A Whole New Ball Game (11 page)

Tommy seemed to be good at nearly everything he did. He was a natural athlete, a gifted musician, and charming. Girls fell all over themselves when he was in the room, but he didn't really seem to notice. Ava had always had a special relationship with her brother. She suspected that Alex was a little jealous of their bond, but then, didn't Ava deserve it, just a little? How much more did Alex want? Things always seemed to come so easily to Alex—she was pretty, popular with kids and with teachers, and got good grades. Ava was already dreading
the start of school next week. Teachers usually decided by day one that she wasn't a top-notch student, that she wasn't paying attention, that she was a daydreamer. The comparisons to her twin sister that teachers made were never in Ava's favor. So she didn't feel guilty if she was her brother's favorite.

There was a knock at her door, and her dad entered without waiting to be invited.

Moxy raised her head anxiously, saw that it was only Coach, not Mrs. Sackett, and put her head back down on her paws.

“Hey, sport,” said Coach. He looked around the room and winced a little. Ava did have to admit, the mustard-yellow color was hard to take in. And the room didn't look very cozy. Boxes were stacked throughout the room, clothes were draped across most surfaces, and none of her posters were on the walls. She really ought to start sprucing it up.

Coach moved into the room with his customary athletic grace. For an older guy, he still had the physique of an elite athlete. Back in high school, he'd been the quarterback and the captain of the basketball and baseball teams. He'd been recruited for both football
and
basketball
for college. Ava hoped she had inherited even half of his athletic prowess.

He gave Moxy a gentle shove to the side and sat down on Ava's bed. “Fun party, huh?” he said.

“Super fun,” Ava deadpanned, stroking Moxy. “And I didn't even get a barbecued spare rib.”

Coach laughed, then was quiet. “Have you and that sister of yours had a talk?”

She shook her head and turned onto her back. “No,” she said, crossing her arms. She was quiet for a minute. “We've just gotten really . . . different . . . since we moved here. We don't seem to see eye to eye much.”

“She's the best friend you've got, and ever will have, and you know that,” he said. “And you know her better than anyone. Alex handles change by taking control over it. Then you changed, but she can't control you.”

Now Ava was quiet for a minute.

“I didn't change to hurt her.” She sighed. “But I see what you mean. I'll talk to her. But Daddy—” She stopped herself. Should she even bring it up?

“You never call me ‘Daddy,' Ave—what's up?” He waited, his clear green eyes searching her face, encouraging her to go on. So she did.

“I'm worried about something else. Alex and I both are.”

“About me?”

“Yeah . . . about your job.”

“Honey, Alex and I already discussed this. I told her there was nothing to worry about. Besides, we haven't even had our first game yet.”

“I know, I know, but I keep hearing gossip. Mostly about what PJ's mom is saying. She's going around bad-mouthing you to anyone who will listen. She says you're hard on some of the players, especially PJ. And that you're not using the receivers and the running backs the right way, or something like that. I'm worried that”—she swallowed down a huge lump that had risen in her throat—“I'm worried that if you keep being hard on the stars on the team, your job might be on the line.”

Her dad pressed his lips together and smiled. “Ave, I don't think we have to worry about Mrs. Kelly all that much, to be honest. The other coaches warned me about her long before I even got here. She's infamous around these parts. She's complained about her son's coaches since PJ was just out of diapers, it seems.”

“She has?” Ava pushed up to a sitting position,
allowing herself to feel a tiny bit of relief.

“Yes, she has. And PJ is a good kid. A nice kid. But he's lazy. He's such a good athlete, he's never really had to work hard. It's the same thing with Tyler. So far, they've both gotten by on raw talent. But they're at the point now where they need to learn to work hard: to learn the plays, to show up for practice on time and ready to perform, and to become positive contributors. Leaders. That's going to be the difference between a talented team making it to state, and actually
winning
state. We all need to go the extra mile.” He sat back and looked reflective. “If I have been a little hard on them, it's for their own good.”

“And what about Tommy?” asked Ava in a small voice. “Do you think you've been hard on him, too?”

Her dad looked at her and stroked his scruffy chin. He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “Maybe I have been, honey. Maybe I have been.”

No one brought up the party the next day in the Sackett household. It seemed everyone would rather forget it and move on.

Neither Alex nor Ava slept well Sunday night. Early Monday morning Ava climbed out of bed and stumbled sleepily down the stairs to watch some dumb TV.

She discovered that Alex was already sprawled out on the couch. The sisters exchanged a wary look. Ava hesitated, trying to decide if she should stay. Then she shrugged and settled into her usual place at the other end of the couch. Moxy jumped up and nestled between them.

An hour later Mrs. Sackett appeared in the doorway, her hair up in a kerchief, wearing her
painting clothes. “Ava Jane,” she said firmly. “We need to paint your room whether you like it or not. You may be fine with that hideous mustard color, but I, personally, can't stand it. School starts next week, so now's the time.”

“Okay,” Ava said. “I do want to put up my posters.”

“Come have some breakfast,” Mrs. Sackett commanded. “Then the two of you can move Ava's stuff out into the hallway.”

It took most of the morning for Ava and Alex to stack Ava's still-packed boxes into the hallway, along with her posters, which were all still carefully rolled up and stored in special poster canisters.

Alex offered to help their mom prime the room. “It will be so satisfying to get rid of that hideous color,” she said.

“Should I help too?” asked Ava.

Alex and their mother exchanged a look. “I think we can do it,” said Mrs. Sackett.

The last time Ava had tried to help paint, she'd started daydreaming halfway through and had painted half the ceiling bright red before she realized what she was doing.

So Ava went to practice with Coach and Tommy.

