Double or Nothing (10 page)

The first bell rang. “You okay?” asked Lindsey.

Alex snapped out of her reverie. “Yes,” she said. “You just helped me realize I really owe someone an apology.”

“I did?”

Alex nodded vigorously. “You did. I've been awful. But I think I have a way to make up for it. So, thanks!”

Lindsey shrugged. “You're welcome.”

On Wednesday, Alex once again sat between Logan and Ella, this time on the auditorium stage. The entire school was assembled before her, a sea of faces, and right now everyone was listening to the third of the three sixth-grade candidates, a girl named Chloe Klein, deliver her presidential election speech. The houselights weren't completely down, so Alex could see people's faces. Lindsey, Emily, and Rosa were front row center. A few rows behind them, Ava was sitting next to Kylie. And toward the back were Jack, Corey, and a bunch of guys from the football team. Xander was at the end of that row, sitting next to Andy, and from the dim glow
illuminating their faces from time to time, Alex knew they were playing a game on a phone. Which was way against the rules.

Chloe finished her speech just as Ms. Farmen was reaching for the bell. Ms. Farmen wasn't kidding about timing speeches exactly. Everyone politely applauded.

“And next we have the seventh-grade candidates,” said Ms. Farmen. “First up will be Logan Medina.”

A sizable number of boys in the audience whooped and cheered and yelled “Meh-DEEEEEE-nah!” as Logan ambled to the stage. Alex was amazed at how relaxed he seemed.
Maybe he really should pursue a career in broadcasting or something,
she thought enviously.

Again, Logan had no notes with him. He leaned an elbow nonchalantly on the podium and addressed the audience slightly from the side, as though he were telling them all a confidential bit of news. “Hey, y'all,” he said in his low, caramel-smooth voice.

More applause, whooping, and clapping.

Alex saw Ms. Farmen glance down at her stopwatch and shake her head with slight disapproval.

When the applause had died down, Logan resumed, “So yeah. I'm running to be your president. I'll do my best. With all due respect for my worthy opponents, I think you should vote for me. Thanks, dudes!” He ended there, flashing double peace signs with both arms extended in a V, as the applause rose to thunderous levels. Then he ambled back to his seat and sat down, a sideways grin on his face.

Alex ignored the applause for Logan. She concentrated on Ms. Farmen, who was now quieting the audience in order to introduce her. The applause died down, and then when Ms. Farmen said her name, it swelled again, but not nearly as loudly as it had for Logan.

She floated to the microphone, unable to feel her feet. She felt oddly calm, her heart rate even, her hands dry as they held her carefully prepared remarks.

She lowered the microphone down a few inches—Logan was considerably taller than she was—and began.

“Good morning. My name is Alex Sackett, and I'm running for seventh-grade president. I had a speech prepared to deliver today.” She held up her index cards. “I practiced it about a thousand
times. But I'm not going to give that speech.”

There was a murmur in the audience.

Alex's gaze came to rest on Ava, who was sitting, quietly listening.

“Instead I want to talk today about my twin sister, Ava. As most of you know, she has been
prevented from joining the football team. The stated reason is that she might get hurt, but I think it's because she's a girl, and girls aren't supposed to play football. My worthy opponent here”—she gestured toward Logan, who gave the audience a cheerful thumbs-up—“has suggested that you might not want to vote for someone who's a—what did you call us, Logan? Rabble-rousers? Troublemakers?”

Logan gave another thumbs-up, and the audience roared with laughter.

“If that's what we Sacketts are, then I want to say how proud I am to be a Sackett.”

Now you could hear a pin drop. Ms. Farmen had set down her stopwatch and her bell and was leaning forward to listen.

“I admit that for a while I felt ashamed and embarrassed that my sister wanted to play football. But now I feel proud of her. And indignant at the possibility that she will be unjustly prevented from doing what she loves. We're all in middle school. We all know how important it is to want to fit in, to be normal and accepted. But Ava has been true to herself. She doesn't care what people think of her. She is a hard worker. She is fiercely competitive. And she was born to play the game. Anyone going head-to-head with Ava Sackett is going to end up on the ground. Trust me—I lose every time there's a fight for our bathroom.”

The crowd erupted with laughter.

“So whether you vote for me or not, I wanted to say that I'm proud to be a rabble-rouser, proud to stand up for what I really believe in, and proud to support someone really close to me who just wants to be herself. Thank you.”

She heard a roaring in her ears as she took her seat and wasn't sure if it was applause or her own brain going weirdly haywire. As if through a fog, she heard Ms. Farmen introduce Ella, but Alex's gaze was fixed on Ava's face.

Ava was grinning. So what if Alex hadn't said anything about what she would do as president and had just torpedoed any possibility of getting herself elected? Ava was proud of her. And that was all that mattered.

Late Wednesday afternoon Ava stood in Alex's bedroom, wearing a skirt. A skirt. It belonged to Alex, of course, but she knew her twin wouldn't mind that she'd borrowed it. She hadn't seen Alex since the speech earlier that day. Alex and the other candidates had spent the lunch period in the teacher conference room, being interviewed by the staff at the school newspaper, the
Cub Reporter,
for a special online election edition that would come out the next day. And after school, Alex had gone to a debate club meeting, so Ava had come home by herself. She'd walked Moxy, eaten half a peanut butter sandwich, and then come upstairs to raid Alex's closet for a skirt.

“I look like Alex,” she said out loud, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Then she laughed, in spite of the several dozen butterflies flitting around inside her stomach. Of course she looked like Alex. But in a skirt, she
really
looked like her.

