On Tuesday after practice, Coach Kenerson gathered the team together and told them to take a knee. Ava felt her stomach coil up like a tightly wound spring. She knew what was coming.
“I talked to the Briar Ridge athletic director,” said Coach K, vigorously polishing his sunglasses. “And I’m afraid I have some disappointing news.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd of players.
“Briar Ridge has, ah . . . Briar Ridge will not be playing us on Saturday.”
A loud cry of protest erupted.
Coach K raised his hands to quiet them. “I know. It’s disappointing. It seems that the Briar Ridge administration has chosen to listen to a small but very vocal minority of parents who are concerned about playing us.”
“Why?” demanded Xander Browning. “Are they afraid we’ll wallop them?” He rammed his ham-size fist into his palm menacingly.
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s, ah, about, ah, playing against a team with, ah . . .” Coach K stopped and looked to the right and to the left, but his assistant coaches suddenly became fascinated by their own shoes.
Ava felt everyone’s eyes on her. Her face burned. She wanted to put her helmet back on, but that would be too obvious. She, too, stared at the ground. An ant was crawling across her cleat, and she concentrated on its wobbly route between her laces.
Coach K didn’t have to finish his sentence. Everyone knew why Briar Ridge had chosen to forfeit the game.
Corey was the first to respond. “Okay, fine,” he said. “We’ll take the win, and they’ll forfeit. Not our problem.”
“It stinks that we don’t get to play them,” said Kal Tippett. “I was really looking forward to getting revenge for last year’s game. Now they’ll be able to keep bragging about how they beat us for a whole ’nother year.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
“Hey! What if Sackett sits it out?” asked Andy Baker. “Would they play us then?”
Ava held her breath. Leave it to Andy Baker to be the one to ask that question. Ashland Middle School wouldn’t ever let Briar Ridge get away with such a thing . . . right? If they got away with it, what would stop every other opponent they played from saying the same thing?
“She’s not going to sit out!” said Corey hotly. “We need her. She’s our best kicker and you know it, Baker. Especially now that Xander’s my blocker. Besides, why should we give them what they want when they’re acting so stupid?”
Ava’s heart swelled with gratitude toward Corey.
Andy scowled. Some of his friends were talking in low voices, saying stuff Ava couldn’t hear. But she knew they thought she ought to volunteer to sit out the game.
“Sackett’s not sitting out. That’s not going to happen, Baker,” Coach K chimed in. “Our administration is behind us the whole way. We play with Sackett, or we don’t play. That’s final.”
Ava stared harder at the ground. Now the ant was crawling toward her helmet, which was on the ground next to her. It must look like the Superdome to the ant. What if Andy was right? It did seem dumb to make her whole team lose out on the opportunity to play a game they’d been looking forward to for so long. But her whole life she’d been taught to stand up for herself. She wished her dad were here to talk this over with her. She decided to stay quiet.
No one said anything to her as they walked toward the locker rooms. The whole team was somber, their disappointment palpable.
Practice had run late, so Ava had the girls’ locker room all to herself. She’d miss the late bus if she didn’t hustle, but she didn’t care. She’d walk. She didn’t feel like seeing or talking to anyone right now.
Dinner wasn’t quite ready, so Alex checked her e-mail for the fifth time in five minutes. She’d sent Marcy Maxon her story ideas and was waiting to hear what her response would be. She’d been nervous to send the e-mail—Emily was right, Marcy Maxon was somewhat of a celebrity in Ashland. She was supersmart and super stylish, with blond hair and perfect skin, and a big, Broadway-style voice that was tinged with a Texas accent.
Finally her laptop dinged. She had a message from Marcy!
These ideas are not working for me, Alexandra. A feature about a day in the life of a seventh-grade class president doesn’t have the heartstring appeal I’m looking for. And your community service organizing to fund the new scoreboard is on the right track, but it’s already happened. We would have nothing to work with visually.
Give me a good human-interest story. Focus on the Sackett family. That will attract a wide viewership. Yours is a high-profile last name. Don’t you have a sister who plays football? Work that angle. Remember: A good reporter has to make sacrifices, Alexandra.
The first sentence stung. Television people could be so abrupt! What did Marcy Maxon even mean? Alex had been so sure one of her ideas would appeal to her, but it seemed like nothing did. And a story about Ava? Been there, done that. Yes, it was cool that Ava was the first-ever girl to play for the AMS team, but the media frenzy was over. Now she was just a player like everyone else. There was no controversy anymore. Everyone had accepted that a girl was on the team. Alex sighed. She was never going to think of something.
By the time Ava got home, dinner was on the table. Tommy, Alex, and Mrs. Sackett had already started eating. Ava stepped over Moxy, washed her hands at the sink, and slid into her seat. “Sorry I’m late,” she mumbled. “Where’s Coach?”
