by Belle Payton
Ava felt several dozen pairs of eyes turn to look at her. She felt her face burning, but she kept a neutral expression.
Then Coach K blew his whistle and divided everyone up into six stations for the drills, and the practice began.
CHAPTER
FOUR
“Sackett! A moment, please.”
Practice had just ended. Ava was doubled over, trying to catch her breath. So was everyone else, though—at least she wasn’t the only one. She stood up, and the world tilted one way, then the other. She knew her hair was spiky with sweat, and her face must be red as a berry, which was what usually happened after a tough workout, and this had been tough. She hadn’t had a single opportunity to do any kicking, though. How was she supposed to try out to be a kicker if they hadn’t kicked?
Instead they’d gone through a series of physical tests: the forty-yard dash, sprints up and down the field the long way, shuttle runs from one sideline to the other, running forward, backward, forward, and backward, until the ground beneath Ava’s feet seemed to roll like an ocean wave and she saw stars all around her. They’d done something the coaches called the pro-agility test, which involved sliding side to side from one cone to another. She’d remembered what her dad had told her about keeping low and staying balanced on the balls of her feet, and she’d been pretty happy with how she’d done. She’d beaten the kid she’d been partnered with on the drill, and although she knew that might have embarrassed him, she didn’t feel all that bad.
She made her way toward Coach K, who was standing at the sideline with one of the assistants—was it Coach D’Annolfo?
“So, Sackett,” Coach K said, and whipped off his sunglasses to wipe a hand across his brow. He stared down at his clipboard without meeting her eye. Coach D seemed especially interested in the cord attached to his whistle.
“Am I getting cut?” asked Ava. Her voice came out in a croaky whisper.
“What?” Now he looked straight at her. “No. Well, maybe, but I don’t know yet.” He sighed with apparent exasperation and began again.
Ava waited, holding her breath.
“It’s not so simple,” said Coach K, sounding a tiny bit less gruff than before. “Tomorrow we wear pads, and I’m concerned about the contact. Like I said, I need to bring this matter up with the athletic director.”
Coach D nodded in agreement but said nothing.
“But there’s nothing in the rules. I checked,” said Ava.
“Yes, yes, I know that. But there may be some liability issues involved, and I need to get the go-ahead. I’ll try to have it resolved by practice time tomorrow.”
Ava nodded, feeling a big lump in her throat. She turned to head toward the locker room.
“Sackett!”
She turned back.
“You looked good out there,” said Coach K.
Coach D nodded.
“Second-fastest time in the pro-agility test,” Coach K said. “Good work.”
She turned around quickly so they couldn’t see how big her smile got, and walked away with a little more bounce in her step.
Ava barely made the late bus home. As they drove, she kept smiling to herself, thinking about what Coach K had said. She considered texting Charlie, her sort-of boyfriend back home. He’d understand about the pro-agility test. He played football too. But she decided not to. They hadn’t really been texting much recently.
She shouted hello to her mom in the kitchen and ran up the front stairs to shower. She could smell the chili cooking and realized she was starving.
A few minutes later she joined the rest of her family at the dinner table, her hair still dripping. Alex was talking a mile a minute about how she’d gotten her hundred signatures and what was going to happen in the next phase of her campaign, and how glad she was to have gotten ahead with her studying over the weekend because she had a million, no, a zillion posters to finish tonight.
“And what’s doubly lucky is, our science class is going on a field trip to the science museum tomorrow,” Alex said, “so I don’t have any homework for tonight. Can I get a ride with you and Tommy tomorrow morning, Daddy? I need to get to school early to put up my posters before we leave for the museum.”
“Sure, thing, Al,” said Coach. Then he turned to Ava. “So how’d it go at tryouts today, sport?”
“Good and bad,” Ava replied. She stirred her bowl of chili slowly.
Mrs. Sackett set down her glass and looked carefully at Ava. “Honey? Did you make the team?”
“Tryouts are going to be most of the week,” said Ava. “Today was just testing and conditioning, and I think I did okay. But Coach K said I might not be allowed to play, because I’m a girl.”
