Split Decision (4 page)

“Mr. Kelly sounded sure,” Ava retorted.

“But that's not the same. I don't think we should rat PJ out. We should give him the chance to talk to Dad tomorrow. I bet he'll come to practice and fess up about it,” Alex insisted.

“I don't know.” Ava kicked a stone, and they watched it skitter down the street.

“It's not our secret to tell. And we were eavesdropping, which is dishonest,” Alex added.

“Is this about honesty or you going out with Corey?” Ava asked.

“Both.” Alex locked eyes with her twin. “Please, Ave? I don't want to get in trouble. I know I said we should keep walking, and I dropped the leash. I'm sorry.”

“But—”

Alex didn't let her finish. “Whatever happens with PJ is going to happen whether Daddy finds out tonight or tomorrow. And I don't want him to have to tell Mr. Kelly he knows because his daughters were spying on him in his own yard. That would be bad.”

Ava nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that would be bad. Okay, I'll keep the secret.”

“Thanks.” Alex hugged Ava and pushed open their front door. “Oh, it smells good!”

“Spaghetti!” Coach called from the kitchen. “Tommy's waiting. Let's eat!”

“What happened to Mr. Chicken?” Alex teased after they'd all sat at the table. She was glad he'd gone with spaghetti. She'd given up eating meat, and if they were all eating chicken, she'd be left with just salad. She was also relieved that cooking had distracted her dad from how long they'd been gone. Their mom would have been all over them.

“He's still icing his injuries,” Coach joked. “Mr. Chicken is benched for now. He'll play in a game later this week.”

“Sounds like Mr. Chicken belongs on our team.” Tommy's cheeks bulged with pasta.

“What's that mean?” Ava asked.

Coach shook his head. “We're down a lot of guys. Dion's still recovering from his concussion in the play-offs. Winston tore his Achilles so he's out, and Derek has mono. And then there are the Zhou and the Whitley families. They're running scared.”

“From you?” Alex joked.

Her dad didn't laugh. “No—from football. They don't want their sons to play, because they fear the long-term effects. Concussions and brain damage.” He sighed. “It's hard to argue with that. I run safe practices. I teach the guys how to take a hit, but I can't guarantee an injury won't occur.”

“Don't sweat it. It's only the spring season, and these practice games don't count for much,” Tommy offered.

“True. By next fall, everyone will be healthy and strong and ready to play. Plus, all my core players are returning—PJ, Dion, and Tyler,” Coach added. “Nothing to worry about.”

Alex felt the heat of Ava's accusing gaze, but she refused to look in her sister's direction. She was not telling him about PJ now.
No way.
She wished they'd never overheard that conversation.
She crossed her fingers under the table and hoped that PJ would do the right thing and stay with the Tigers.

Ava slumped on the bench during halftime at the next evening's game, only partially listening to Coach Rader's speech. The basketball team lagged behind, and Ava was totally off her game. She'd been missing opportunities—her shots pulled left, and her moves felt timid.

Get in the game, Sackett! Focus!
She tried to give herself her own pep talk.

She knew she could play better. The whole first half she'd been too aware of Jack, Xander, and Kal up in the stands, not to mention the loud woman calling directions to Tamara. She glanced over at Tamara, confidently doing calf stretches. Tamara had outscored her.

“Where's PJ?” Whitney LaVersa asked Jane in a whisper. “I bet his halftime talks are better.”

“No idea. He bailed on us.” Jane shrugged.

Had PJ gone to football practice this afternoon and confessed? Ava wondered. That couldn't have gone well. Maybe that was why
he'd missed their game. Jane's mom had driven her to practice, so she hadn't seen her dad or Tommy yet today.

“Go, Tiger Cubs! Play tough!” yelled the woman in the stands, as Ava and her team hit the court again.

“Who's that?” she asked Madison as they took their positions.

“Tamara's mom.” Madison rolled her eyes. “Can't miss her.”

