Double or Nothing (8 page)

Alex was momentarily shocked that Lindsey was initiating conversation with her. It was the first time in a while—she had been so standoffish lately. “Um, fine!” said Alex. “Well, mostly fine. Logan seems to have an entire staff at his disposal. He's got them passing out candy, helping him with posters, doling out pencils. And Ella has the public relations thing wrapped up. It's amazing how many posters she's got up, and what professional quality they are.”

“That's no fair! Hmm . . . what if we help you?” suggested Lindsey.

“Yes! Let's help!” said Emily with genuine enthusiasm.

Again, Alex was startled by Lindsey's warmth, and by her offer. Lindsey and Emily had said they would help a while ago, but so far they hadn't been around much, and Alex had assumed they hadn't really meant it.

“Wow, that would be awesome,” said Alex.

“Great,” said Lindsey. “We all have the same lunch period, right?” When Alex and Emily nodded, Lindsey said, “Let's sign out the art room. We can make a bunch more posters.”

The bell rang, and Alex and Lindsey said good-bye to Emily, who headed off to her homeroom class.

“I'll see if other kids want to come help us!” said Lindsey as she slid into her desk. Alex slid into the one next to her, elated but perplexed.

“Wait, Lindsey did that?” Ava almost dropped the book she was holding and stared incredulously at Alex.

“I know. It's crazy, isn't it? She started being nice just after I went along with a lie she told.”

Ava's eyes widened. She'd never been a big fan of Lindsey and hadn't understood why her sister wanted so desperately to be accepted by her. Sure, she was part of the “cool” crowd, and belonging was really important to Alex, but it was clear that Lindsey didn't like Alex, and that bothered Ava. Of course, that could be because of the whole Corey issue. But Alex had turned him down, and Lindsey still hadn't been super nice to her. Until now, Ava supposed.

“What do you think made her change her mind about you?” asked Ava.

Alex explained how she had run into Lindsey in the thrift shop, and how she had seen her in the girls' bathroom before the field trip. “So after I saw her in two different embarrassing situations—embarrassing for her, I think, even though I didn't have a clue why they'd be embarrassing—she's been totally nice to me. She rounded up half a dozen kids and they all helped make twelve more posters, and then she even insisted on putting them up during lunch. Why do you think she's doing this?”

Ava stopped putting in her locker combination
and turned to her twin. “Al, it's really obvious.”

“It is?” Alex looked relieved.

“She probably feels she owes you now because you know this secret about her. You know that her family is struggling, and she's a proud person, and she doesn't want it to get around. It's like an unspoken deal: If you can be discreet about all this, she'll repay you by helping you get elected. Maybe it's not totally that clear in her mind, but I think she feels she has a debt to repay.”

Alex still didn't seem to get it. Ava knew how much her sister relied on her to help interpret subtle stuff like this, so it was good that they were talking again. Ava had been feeling hurt that Alex wasn't getting behind her about her right to try out for football, but maybe, Ava thought now, it was just one more example of Alex's self-involvement. It wasn't that Alex didn't care, Ava realized. She just got so wrapped up in her own stuff sometimes that she forget to think about other people's stuff.

“That's so weird,” Alex said slowly. “What's the big deal about getting a reduced-price lunch or shopping in a thrift store? I mean, don't you remember back in Boston when Mom hadn't
gone back to work yet and Daddy wasn't making very much money and we couldn't afford to go on vacation for like, three summers in a row?”

“I don't think it's the same thing,” said Ava. “I think Lindsey has an image to protect. Kylie told me that the Davises have always been one of the better-off families. I think she wants to make it seem like nothing's changed, even though it has.”

Alex stared down the hallway as she contemplated this. Then she nudged Ava. “Look at Logan,” she said under her breath, gesturing with her chin. “He's totally flirting with that group of girls over there.”

“Whatever,” said Ava, spinning the dial on her locker. “He's—” She stopped as something fell out and landed on the floor.

Alex stooped to retrieve it and handed it to Ava. “What's that?” she asked.

Ava stared down at it. She felt the heat rise in her face. Without a word, she passed it to Alex.

It was a piece of construction paper with two cutout pictures pasted to it. They looked like photos from old magazines. The picture on the left showed a football player in a three-point
stance, one hand on the ground. Someone had drawn curlicues around the sides of the helmet with a bow on top—to indicate that the player was a girl. The person had also drawn a circle around the football player, with a slash through it—girls shouldn't play football. The picture on the right showed an old-fashioned cheerleader with her hair in blond pigtails, wearing a wool sweater and a flouncy skirt. She was doing a dumb-looking leap in the air, shaking her pom-poms, and she looked like the least athletic person on earth. The person had drawn an arrow pointing to her. As in—this is what girls should be doing.

There was no name, no message, nothing else written on the paper.

Alex looked perplexed. “What does this even mean?”

“It means,” said Ava, her voice shaking with rage, “that I shouldn't play football because I'm a girl. I should be a cheerleader instead.”

“That's dumb. You don't even like cheerleading.”

“It's a message, Al, that girls should stick to cheerleading. It's so stupid, too . . . the whole reason they say they don't want me to play
football is so I don't get hurt, but cheerleaders get hurt just as much if not more than football players do. Plus, there are tons of boys who are cheerleaders. Has this person been living under a rock?”

