Two Steps Back (8 page)

“She and Rosa are heading toward the Briar Ridge cheerleaders,” said Bryce. “What for?”

“No clue,” said Ava. They watched Alex and Rosa Navarro, the Ashland cheerleaders' seventh-grade captain, stoop down to speak to the Briar Ridge cheerleaders.

Alex beckoned to the AMS squad. The rest of the AMS cheerleaders approached the Briar Ridge cheerleaders, who all began moving over. The AMS squad sat down among them. Alex did too.

“Our cheerleaders are joining the protest,” said Corey, chuckling. “Good for them.”

It didn't surprise Ava that Alex would be part of the mix. After all, she
was
the public relations director for the cheer team. Ava was sure that joining forces with the opposing team's cheerleaders had been Alex's idea. It was just the sort of thing Alex would think of. The cynical part of her wondered if Alex was behind this protest just for the sake of her news story, but she dismissed that thought. Marcy Maxon's TV crew wasn't there to film it.

The television crews all seem to have realized what was going on at the same moment, because Ava saw several of them point, gather up their stuff, and go running toward where the cheerleaders were all sitting down. Cameras flashed, videos were turned on, and newscasters bent down awkwardly to interview the girls.

The Colts won the toss. The Tiger Cubs lined up to kick off. Bryce Hobson raised his hand to signal he was ready to kick. Ava felt a twinge of bitterness. That should be her, Ava, kicking off. The refs blew the whistle, and the game began.

The game was close, a defensive battle. Both teams had trouble getting the ball into the opponent's red zone, but toward the end of the first half, Corey connected with Owen on a fly pattern, and Owen ran it in for a touchdown.

And then Bryce missed the extra point. Ava, sitting so close to the edge of the bench that she kept almost falling off, tried not to show any emotion when the kick went wide. She knew Bryce was feeling a lot of pressure, especially as his opening kickoff had gone out of bounds. And she also knew he didn't need an emotional reaction from her to add to his stress.

With about a minute left in the first half, the Briar Ridge quarterback dropped back to pass, couldn't find anyone, scrambled, and ran it in for a touchdown. At halftime, the score was 7–6, Briar Ridge. Even though she was focused on the game, Ava couldn't help but notice that the cheerleaders from both sides remained quietly sitting, side by side, even after their teams scored. It was very strange to see.

Ava gathered her helmet up and headed with her team toward the locker room, falling into step beside Xander.

“You hear what they're chanting?” he asked her.

She looked at him, startled. She'd been so caught up in what she was going to say to Bryce to help him straighten out his kicking motion, she hadn't been paying attention to the chant that had begun in the Ashland stands and spread to the opposing side as well.

“Ay-VUH! Ay-VUH! Ay-VUH! Ay-VUH!”

Then she became aware that several newspeople were walking at a distance from the team, but keeping pace with her, snapping pictures.

Coach K looked up from his clipboard at the door of the locker room. “Well, you'd better acknowledge your fans, Sackett,” he said gruffly.

She looked at him in alarm, and then turned toward the bleachers and awkwardly waved to the crowd.

A huge cheer went up. Cameras started flashing like crazy. She ducked into the locker room.

During his halftime tirade (halftime was the only time Ava went into the boy's locker room), Coach K did not acknowledge the media or the cheerleader protest, and Ava was grateful for that. He mostly bellowed about the need to gang-tackle on defense and better protect the quarterback on offense.

As the AMS kick return team trotted onto the field at the start of the second half, Ava glanced again at all the cheerleaders. The news teams were still snapping pictures and attempting to get the girls to speak to the cameras. Alex was no longer in their midst, but Ava became absorbed in the game before she had time to wonder where her twin had gone.

Neither team could move the ball in the third quarter, but in the fourth quarter, with seconds remaining in the game, the Cubs made it to the five yard line. Corey pitched the ball to Greg Fowler, the running back, who sprinted wide behind some blockers. At the one yard line, he dove for the end zone and touched the ball down just inside the goal line before tumbling out of bounds.

Ava clutched the edge of the bench tightly and waited. Was this a repeat of last year? Would it be ruled a touchdown? Had Greg gotten the ball across the line before he went out of bounds?

The crowd held its collective breath.

The ref's arms shot up.

Touchdown. The Cubs were ahead 12–7 and the clock read 0 seconds left to play.

The Ashland side roared and cheered. Then everyone's eyes focused on the cheerleaders. How would
they
respond?

Ava looked too. They were all standing up now. The Briar Ridge and Ashland cheerleaders were all standing together in a long line, linking elbows.
A sign of unity?
Ava wondered. Cameras flashed. The cheerleaders were definitely as big a story as the game being played on the field.

After the game, Ava walked with her team toward the locker room. As the rest of her teammates veered to the left to go change in the boys' lockers, Ava turned to the right and stopped short. A big crew of reporters was standing in front of the doorway to the girls' locker room, waiting for her. Her heart sank. They barricaded the doorway, trying to force her to stop to talk, but she didn't want to talk.

“Ava! Ava!” They all shouted questions at her. “Can you tell us about your decision to sit out? How do you feel about the fact that the game was played without you? Did you know about the cheerleaders' protest ahead of time?”

Her father appeared out of nowhere and took Ava by the elbow.