That night, Ava and Moxy slept on the couch. Alex had been firm about the danger of breathing volatile organic compounds, but Ava couldn't help notice that Alex hadn't invited her to sleep in
her
room.

The next morning their mom announced that Ava's room was still under quarantine. It was going to require two coats of paint to completely cover up the mustard color. “Why don't you girls go somewhere for the morning?” her mom suggested. “I can drive you wherever you want.”

Ava looked at Alex. “You want to head to the pool?” she asked her.

“Can't,” said Alex shortly. “I have to study.”

Ava's brow furrowed. “Study? School hasn't even started yet.”

“I have twenty-five more vocab words to learn,” said Alex with a patient sigh. “And I'm taking pre-algebra this year; there are some sample problem sets I found at the back of our new textbook that I want to try.”

Ava shrugged. “Okay. Maybe I'll take Moxy to the park and play some basketball.”

“Good idea,” said her mom.

Half an hour later, Ava let the screen door slam shut behind her and Moxy—she was
gradually becoming acquainted with the new house, but she kept forgetting that the screen door slammed. They set off on foot for the park. Moxy strained at the leash, thrilled to be on an unplanned outing on top of her morning walk.

Ava's large sports bag bumped against her back with each step—it had been a birthday present from Alex last year, a special backpack that had a net pouch large enough to accommodate a basketball or a soccer ball. This time she had even remembered to pack some water for herself and for Moxy in it.

As they got closer to the basketball court, Moxy suddenly strained on the leash and pulled her along the sidewalk faster. Ava looked up. It was Jack. He was heading toward the park from the other direction, riding his bike.

He slowed to a stop at the entrance and waited for her and Moxy to catch up.

“Hey,” he said, grinning.

“Hey yourself,” she said back, feeling her ears get hot.

Moxy sniffed his leg and looked at him adoringly, her tail wagging back and forth like crazy.

“Guess Moxy likes you,” said Ava.

“All dogs love me,” Jack admitted, stooping
down to ruffle Moxy's head. “I can't explain it. I don't have a dog myself, because my mom's allergic. But most dogs I know just seem to decide their lives will be incomplete if they can't spend every moment in my presence.”

Ava laughed. Her heartbeat quickened a little too. Not only was he an athlete, but he was funny. It was always so great to discover that someone had a good sense of humor.

“Do you come here a lot?” she asked him, as they headed toward the court.

He hesitated. “Well, I ride by here a lot,” he said. “These days.”

What does that mean?
she wondered.
Was he looking for someone? Was he hoping to see me?
No. That was stupid. He had a girlfriend—that Lindsey person. Although Ava wouldn't have guessed Jack would date someone like Lindsey. She shook her head. She really needed to stop with these dopey thoughts.

“You brought your ball,” he said. “Okay if I shoot around with you? There's usually a game going on here—guys from AMS mostly—but I guess it's a little too early in the day.”

“Sure,” said Ava. “If you're not afraid I'll school you again.”

“Oh, I'm very afraid,” he said with a grin.

Ava instructed Moxy to sit and stay, and the dog obediently sat at the edge of the court to watch them. A squirrel darted up a tree nearby, and Moxy looked at it longingly but stayed where she was.

“Wow, that's impressive,” said Jack, gesturing toward Moxy.

“I know,” said Ava. “My sister trained her. She's not the most well-behaved dog on the planet, but Alex insisted on teaching her a few basic rules.”

“That does seem to fit with your sister's personality,” he said.

Ava wondered if she should follow up his comment and apologize to him for her sister's coldness. But it seemed too . . . personal. She kept silent.

Jack was checking a text on his phone. He bounce-passed the ball to her. “Some guys are showing up here in a little while. Maybe we can get a game going.”

“Sure,” said Ava. She hit a bank shot and moved to the next spot around the circle. “Is, um, Lindsey a basketball player?”

“Lindz? Ha. No. Strictly girly stuff like cheerleading,” he said, passing the ball back to her.

Ava's next shot clanged off the rim and rolled away.

Jack trotted after the ball and then held it. He looked at her steadily. “There's something you should know about me and Lindz,” he said.

A few hours later Ava burst through the kitchen door; she couldn't wait to tell Alex her news. She and Jack, and, later, some of Jack's friends, had played several games of full-court basketball, and she had played well. She and Moxy had jogged all the way home, and now Moxy went straight to her water dish. But except for Moxy's loud lapping, the house was surprising silent.

Of course, Coach and Tommy would still be at practice. But where were Mom and Alex?

“Hello?” Ava called.

No answer.

Then she saw the note on the kitchen table in Alex's perfect handwriting.

We're upstairs.

Puzzled, she set down her backpack and headed through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Mom? Al?”

No answer. Another note lay at the top of the stairs. She picked it up.

We're in your room.

Was she in trouble? Had something bad happened in her room? Maybe she'd left a box of tissues on the floor again, like she'd done once back in Massachusetts, where Moxy had spent a delightful morning chewing them up one by one and leaving them all around her bedroom. Her mom had not been happy with her. But that
couldn't
be. Moxy had been with her all morning.

She put her hand on the knob and slowly turned it. “Hello?” she said. Cautiously, she pushed the door open.

“Surprise!” shouted Alex and Mrs. Sackett at the same time.

The first thing she saw was Alex's face; her expression was both hopeful and nervous. Then she saw the same expression on her mother's face. Then she saw the room.

They had painted it, but it was not beige. It was a light, pretty blue. All her sports posters were up on the walls. They'd unpacked all her boxes of books and trophies and arranged everything neatly on the shelves. They'd even rearranged the furniture, so now her bed was in the corner
under the window. She could sit on the end of the bed and actually see outside. There were new curtains, a bedspread, and a rug, all complementary blues, greens, and corals. It wasn't overly decorated; it was just homey—and it was perfect.