Coach pursed his lips.
“Lame,” pronounced Tommy as he helped himself to seconds on chili.
“I was worried that might happen,” said Alex, sighing.
Mrs. Sackett’s eyes blazed. “What is he talking about?” she said, indignation written across her face. “Of course you’re allowed! Doesn’t Title Nine mean anything to anyone around here?”
“What’s Title Nine?” asked Alex.
Mrs. Sackett looked at her, took a deep breath, and replied, “It was a law passed way back in the early 1970s that said there can be no discrimination based on a person’s gender. In other words, girls get to play the same sports boys do, and if there’s not an equivalent girls’ team, a girl should be allowed to play with the boys.”
“Oh!” said Alex. “Then there should be no problem!”
“Coach K says there might be a problem,” said Ava. She told them what he had said about bringing it up with the athletic director.
“If they tell you anything other than you’re allowed to play, your father and I will be there first thing tomorrow to meet with them,” said Mrs. Sackett. She turned to Coach. “Right?”
Coach had remained quiet during the conversation. He set down his fork and cleared his throat. “Not so fast, Laura,” he said.
Mrs. Sackett raised her eyebrows.
“You know as well as I do that coaches don’t welcome parents who fight their kids’ battles,” he said.
“But this is—”
Coach raised a hand so he could continue. “This is Ava’s situation,” he finished. “She needs to work things out as best she can.”
“But Michael, if this escalates into a big deal with the district, she’s going to need us.”
“If that happens, we’ll be there to support her,” he agreed. “But for now we need to let Ava handle it on her own. It should stay between her and her coach.”
“But—”
“Mom,” said Ava, “Coach is right. I’ll wait and see what Coach K says tomorrow. I’ve done my homework—well, not my actual homework, but I’ve researched the rules and stuff. I want to make the team because I’m good enough, not because I’m a girl or because my parents made a big fuss, or worst of all, because I’m Coach Sackett’s daughter.”
“You go, Ave,” said Tommy approvingly.
“What was the matter with volleyball, again?” asked Alex.
Ava glared at her. Tommy threw a piece of roll at Alex.
“All right, never mind,” said Alex with a shrug.
“So we’ll wait and see,” said Coach.
“Okay, can we get back to me for a minute?” asked Alex.
The rest of the family groaned.
“Mom, I really need an outfit for my first campaign speech,” said Alex, undaunted. “It’s this Friday at lunchtime, although there’s a final speech next week. For this one, all three of us have to speak for three minutes, and then the students have a few minutes to ask us questions. I think I should wear a snappy red blazer—isn’t that what candidates wear on television?”
“Are you going to be on television?” asked Tommy.
Alex rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point.”
“Honey, we’ve spent enough money on clothes for you this year,” said Mrs. Sackett.
“She can have
some of whatever you would have spent on me,” said Ava with a shrug.
“No, she can’t,” said Mrs. Sackett firmly. “But I have been planning a trip to a thrift store I heard about around here. I’m hoping I can find some costume jewelry for my new ceramics project. You can come along with me if you want. Maybe you can find something there that you can afford with your allowance money.”
“Good idea!” said Alex, jumping up from the table. She cleared away her plate and tried to take Tommy’s, but he shook his head and pointed at the pot of chili, indicating that he wanted a third helping.
“I’ll be upstairs, working on my posters,” said Alex. “I need to come up with a good campaign slogan.”
“I’ve got one,” said Tommy. “ ‘Vote for Alex. Because Otherwise Her Family Will Go Bonkers.’ ”
“Ha-ha,” said Alex, and left the kitchen.
CHAPTER
FIVE
“Gah!” yelled Alex out loud. She was in her room, sitting on the floor with a fan of poster boards around her, her laptop on her lap.
Ava was just passing by her room and poked her head in. “Was that you who just yelled?”