“Let her into the locker room, please,” Coach said, cordially but firmly.

Ava's heart swelled with gratitude to her father. How had he known they'd be there?

As she entered, she glanced behind to see the reporters swarming around Coach.

“Coach Sackett! How do you feel about your daughter not being permitted to play?”

“Was it her idea or yours that she sit this one out?”

“Will this hurt Briar Ridge players in future recruiting decisions made by you and your staff?”

The voices faded away as the door to Ava's locker room closed.

Alex locked her bike to a conveniently located bike rack, and then headed around to the side of a building, to the black stage door of the Press, as Tommy had instructed her. Inside it was dark after the bright sun outside, and her eyes took a minute to adjust. When they did, she found herself standing in a dim entryway. The black-painted wood floor was battered and scuffed. A velvet-curtained doorway led the way up a short flight of wooden steps to the performance area. She could hear music playing. Amazing music. She recognized Tommy's piano part, having heard him practicing on his keyboard practically every night. But it sounded so much better on a real piano. No wonder he kept hounding their parents for one.

Alex rechecked her message from Marcy Maxon. Marcy had been lukewarm about Alex's new idea, to do her piece about Tommy and his trio, but at least she hadn't said no. Alex clicked through to read the text for the tenth time:

It's not as strong as the football story. But I'm willing to send my crew to film. If you can frame it as “Coach Sackett's son, the artist born into an athletic family,” well then, possibly. But if I don't think the piece is good enough to air, I want you to know I won't hesitate to kill it.

Alex cringed at the last sentence. Did journalists have to use violent metaphors like “kill”? She swallowed. This would have to be a good story.

The music ended just as she poked her head through the side curtain. Tommy looked up. “Yo, Alex!” he called. “Come meet my partners in crime. This is Harley and that's Jackson.”

Harley twirled her big double bass on its metal foot, and then turned and smiled at Alex.

Forget Marcy Maxon!
Alex immediately decided that her new ambition was to look, dress, and act exactly like Harley by the time she was in high school, if not sooner. She goggled at the girl, abashed by her beauty, her sophistication, and her easy manner.

Harley was tall and slender in black jeans, black cowboy boots, a white T-shirt, and a slim-fitting, buttery-soft-looking black leather jacket. Her long, glossy brown hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail, revealing a finely chiseled face with no discernible makeup besides ruby-red lips. Her dark eyes were as large as a fawn's, her brows thick and even.

“H-h-hi!” said Alex, suddenly overcome with shyness.

“Looks like your sister inherited all the good looks in the family, bro,” said Jackson with a little chuckle.

Alex tore her eyes away from Harley and said hello to Jackson. She realized she'd seen both Jackson and Harley once before, when they'd come to play at her parents' anniversary dinner a few weeks before. But it had been dark and somewhat chaotic in the restaurant when dozens of people had shown up to wish them a happy anniversary, so she hadn't really paid much attention. Now she was able to get a good look at Jackson, sitting casually behind his drum set, and he, too, struck her as the height of sophistication. He had dark skin and close-cropped hair, and in spite of the dim lighting, wore tiny oblong-shaped sunglasses, which emphasized his handsome face. He had on a pale-green shirt and faded jeans, and there was a gold stud in one ear.

She'd almost forgotten to look for Luke, but a quick scan of the small, ultrahip seating area told her he wasn't in the room. About a dozen tiny tables were arranged near the performance area, and behind them she could make out racks of books, magazines, and cards. Along one wall was a polished wooden counter and gleaming coffee-making equipment. She could hear some banging and talking coming from a room beyond a door and presumed it led to a kitchen. They were probably prepping for the evening, she decided.

“Are you a musician like your brother?” asked Harley, smiling at Alex.

“Me? Oh, ah-ha-ha, no, not really,” said Alex, immediately resolving to take up an instrument as soon as possible. “Did my brother tell you why I was here?”

“You're doing a story about us,” said Jackson. He gave her a thumbs-up. “That is cool.” He drew out the last word in a very charming way.

“Yes, and I thought I'd just come to rehearsal to listen and to figure out what I can talk about with you tonight when my crew shows up. I'm thinking that I'll start with an intro, and then you perform a song, and then after the show maybe I can interview all three of you together.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Tommy. Then he looked past Alex. “Oh, hey, Luke.” He elbowed Alex. “Al, come meet our manager.”

It took every nerve fiber in Alex's body to stay calm, look unperturbed, and turn around with a casual “Oh, hi!” She managed it, but barely. In spite of her cool exterior, she felt her pulse racing and her stomach turning.

Luke was still dressed as he'd been that morning, in his backward hat, Ashland shirt, athletic shorts, and sneakers.
But he could wear a burlap sack and still look like the perfect man,
Alex thought.

Luke smiled at Alex and greeted the others.

Was he trying not to reveal the depth of his emotions? Was he using every reserve of his strength to hide his passionate feelings from his friends? How bravely he was behaving! Well, if he could be brave, so could she.

“Go sit in the back,” Tommy ordered him. “Let us know how it sounds from there.”

“Will do,” agreed Luke. He wound his way through the little seating area and sat down at a table that was the farthest from the performance space.

“You go too, Al,” said Tommy. “Tell us if the balance sounds right. We haven't done an actual sound check yet, but the guy will be here soon.”