Mrs. Sackett grimaced. “He said he’d be home late again,” she said. “That’s the life of a big-time Texas football coach.”
Ava’s heart sank. She had hoped to be able to talk to her dad about her football situation. He always seemed to make her feel better, no matter what the problem was.
“Saw him in a powwow with Coach Byron and the others on my way out,” said Tommy, pouring himself another huge glass of milk.
That only made Ava feel more anxious. Was Coach Byron going to get fired? Surely her dad wouldn’t let that happen. But then again, there were forces in the Ashland football program that were beyond her dad’s control.
Alex barely touched her food and seemed lost in thought, drumming her fingers on the table.
“Al’s bumming,” said Tommy, plopping a gigantic pile of roasted sweet potatoes onto his plate. “She still needs an idea for a story.”
Alex didn’t even seem to hear him. She nibbled on her knuckle, her brow furrowed with concentration.
“How was your day, Ave?” asked Mrs. Sackett.
“Not great,” said Ava. She took a deep breath, and then told them about the Briar Ridge situation.
Tommy whistled. “That’s lame,” he said.
“It’s outrageous!” said Mrs. Sackett, indignation written across her face. “Just wait until you tell your father about this! The idea!”
“It’s awesome!” Alex blurted out. Ava’s information appeared to have revived her.
The other three turned to look at Alex.
“This will be my big story!” she said. “An exposé about Briar Ridge School’s refusal to play football against my twin sister! I’ll e-mail Ms. Maxon and pitch this idea to her! Mom, may I please be excused?”
“No, Alex, you may not,” said Mrs. Sackett firmly. “It can wait until after dinner.”
“And also,” said Ava, “don’t I get a say in this decision?” This was the last thing in the world she wanted Alex to report about. But just then the kitchen door opened and Coach tramped in, looking weary. Moxy sprang up to greet him, her back end wagging wildly.
He leaned over and kissed Mrs. Sackett on the top of her head, then headed to the sink to scrub his hands.
“Sorry, honey,” he said, toweling off.
Mrs. Sackett was already heaping his plate with chicken and potatoes. “Byron again?” she asked in a low voice.
Coach nodded. “His kids have a dentist appointment,” he said, pouring himself a glass of water. “He has to miss practice tomorrow, so we were going over the practice plan with the other coaches. Anyway, how were everyone’s days?”
“Ava has something to tell you about football,” said Mrs. Sackett.
“What’s up, sweet pea?” he asked Ava.
Ava frowned. Her father seemed preoccupied, like he was only half listening. But she told him about Briar Ridge. “So part of me feels like I should just sit it out so my team can play, but Mom is outraged by that idea and wants me to stand up for myself.”
Instead of reacting with indignation, Coach just nodded. He took a thoughtful sip of water and set his glass down carefully. “Whatever you decide, I’m sure it’ll be for the good of the team, Ave,” he said.
That’s a perplexing statement, thought Ava. She’d expected him to agree with her mom and encourage her to take a stand. Instead he seemed like he had barely registered what she’d said.
“And whatever you decide, Ave, I just want you to know that it’s brilliant for me,” said Alex excitedly. “I finally have a perfect news story for Ms. Maxon. I can’t wait to tell her! I mean, I can’t wait to pitch it to her. That’s how you suggest an idea for a story: You pitch it. She’s been making suggestions that my story be focused on my family, and being a Sackett and stuff, because everyone knows who Daddy is. She’ll be so psyched!”
Ava rose from the table. “But I don’t want you to do a story about me,” she said to Alex in a firm, strong voice.
Alex froze. “Wait, what?”
“I’m sick of being the center of attention in these dumb news stories. I need your support here, Al, and I don’t want you joining the other side. So, no. You have to think of something else.” A few too many times, Ava had found herself in situations she didn’t like, just because she had a hard time saying no to her sister. Her mind flashed back to events of a few weeks before, when Alex had talked her into switching places so that Ava could try out for cheerleading, pretending to be Alex. There had been disastrous consequences. Well, not this time. This time, she would stand her ground.
The rest of her family had gone quiet. Tommy even stopped eating for a moment. They all seemed surprised by Ava’s sudden firmness, but Ava didn’t care.
Mrs. Sackett spoke first. “Alex, you need to respect your sister’s decision,” she said. “And anyway, since there’s not going to be a game on Saturday, you won’t have much to report about, right? I’m sure you’ll think of something else.”
“Your mother’s right, Alex,” said Coach. “Your sister has a right to her privacy.”
Alex shrugged. “Okay, okay, fine,” she said. “If that’s the way you feel about it, Ave.”
Alex sounded wounded, but Ava tried not to let it bother her. “Yes. That’s the way I feel about it.” She left the kitchen without even asking if she could be excused from the table.