Twice the Talent (3 page)

“Alex, is something wrong?” she asked.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Alex said. “I just have a weird feeling that something's not going to go well for Ava. It's our twin thing, I guess.”

Lindsey's eyes got wide. “Ooh, your twin thing. So you're having a preignition, right?”

Alex knew that Lindsey was actually thinking of “precognition,” but she didn't want to correct her friend. Then a boy's voice interrupted them.

“You mean precognition,” Max Beedle said with a laugh. “The psychic ability to predict the future. Preignition would be like pre-starting your car or something. Not as impressive.”

Alex smiled—Lindsey had made kind of a funny mistake. But Lindsey's cheeks were red, and she was glaring at Max. Alex looked at him. She didn't know him very well—no one seemed to, because he was quiet and mostly kept to himself. And although he was kind of cute, he
was always a mess. His wavy brown hair wasn't combed, and today he was wearing a blue collared shirt that was half tucked in and half sticking out. Alex couldn't help noticing that he had on two different sweat socks: one black and one white.

And though he didn't talk much, when he did, he usually said something odd. Like he just had with Lindsey, who looked like she was about to snap at him. But the bell rang before she could.

“Good morning, class,” said their teacher, Mrs. Bridges. “Today we're going to continue our discussion on the formation of democracy in America after the revolution.”

She dimmed the lights in the class, and a presentation appeared on the screen behind her. Then she launched into her lecture.

After ten minutes, she turned up the lights.

“Max, can you please tell me one of the challenges that led to the Constitutional Convention?” she asked.

Her only response was the sound of a soft snore. Alex looked and saw that Max's head was down on his desk. He had fallen asleep—and it wasn't the first time he had done that in class. Several kids began to laugh.

“Max, am I interrupting your nap?” Mrs. Bridges asked loudly.

“Um, what?” Max asked groggily, lifting his head, and the class laughed again.

“I was asking if you could tell me one of the challenges that led to the Constitutional Convention,” the teacher repeated.

Max frowned. “Um, like rights or something?”

Mrs. Bridges sighed. “Anybody else?”

Alex's hand shot up, and the teacher called on her.

“Economic struggles caused by the Articles of Confederation,” she answered. Who didn't know that?
Poor Max must be really out of it,
Alex guessed.

“Correct, Alex, as always,” said Mrs. Bridges. “Now, before the bell rings, I wanted to let you know we're going to be starting a new class project.”

A few kids groaned, but the teacher ignored them.

“Your projects will be on the Bill of Rights,” she went on. “I will be assigning students to work in pairs. Stay tuned!”

Alex looked across the room at Emily. Maybe they could be partners. Of course, Lindsey and
Rosa were in the class too, so Emily might want to pair up with one of them. That was the tough thing about joining an already established group of friends. Sometimes it was hard to know where she stood.

The class bell rang, and Alex gathered up her books. A few rows in front of her, Lindsey and Rosa were talking loudly.

“Maybe Max should go back to preschool. They have naptime there,” Lindsey said.

“And what's with his hair?” Rosa wondered. “Does he use a rake to brush it?”

Max was still in the classroom, trying to shove a stack of messy papers back into his binder, and Alex knew he had heard the girls. His cheeks turned red and he bolted out of the room, the loose half of his shirt flapping behind him.

Lindsey has probably been waiting this whole class period to get back at Max for embarrassing her,
Alex thought,
and Max gave her the perfect reason to make fun of him.
Alex felt sorry for him. She didn't think he'd really meant to embarrass Lindsey.

She thought about telling Lindsey that and decided not to. She had been trying so hard to be friends with her, and things had finally
settled down once Lindsey stopped liking Corey. She didn't want to jeopardize that now.

She looked over at Emily, who had joined Lindsey and Rosa. Now they were talking about the Variety Show. That settled it. If Emily wasn't going to say anything to Lindsey, Alex wouldn't either.

Still, she felt uneasy as she headed to her next class—and not just because of Max. She still couldn't shake that feeling that something was wrong with Ava!

“You know, if you ate an Ayurvedic diet like I do, you might heal a lot faster,” Uncle Scott told Ava.

After coming back from the doctor's, Mrs. Sackett had instructed Ava to sit on the couch with her ankle raised. She had to keep an ice pack on it for twenty minutes at a time until the swelling went down. Moxy, the family's Australian shepherd, sat on the floor near Ava's feet, staring at the ice pack like it was a squirrel in a tree.

Ava was absently changing channels on the TV when Uncle Scott had walked in. He had moved into the Sackett household in December, out of a job and with no place to live. Some good had resulted from Uncle Scott moving in;
for one thing, he had helped Ava convince her parents that playing basketball was a good thing for her.

But the house was just big enough for five Sacketts, and sometimes it was stressful having Uncle Scott squeeze in. He slept in the study, and if he went to sleep early, the girls had to tiptoe around the house and couldn't turn the volume up on the TV.

“So, if I go totally Ayurvedic, I can't eat cheeseburgers, right?” Ava asked.

“Right,” said Uncle Scott.

“And no onion rings?” Ava asked.

Uncle Scott shook his head. “No onion rings. But it'll be totally worth it, Ava. I promise.”

Her uncle's dark eyes glittered with intensity when he talked about something he believed in—like recycling, or renewable sources of energy, or his specialized vegetarian diet.

“So, if I do this, can you guarantee I'll be back on the basketball court sooner?” Ava asked.

“Ava, there are no guarantees,” Uncle Scott replied. “But it would be a smart thing to do.”

Ava leaned back into the couch cushions. “If you can't guarantee it, forget it,” she said crossly.