Ava's mom was still at her artist retreat and her dad was coaching at the high school tonight, but when they did come to her games, Ava was grateful that they mostly kept quiet. Mrs. Baker was mortifyingly loud.

The whistle blew, and Ava quickly gained possession and swished the ball through the net. Now a tall girl with dozens of skinny braids from the other team had the ball. Ava tried to block her. She moved right, and Ava followed. She moved left, and Ava tried to trip her up. Her fingertips brushed the ball.

“Go, Tam! Get in her face!” Mrs. Baker's shrill voice yelled from the stands.

Tamara raced over, and the girl passed the ball to a teammate across the court. Ava gritted
her teeth. She could've stolen the ball if Tamara hadn't gotten in the way.

Tamara was all over the next girl too. Her mother screamed directions to her. Tamara scored again and again.

“You rule, Tam! Show them what you got!” Mrs. Baker cheered.

Ava caught a pass from Jane and turned to send it to Callie when the girl with the braids blocked her path.

“On her, Tam!” Mrs. Baker yelled.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ava saw Tamara move toward them.

Oh, no you don't,
Ava thought. She wished she weren't so competitive, but she was. She wanted to show Tamara, and her screaming mother, and all the football boys in the stands that she had better skills.

Ava barreled into the braided girl, knocking the ball from her possession. Scooping up the ball, Ava dribbled for the basket until the referee's shrill whistle stopped her.

He called a foul: unnecessary roughness. A few minutes later, she was called out again.

“It's not football, Ava,” Coach Rader scolded her.

“I know,” Ava said, frustrated, as the clock ran down and they lost the game. She hated to lose her first game of the season. The opposing team hadn't been all that great. They should have beaten them.

Ava pulled on her warm-up jacket and turned to high-five the other team.

“That Sackett girl totally messed up the team rhythm.” Mrs. Baker's loud voice carried down from the stands. “We won before she showed up.”

Ava willed herself not to turn and acknowledge what she'd heard. She was a great athlete, she knew that. Losing couldn't be her fault. Could it?

“So here's the plan,” Emily said on Thursday afternoon. “Next Friday, after the movie, we come back here to my house.”

“I'm so excited!” Alex tucked her legs under her on the sofa and reached for another chip. It had been decided. In one week, she, Corey, Emily, Greg, Lindsey, and Johnny were all going to the movies together.

“A party!” Lindsey cried.

“No. Not really. Just the six of us,” Emily cautioned. “And maybe Rosa and Ryan, too. How amazing is it that practically our whole group now has boyfriends?”

“Very.” Alex couldn't believe that she was finally included.

“Are you and Corey officially going out?” Lindsey leaned toward Alex.

Alex paused before she dipped another chip into salsa. Was this a trick question? She knew Lindsey was going out with Johnny now, but she and Corey did have a long history. And Lindsey certainly could hold a grudge—Alex thought about how mean she'd recently been to Max, just because he'd teased Lindsey about using a word incorrectly.

“Well, not yet, exactly, but . . . ,” she fumbled to respond.

“You should be. You guys are so cute together,” Lindsey said. “I mean it. Truly.”

“Corey asked me if you like him,” Emily added.

“Really?” Alex hesitated. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Loffit was handing out the quiz and made us stop talking, so I didn't get to answer,” Emily confided. “But I think not answering gives you a bit of mystery.”

“Is that a good thing?” Alex kind of wished Emily had said yes. She didn't think she'd ever have the nerve to tell Corey herself that she liked him.

“Totally.” Lindsey shot her a genuine smile. “It's better this way. Now, let's talk clothes. I vote you should wear your blue sweater with the white sleeves. I like that one.”

Alex spent the next hour planning every part of the movie date with Emily and Lindsey. Her clothes: blue sweater, gray jeans. Snacks to buy: share popcorn and sour gummies. Where to sit: Lindsey promised to sit on the opposite end of the row from Alex and Corey.

