
Alex couldn’t hear what he was saying. Probably the usual end-of-practice talk, but his expression was stern and his posture was ramrod straight, which Alex knew meant he was mad. His lecture seemed to go on and on. She wondered if he had even noticed they were there.
At long last, Coach ended his talk. Alex’s muscles tensed. She stared at Tommy.
But no, now the other coaches had to have their say. More time passed. Alex felt drops of perspiration trickle down her neck. She pulled a hair tie off her wrist and expertly twisted her long hair—curly today—into a bun at the back of her head. Ava, on the other hand, had run her hands through her hair, making it spike straight up. Alex reached over and pulled a piece, giggling. Ava grinned back and shrugged.
At last, the boys stood up and formed a tight group. Tommy stayed toward the outer edge and glanced their way meaningfully. The team let out a loud series of rousing “Go! Go! Go!” shouts.
Tommy put his helmet back on. Then he took it off.
Ava and Alex flung the lids off their bins.
The team’s tight grouping moved apart. Guys turned toward the locker room. Coach stood near the center of the group, glancing down at his clipboard.
Ava pulled out two water balloons and handed a pink one to Jamila and a green one to Shane, along with a whispered instruction to wait for the signal. Then she handed a blue one to Alex and selected a red one for herself. Mrs. Sackett stood to the side, wringing her hands with anxiety.
They’d agreed ahead of time that Ava would throw first. She had the better arm by far.
She took a few steps into the field. Planted her right foot. Stepped with her left. Cocked her right arm and let the balloon fly.
Ava was, after all, her father’s daughter. And her brother’s sister. Even Alex could see she had inherited the Sackett Arm. Her aim was perfect.
SPLAT!
The balloon exploded against Coach’s shoulder and burst, drenching the front of his shirt and a good portion of the papers on his clipboard.
He let out a startled yell and jumped backward as though he had been shot.
Everyone on the field froze. Alex felt as though all the blood in her veins had suddenly dropped fifty degrees. She heard a pounding in her ears.
A flash of green and then pink flew past her.
SPLAT!
Jamila’s balloon hit Coach Byron squarely in the stomach. Shane’s went wide, grazed another of the coaches, and burst when it hit the turf. Oblivious to the tension all around them, the kids erupted into peals of laughter.
Their laughter was infectious. The boys, frozen with shock and awe, began to smile, then chuckle. Jamila and Shane scooped up more balloons.
Alex’s eyes were fixed on Coach’s face. It was dark with anger. Uh-oh. They were in big trouble.
Then Tommy trotted over and grabbed Ava’s bin and hauled it toward some of the players on the field. Several of them reached in and grabbed balloons, and soon there was an all-out water balloon battle. Laughter, howls, running, more laughing.
Alex stole another glance at her father. The corners of his mouth were tugging upward into a tiny smile. In one swift movement, he dipped into the bucket, hauled out a balloon, and launched it at Coach Byron.
Alex turned. Even their mother had joined the fray!
She felt Ava tugging her by the hem of her shirt. She turned. Ava was smiling. Her eyes were bright with relief and triumph. For the first time in a long time, Alex felt like she and her sister were feeling the exact same thing.
“It worked, Al!” Ava whispered. “They’re having fun! And it was your idea!”
Alex linked arms with her sister. “Yep, but you made it happen.”
“And look at Coach,” Ava continued. “He just pelted Tommy with a balloon. He doesn’t look mad at us. Nice going, Al. It really was a great—I mean a stipendous idea.”
“Stupendous,” corrected Alex automatically.
“Yeah. That.”
“Ave, let’s not fight any more, okay?”
“Okay. We make a much better team when we don’t fight,” agreed Ava. “Next week when school starts? We’ll be—”
“Unstoppable.”
“Unstoppable.”
They laughed. They’d both said the word at the same time.