“Yes!” Alex said hotly. “Sorry,” she added, more calmly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. But it’s been really frustrating trying to come up with a decent slogan. Nothing rhymes with ‘Alex.’ Not a thing!”
Ava suppressed a grin and came in and sat down on Alex’s bed. “Need some help brain-storming?”
Alex scowled. “I doubt you can help,” she said. “Why couldn’t they have named me Ann or Pat, or even Sandy?”
“How about ‘Sackett’?” suggested Ava. “ ‘Sackett to me’?”
Alex gave her a look.
“Yeah, no,” said Ava after some consideration. “How about, ‘Sackett can hack it!’?”
Alex blew out a frustrated breath. “No, thanks,” she said.
“I have one!” said Ava, bouncing up and down on the bed excitedly. “How about ‘Count on Someone Who Counts!’? See? Kind of a play on words—they can depend on you, plus everyone knows you’re really good at math.”
“Yeah, great, so I’d get all of three votes. From the math club,” said Alex dryly. “And probably not even those—I’m sure Ella’s got the whole math and science clubs voting for her.”
“Well, I know Corey’s going to vote for you,” said Ava. “He told me at tryouts today.”
That got Alex’s attention. She closed her computer. “How did it come up?” she asked Ava eagerly.
Ava shrugged. “He just said it as we were stretching after practice was over,” she said.
Alex felt herself flushing. Good thing it was just in front of Ava. She’d vowed to treat Corey like any other seventh-grade guy. But she couldn’t stop her heartbeat from quickening when she thought about him. She needed to get more control over this situation. She didn’t want anyone to think she still had a crush on him.
Ava must not have noticed her sister blushing, because she’d moved on in the conversation. “But both Logan and Xander are also on the team,” she said. “And Logan was going on and on about how he’s definitely got the jock vote.”
Alex’s eyes flashed. “I can’t believe how arrogant that guy is!” she said. “Did it ever occur to him that a few jocks might vote for me because of my last name? I mean, being Coach Sackett’s daughter has got to count for something.”
“Maybe,” said Ava. “And also, his friend Xander is a kicker like me. It looks like we’re both competing for the same position. So that should be fun.”
Alex considered this new information. It was definitely not a good thing that her twin sister was competing for a position with Logan Medina’s best friend. “Wow, Ave,” she said. “I didn’t really think about how much this football tryout of yours might adversely affect my campaign.”
Ava stood up. Her lips were pressed together into a tight line, and her chin was all crumpled up.
Alex felt alarmed. Why was Ava so upset? What had she said that was so bad?
“Ave? What’s wrong?” asked Alex.
Ava didn’t answer. She shook her head quickly and moved toward the door.
“I was just saying things are really complicated,” said Alex. “I mean, they’re already complicated, with you being Daddy’s daughter and all, and everyone in my homeroom knows that Mr. Kenerson is, like, a fanatic about Daddy’s team. There’s no way you trying out isn’t going to be complicated, since your dad is the high school coach. I was just saying—”
“I heard what you were saying,” said Ava, her voice full of hurt. “You’re worried that what I do is going to affect your precious campaign. Well, it’s pretty mean of you to bring up the fact that Coach Kenerson might keep me on the roster just because my last name is Sackett.”
“I was only—”
“Especially after you just finished saying you might have a chance to get jock votes because you’re the daughter of the high school football coach. Talk about double standards! What makes it okay that you want to use your last name to get yourself elected?”
And before Alex could answer, Ava left the room, shutting the door behind her with force.
CHAPTER
SIX
Tuesday morning Alex sat in the backseat of Coach’s car clutching her stack of posters, half listening to Coach and Tommy in the front seat, talking about Friday night’s upcoming game against the Spartans. As usual, she was quick to tune out the conversation, which was heavy with football jargon and offensive patterns and defensive strategies. For the millionth time, she thought about how complex football was.
She reflected on the sort-of fight she’d had with Ava last night. She was still not sure why Ava had gotten so upset with her. She wished the football tryouts and the election didn’t have to happen at the exact same time. It made everything so much more convoluted. Well, maybe it would resolve itself, if Coach Kenerson told Ava she couldn’t play. That would certainly make Alex’s life easier. As soon as she’d thought it, she felt guilty.