The school board was holding a special early meeting at six p.m. So Coach wouldn't be there, even if he had wanted to come. He rarely got out of practice before six. Ava swallowed. She understood why he wouldn't be coming with her.

He didn't want to be the focus of everyone's attention. He'd explained to her that this was her fight to fight, that he'd be thinking of her, that she needed to draw on all her grit and determination and stand up for what she believed in. And she'd told him she understood. But still, a tiny part of her wished he could be there.

A text came in from Jack.

Hey, good luck tonight.

Thanks. I'll need it.

Do you have to say anything?

No, I hope not. I don't think so.

Well, maybe I'll see you. I'm going to try to come.

Thanks.

I thought your sister's speech was awesome.

I did, too.

CU

CU

Finally she heard her mother and Alex come in. She glanced at the clock. The meeting would start in one hour.

“I imagine there may be more people here tonight than at the usual school board meetings,” said Mrs. Sackett, as they drove to the high school. Ava was sitting next to her, already uncomfortable in Alex's skirt. Its zipper was sticking painfully into her lower back.

Alex was sitting in the backseat. She'd insisted on coming along, and Ava was glad she was here. They'd even exchanged a big hug outside the bathroom just before they'd left. Ava had thanked her for her awesome speech.

“I just hope I lose to Ella, not Logan,” Alex had told her.

“I'll try to park near the—” Mrs. Sackett broke off now, as she pulled into the high school parking lot.

“Wait. What's going on at the high school?” asked Alex.

The parking lot was a sea of cars.

“Mom?” asked Ava in a trembling voice.

“It looks like they're here for the meeting,” said Mrs. Sackett. “I'll park over near the locker room area. We can try to get in through a side door.”

But the side door was locked. The three of them traipsed toward the front of the high
school. Just as they rounded the corner of the building, they heard someone say, “There she is!”

Ava was suddenly surrounded by news reporters thrusting microphones into her face. Bright lights flashed. Several people were asking her questions at the same time.

“Ava, how did you feel when you were told you couldn't play?”

“Ava! What does your father think about the possibility that you won't be allowed to play?”

“Hey, Ava! Look this way for a minute!”

Pop! Flash!

Ava felt her mother's arm around her waist. She was too short to see over the crowd of people mobbing her.

Suddenly a stern voice rang out. “Step aside, all of you! Let her proceed, please!”

It was Ms. Farmen, and she wasn't a principal for nothing. For such a small woman, she had the sort of voice people listened to. Meekly the reporters dropped away, and a path opened up for Ava, Alex, and their mother. Ava smiled gratefully at Ms. Farmen as they passed into the building. The principal was standing with her arms crossed and an expression on her face that
could cut through steel. But she winked at Ava reassuringly.

The meeting had been moved from the library to the auditorium because of the size of the crowd that had turned up. But several dozen chairs had also been set up on the stage, and Mr. Guajardo, the head of the school board, gestured to them as they walked down the aisle that the Sacketts should sit up there. Ava noticed the Kellys were in the row a few behind theirs. Of course, she wasn't surprised to see them. She looked for Andy Baker out in the audience. There he was, sitting between what Ava assumed were his parents, in the second row of the auditorium.

Once they were settled in, Mr. Guajardo called the meeting to order, and then everyone stood up to pledge their allegiance to the flag. There was a roll call of board members, and then a motion to approve the proposed agenda.

Alex leaned across Ava to whisper to their mother. “When are they going to talk about Ava?”

“I think she's the last item on the agenda,” Mrs. Sackett whispered back.

As the meeting droned on, Ava looked out at the people sitting in the audience and wondered
if they were as bored as she was. She couldn't see if Jack was there but hoped for his sake that he wasn't.

The board discussed the annual review of the district's crisis and emergency management and medical emergency response plans. Ava's eyelids drooped. They discussed a proposal for another synthetic turf field at the high school. They discussed some calendar revision recommendations for the following school year. Ava's chin sagged toward her chest. They discussed renaming the band room at one of the elementary schools after a recently retired band teacher. Ava was pinching herself on the thigh so as not to drop off when she felt an elbow in her ribs. Her chin jerked back up and her eyes flew open.

“Our next item regards the advisability of permitting inter-gender participation on the Ashland Middle School football team,” said Mr. Guajardo.

“You're next!” whispered her mom.

“But I won't have to say anything, right?” asked Ava.

“No,” said her mom. “You just have to—”

“If we may ask Miss Ava Sackett to stand, please,” said Mr. Guajardo.

The audience seemed to wake up from its collective dozing state. Ava shot her mother a horrified look as she stood up.

He looked up at Ava. “Is there anything you'd like to say to the board about your situation, Miss Sackett?”

“Um, no thanks,” squeaked Ava. She sat back down. She wished again that Coach were there.

“Would anyone else care to say anything on this subject?” asked Mr. Guajardo.

There was a brief commotion on the stage behind Ava. She turned around. Mr. Kelly had risen to his feet.

“The board recognizes Mr. Kelly,” said Mr. Guajardo.

Mr. Kelly took off his hat and held it against his chest. “I'd just like to say that with all due respect for this young lady, it is highly irregular for a girl to be permitted to play the great game of football.”

Ava's mom had put her hand on Ava's arm, and now Ava felt her grip tighten.

Mr. Kelly went on. “There's a lot of rough contact, and a young lady might get injured, and the school district would be liable. There's no call for a girl to be playing a boys contact sport,
and the law permits her to be prevented for her own good, given that there is an alternative sport offered, volleyball, which is much safer and more appropriate for young ladies. Thank you.”