Uncle Scott put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “I know this is tough for you, Ava. I'm going to make a mix of calming music that I think will help your mood.”

Alex came into the living room, carrying her backpack.

“Who needs to change their mood?” Alex asked.

“Ava's just feeling bummed out that she can't play basketball for three weeks,” Uncle Scott reported, as he headed into the study.

“Three weeks!” Alex cried, plopping down on the couch next to Ava. “Oh, Ava, that's terrible. I had a feeling something was really wrong with your ankle. Is it broken?”

Ava shook her head. “Just a sprain. But I have to wear this stupid brace all the time, and even after three weeks the doctor says I have to wear the brace when I play!”

Alex looked thoughtful. “Well, a brace is a lot better than an itchy cast. It could be a lot worse.”

“It could
not
be worse!” Ava protested. She knew she was being really crabby, but she couldn't help it. She was stuck on the couch with her leg in the air when she should be at basketball practice.

Mrs. Sackett came into the living room with a streak of gray clay on her arm. She was a potter, and she'd worked on some of her pieces at home today instead of going into a studio like she normally did. “How was your day, Alex?” she asked.

“Pretty good,” Alex reported.

“Of course it was good,” Ava said. “
She's
not stuck in a stupid leg brace with a stupid sprained ankle.”

Alex looked at her mother and rolled her eyes.

“I saw that!” Ava cried.

Mrs. Sackett ignored Ava's obnoxious behavior. “Alex, can you please set the table for dinner?” she asked.

Ava jumped up from the couch, and the ice pack slid off her ankle onto the floor. “It's my turn to set the table! I'm doing that!”

“Ava, you need to take it easy,” her mom insisted. “Lie down and get that ice pack back on your ankle, please.”

Scowling, Ava limped back to the couch, picking up the ice pack along the way. As she propped her leg back up, her dad came home.

Moxy rushed over to greet him. Coach put
his briefcase down in the hallway and came into the living room.

“I heard that ankle of yours was sprained pretty badly,” Coach said. “That's tough, Ave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ava said.

“Then you know you need to take it easy, right?” Coach asked. “That's the only way you'll heal properly. I've seen it too many times. Kids who get back in the game too fast after an injury, and they end up with a problem the rest of their lives. But you're smarter than that, right?”

Ava sighed. Somehow, Coach could always get through to her when nobody else could.

“Yes, I'm smarter than that,” she replied. “I'm a regular genius!”

Coach laughed. “That's my Ava,” he said.

“Don't worry, Coach,” she said. “I'll take it easy. I won't even run late to my English class like I always do. I'll walk late instead!”

Mrs. Sackett popped her head into the room. “English class?”

“Well, Dr. Rodriguez said I couldn't play basketball, but he didn't say I couldn't go to school,” Ava pointed out. “And it would be really bad for me to miss school, wouldn't it?”

Coach and Mrs. Sackett exchanged glances.

“Please promise me that you won't be running through the halls,” Mrs. Sackett said.

“Promise!” Ava assured her.

The next morning Ava heard a knock on her door as she was pulling on a T-shirt.

“It's me!” Alex said.

“Come on in,” Ava called out, and Alex stepped inside.

“I thought you might need some help making that brace look more . . . fashionable,” Alex said, looking down at the bulky black straps around Ava's ankle. “Were you really going to wear shorts to school? In January?”

Ava shrugged. “I can't get my jeans over it,” she said, and then she caught the look in her sister's eye. “And no, I am not wearing a skirt!”

Alex wore skirts to school all the time. Today she had on a cute blue skirt that came to just above her knees, paired with a short-sleeved white cropped cardigan over a blue tank top. White knit tights and blue flats completed the outfit.

“But I have the most adorable floral maxiskirt you could borrow,” said Alex. “It would totally cover up that brace.”

Ava tried to picture herself in a flowing, flowery skirt. “Um, no thanks. Any other ideas?”

Alex bit her lower lip. “I know!” she blurted out, after a moment. “Wait right here.”

She ran out of the room and came back with black leggings and a long red tunic. “This is perfect!” she said. “The black leggings are stretchy enough to go over your brace, and they're black so nobody will notice. And the tunic just looks supercute with the leggings.”

Ava nodded. “This is definitely better than a flowery skirt. Thanks.”

Alex left, and Ava quickly changed. The leggings did kind of blend in with the brace, she thought. The last thing she wanted was everybody making a big deal about her ankle. Especially the other girls on the basketball team.

But it was no use—everyone still noticed her injury. Ava and Alex got only a few feet down the school hallway when Lindsey spotted them.

“Hi, Alex, hi—Ava, what's wrong with your ankle?”

She said it so loudly that a group of kids
began to gather. Callie and Madison pushed their way through to talk to Ava.

“Is it true? Did you hurt your ankle at the game?” Callie asked.

Ava nodded. “Yeah. I'm sorry. I just came down on it the wrong way.”

“You don't have to be sorry!” said Madison sweetly. “We're sorry that you're hurt.”

“So, how long will you be out?” Callie asked bluntly.

Ava hated to say it out loud. “Three weeks.”

Callie and Madison looked at each other. “Does Coach Rader know?” Callie asked.

Ava didn't know. She knew that her mom had e-mailed him about her doctor's appointment, but did he know about the three weeks?

“I'm not sure,” Ava replied. “I'll tell him when I see him sixth period, I guess.”

But the moment came sooner than that—she ran into Coach Rader in the hallway as she walked carefully to Spanish class. His eyebrows rose when he saw the brace.

“So what's the verdict?” he asked.

“I can't play for three weeks,” Ava replied. “After that, I can play but I have to keep the brace on.”