They pulled up in front of the middle school. It was weird to be here this early, before the buses that clogged up the semicircular drive, before swarms of chattering middle schoolers had arrived. The parking lot was about half-full of cars, and Alex saw two teachers, a man and a woman whom she didn’t recognize, trudging in, both laden down with heavy-looking briefcases and large, steaming cups of coffee. Teachers drank a lot of coffee, it seemed.
Alex said good-bye to her father and Tommy and went inside. She checked in with Mrs. Gusman at the front office, who gave her the approved wall-mounting double-stick tape that the custodians had said wouldn’t mark the walls. Then she set about putting up her posters in the seventh-grade wing, near the auditorium, the locker room areas, and finally, outside the cafeteria.
It didn’t take that long. She’d only made eight posters, and those had taken hours. Hers seemed to be the first ones up—she didn’t see any of Logan’s or Ella’s. That would likely be a temporary situation. No doubt their posters would be plastered all over the school soon enough.
As she finished mounting the last one outside the cafeteria, she stepped back to survey it. Not bad, she thought. She hadn’t come up with anything clever for a campaign slogan, so she’d finally decided on something straightforward: VOTE FOR ALEX SACKETT! SEVENTH-GRADE CLASS PRESIDENT. She’d decorated her name with glitter glue, and it looked pretty nice. Below the slogan was a picture of her, a blown-up scan of her school picture from last year. It was an okay picture—she was looking off to one side, smiling widely, and she thought she looked pretty confident and presidential.
By now kids were starting to arrive, probably not yet the kids who took the bus, but those who’d been dropped off by their parents. She discovered she had glitter all over her hands and headed toward the girls’ bathroom just outside the cafeteria. That was all she needed—glitter on her clothes and in her hair all day.
She assumed the bathroom would be empty at this early hour, but as she pushed open
the swinging door, she realized that it wasn’t. A girl was standing near the sinks, an open lunch bag unzipped across the metal ledge below the mirrors.
“Oh! Hey, Lindsey!” Alex said cheerfully. “I didn’t expect to see you in here so early!”
Lindsey Davis turned toward Alex. She seemed as surprised to see Alex as Alex was to see her.
“Hey, Alex,” she replied curtly, and went back to what she was doing, although Alex wasn’t sure exactly what that was.
Alex moved to the sink one away from where Lindsey was standing and washed her hands. She really did have glitter in her hair, she realized ruefully, and after carefully drying her hands, began fishing the glittery specks from her curls. “Glitter from my posters,” she said to Lindsey, just in case the other girl might think she was fishing out something much grosser, like dandruff or, even worse, lice.
Lindsey didn’t answer, but she seemed eager to finish what she was doing. Alex realized Lindsey was transferring lunch food from a white paper bag to a zip-up green lunch bag with a shoulder strap.
“Oh, right, I forgot Mr. Lehner is taking both his seventh-grade science classes to the museum!” said Alex. When Lindsey didn’t respond, she kept up the chatter to fill the uncomfortable silence. “So that means you and Emily are coming too! That’s awesome. I’ve got Madison Jackson for my partner, and she’s nice and everything, but I don’t know her that well, so I’m so glad you guys will also be there. Plus, Ella Sanchez is in my class, which is awkward because we’re both running for class president, so we don’t really have a lot to say to each other. Hey! Is that a school lunch? I didn’t know they gave those out! Are they an improvement over their hot food?” When Lindsey still didn’t immediately answer, Alex kept babbling, even though she knew she was babbling. Lindsey had that effect on her. “Probably the school bag lunch is better, I’m guessing, because it’s hard to mess up a sandwich and chips, ha-ha.”
“It’s fine,” snapped Lindsey, who had finished what she was doing. She slung the lunch bag onto her shoulder and dumped the remains of the white paper bag and its contents into the garbage can.