This was going to be the best night of her life. Alex just wanted it to happen already!

That evening at the dinner table, Alex wondered if she should tell her dad that she had plans to go out next Friday night. She definitely didn't want to tell him the boyfriend or date part. She'd wait for her mom for that. But she couldn't find the right time. He was in a grumpy mood. PJ had told him that he was injured. As far as Alex could figure, PJ hadn't told him how the injury happened or that he'd been with the Saint Francis team.

“Your cooking stinks, Alex.” Tommy pulled slightly burnt crusts from his grilled cheese sandwich.

“Hey! My grilled cheese and tomato soup are
far superior to anything you will make tomorrow,” Alex shot back. They had divided up the cooking responsibilities for the rest of the time Mrs. Sackett was away.

“Chef Tommy has hidden cooking talents that you know nothing about,” Tommy promised.

“Ever think there's a reason these talents have been hidden for sixteen years?” Ava teased.

“Do not doubt me,” Tommy said. “My meal will be epic and gourmet.”

“If you have such mad skills, maybe you should cook a romantic meal for Cassie on her birthday,” Ava suggested with a mischievous grin.

“It took Tommy long enough to get Cassie to go out with him,” Coach Sackett teased. “Let's not poison his girlfriend just yet.”

Tommy clasped his hands over his heart. “I am wounded by you nonbelievers.”

“So you think that cooking for Cassie's birthday is a stellar idea?” Alex asked.

Tommy sighed. “Not at all. And I have no idea what to get her.”

“How about a Tigers jersey with your number on it?” Ava suggested. “Or a football that you sign for her?”

“No! That's not something
she
would want. Why does she want to wear his jersey?” Alex asked. “He should get her something pretty and romantic.”

“Like a heart necklace?” Tommy asked hopefully.

“That's so typical,” Ava scoffed. “The gift needs to be more personal. How about you write her a song?”

“Oh, I like that! A love ballad. And he can sing it to her at school.” Alex pictured Tommy with his keyboard, singing to Cassie. Tommy was a great musician.

Tommy's eyes went wide. “I can't write that kind of thing. And I'm sure not singing to her in front of everyone.”

“What about a candle?” Coach offered. “You know, one of those smelly candles they sell in the mall. Don't girls like those?”

Alex groaned. “You get a candle for your teacher at Christmas. A boyfriend has to do something much more romantic.”

“You're suddenly a boyfriend expert?” Her father raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Actually, she kind of is—” Ava began as the phone rang, and their dad stood to answer it.

“Don't say anything,” Alex whispered to Ava.

“About what?” Tommy asked.

“Nothing.” Alex didn't want to talk to her dad or Tommy about Corey right now. Besides, there was nothing to talk about . . . yet.

“Yes, of course, I'm familiar with TexasHighSports.com. Everyone reads the daily blogs,” Coach said to the person on the other end of the phone and motioned for the kids to clear the table.

Alex brought her plate to the sink and listened to her dad answer questions about his team's prospects for the next season.

“Yes, we do have injuries. All teams experience this kind of thing,” Coach Sackett said as he held up a grilled cheese crust. Moxy jumped for it.

“Ava, go long to the fridge,” Tommy commanded.

Alex groaned. Her brother and sister never stopped playing football—even when they didn't even have a football. Tommy tossed the ketchup bottle to Ava. She caught it and did a victory dance.

“Mom would make you stop,” Alex reminded them.

“Mom's not here.” Tommy quarterbacked a
box of soup crackers. Ava caught it and lapped the kitchen. Tommy cheered.

“No, I'm not concerned about PJ Kelly being out. The boy will heal.” Coach dodged out of Ava's path and held up more crusts for Moxy. Moxy barked in anticipation. “What? Too much conditioning? Who said that?”

“Catch, Ave!” Tommy called. He hurled a small jar of pickles her way.