“Just ignore it, Ave,” said Alex. “Anyway, I better run. Emily and Lindsey promised to listen to me practice my speech.”

Ava watched her sister walk away. She couldn't believe how much Alex had downplayed this. It was a big deal. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this dumb sign and shove it into her locker while she was at lunch. She looked around the hallway at all the chattering, laughing kids at their lockers. One of them had sent her this message. It could have been anyone.

On Friday, Alex woke up with her stomach turning in somersaults. Today was speech day. It wasn't like she wasn't prepared. She knew her speech by heart. She'd practiced it over and over and over until close to midnight, and she could recite it in her sleep. She probably had said it in her sleep, come to think of it. Still, this was a big moment in her campaign. A speech in front of the whole seventh grade. They were rearranging the lunch blocks, extending them by fifteen minutes for each grade, to give the candidates for president time to make a three-minute speech, followed by a question-and-answer session. Due to time constraints, the other candidates—for
vice president, secretary, and treasurer—would be distributing their one-paragraph speeches in written form to everyone in homeroom.

“Well, now, don't you look presidential!” said Tommy as Alex walked into the kitchen half an hour later. She hadn't found a snappy red blazer, but she was wearing the next best thing—a crisp white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and an A-line red skirt.

“Pretty, hon,” said Mrs. Sackett, plunking down a plate of scrambled eggs with toast for Alex.

Coach hurried in, fully dressed and tucking in his shirt. “Come on, Tom. We've got to get going. We've got a big day ahead of us.”

“Good luck in your game, you two,” said Alex as the two of them headed for the door. “Wish we could be there!”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” said Coach, giving her a quick kiss on the top of the head as he grabbed his coffee cup off the counter. “Good luck with the speech today.” He and Tommy hurried out the door.

“Wait, why can't we go to the game again, Mom?” asked Ava, who had just come clattering down the stairs in—Alex noted with mild disapproval—a football jersey.

“Because it's almost two hours away,” said her mother patiently. “And it would mean pulling you out of school early, which I do not think is a good thing to do for a football game. You can watch it on the computer—it's streaming through the school website. I'll have it all set up for you.”

Alex pushed away the eggs she'd barely touched and stood up. “I'm too nervous to eat,” she said to her mom. “I'm going upstairs to practice my speech a couple more times. Call me when you're ready to go, Ave.”

After lunch, Alex sat up on the platform at one end of the cafeteria, looking out at a sea of faces. It was the old stage, one that was rarely used anymore since the school had added on the auditorium, but today it would come in handy as everyone was already sitting, ready for the show.

“We'll go in alphabetical order,” Ms. Farmen had told the three candidates. “Remember—three minutes and then I ring my bell. We have to keep this moving so we don't cut into the next class period.”

So Alex was second. She sat in her seat between Logan and Ella, mentally preparing the speech she'd practiced. Neither Logan nor Ella said anything to her, or to each other.
They must be as nervous as I am,
Alex thought. She looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye. Actually, he didn't look a bit nervous. He was making faces at a group of guys sitting at a long table toward the front. The guys were all cracking up, shoving one another sideways, and making faces back at him.
It's so not fair,
Alex thought. She wanted this so badly, and had for so long, and here was Logan, messing around with his friends—he didn't seem to care one bit about being president. Yet he was probably the one who would get elected, just because he was popular.

As Ms. Farmen got kids' attention, tapping the mike and calling for quiet, Alex scanned the crowd. There was Ava, sitting next to Kylie at a table toward the back. Ava gave her a little thumbs-up. Alex allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch upward.

There was thunderous applause and whistles as Ms. Farmen introduced Logan.

He unfolded his long legs, stood up, and ambled to the podium. Alex was grudgingly
impressed that he had no notes to refer to. Maybe he had prepared as carefully as she but was better at pretending to be nonchalant.

“Thanks, Ms. Farmen,” he said, speaking in that smooth-as-honey voice. “My name is Logan Medina, and I think I would be a great class president. Here's why.”

He had a little grin on his face, but Alex could tell he was making this up as he went along. Surely it wasn't possible that he hadn't prepared at all!

“Because,” Logan continued, “Ashland Middle is an awesome school and it needs an awesome president!”

There was an eruption of cheers and “Dude!” calls from the table of guys.

“Ashland rules!” he yelled, pumping his fist in the air. The place went wild. Now Logan seemed to be considering what to say next. He glanced over at Alex and Ella.

“My opponents are great and all, but do we really need a president who spends her life in the science lab? What if she accidentally blew up the school or whatever?”

This drew huge amounts of laughter and cheers. Alex felt Ella stiffen beside her.

“Or a president who's from a family of troublemakers and who thinks girls should play guys' sports? Our football team is already going to be awesome. Right, dudes? Guys rule!”

Now there was a mixed response from the audience. Logan's table of course went wild with whoops and cheers, as did a few other groups of guys around the cafeteria. But Alex also heard a distinct booing from all around the room. He had some nerve, bringing her sister into the campaign! What right did he have to insult Ava? And yet—her anger now flared up at Ava. Why couldn't she just stick to normal sports for girls? Was she going to be the reason Alex lost this election?