by Belle Payton
Corey didn’t act like Tessa had just asked the dumbest question ever. “A dead ball means play stops; if the ball hits the ground, if the carrier goes out of bounds, or as soon as the other team has grabbed your flag.”
Tessa nodded. Everyone seemed to be paying attention, for once.
“So the other team is going to receive the ball, because we lost the coin toss,” said Corey. “And Kylie is going to kick it off for us, although I might also use you as a receiver, Ky, because I saw you make a great catch in practice.”
Alex had almost forgotten that Kylie was on her team. There she was, hanging toward the back of the huddle. She beamed at Corey. Well, good. Ava had told Alex that Kylie had become quite a football fan.
“And as we talked about in practice, Rosa will be the QB. She’s got a good arm.”
Alex knew that QB meant quarterback, but she looked around to see if others had figured it out. They were all nodding.
“Alex and Annelise are speedsters, so you guys set up on the outside and go long. But don’t forget to turn around and look for the pass from Rosa.”
“What’s ‘go long’?” asked Annelise.
Corey blinked. “It means run as fast as you can and try to sprint past your defender. Then maybe one of you will be open and can look for the pass. But remember: You have to catch the ball. It doesn’t count to just let it bounce out of your arms the way some of us did in practice.”
The girls all nodded.
Alex caught her breath. Corey had called her a speedster! She hadn’t thought he’d noticed anything about her! She resolved right there to outrun her defender, receive the ball from Rosa, and score a touchdown. Her job was to avoid people on the other team who were going to try to steal her flag.
Corey finished assigning positions to the rest of the girls and gave them instructions about how to wear their flags. “Any questions?” he asked.
Alex raised her hand.
“Alex, you don’t have to raise your hand,” said Corey kindly.
Alex blushed. “Force of habit,” she said. “So I was wondering about lateral passes. Are we allowed to throw those?”
Corey grinned at her. “You’re allowed to attempt any number of lateral passes or backward passes, from any point on the field. We’re only allowed one forward pass, and it can start from anywhere behind the line of scrimmage.”
Alex nodded. “Got it. Thanks.”
“Looks like Mr. Kenerson is waiting for us. He’ll be the ref today. Huddle up, guys.”
Alex watched from the sideline as Kylie kicked off. Her kick was not bad at all. It went about twenty yards. Alex wondered if Kylie had been doing some extra practicing since their practice on Sunday.
Ava caught it easily at the forty yard line and ran up the sideline. Alex watched as Rosa tried to catch her, but Ava darted away, fast as a minnow, and headed toward the center of the field. Luckily, Sydney Gallagher managed to grab Ava’s flag twenty yards from the end zone. She held it high above her head triumphantly, and Alex’s team yelled and cheered.
Miraculously, Ava’s team didn’t manage to score, even though they had four chances to go just ten yards. Alex was pretty sure Ava was trying not to be a ball hog. On the first down, she threw a perfect pass to Lindsey, who grasped at it for a minute and then dropped it. On the second down, she handed it off to Emily, who pivoted toward the end line and practically collided with Sydney, who grabbed Emily’s flag. On the third down, Lindsey ran straight into a clump of defenders, and Madison grabbed her flag and waved it high.
Alex sighed. Not that she was rooting for Ava’s team, but it was obvious that Ava could take the ball herself and run it in with no problem. She could probably win the game single-handedly. But she was Michael Sackett’s daughter, and that meant she was a team player. Ava’s team was forced to punt, and Alex’s team now had the ball.
In the huddle, Rosa told Alex to dash toward the sideline, turn, and look to receive the throw.
“Okay,” said Alex, “but don’t throw it too hard. I have trouble catching hard throws.”
Rosa rolled her eyes. “I’ll underhand it to you if I have to. But I’ve seen you run. You’re pretty fast.”
Alex’s heart swelled. Maybe she did have some athletic ability after all! And maybe Rosa actually knew what she was talking about! After all, she’d recognized Alex’s hidden talents.
On the line of scrimmage, Alex waited, poised for the cue they’d practiced.
“Orange eleven!” said Rosa. “Orange eleven! Hut! Hut! Hut!”
On the third “hut,” Alex took off at top speed, running toward the right sideline. She turned, saw Rosa looking at her, and held her breath as Rosa sidearmed the ball to her.
Bobble, bobble. She almost dropped it. But then her arms scooped it in, and she clutched it to her chest and took off running.
Before she knew it, the whistle blew. She’d only gone about three yards. She turned.
Ava stood behind her, waving the flag she’d grabbed from Alex’s waistline, grinning sheepishly at her sister.
The clump of seventh-grade spectators yelled, shook their pom-poms, and blasted their horns. Alex had no clue if it was because she’d caught the ball or if it was because Ava had grabbed her flag.
So Xander had told Ava to play both offense and defense? That didn’t seem right, with so many girls on the team. Whatever. Alex sniffed haughtily at her twin and headed back to the huddle.
This time, back on offense, Ava took matters into her own hands. Emily hiked the ball. Ava looked as though she might throw it to Lindsey on the side, but instead feinted left, jabbed right, and then took off toward the sideline.
No one could catch her. She coasted across the line into the end zone for a touchdown. Then Ava’s team ran it in for an extra two points. The score was 8–0.
When it was Alex’s team’s turn to be on offense, Rosa threw a long pass to Annelise, but Ava flew out of nowhere to intercept it and then ran it back for another touchdown.
At halftime the score was 16–0.
“I thought it would be way worse than it is,” said Rosa, wiping her brow with her flag.
Corey was calm but firm in the huddle. “We can beat these guys,” he said. “We just need to play our game. Ava’s the only one who’s a real threat. Defense, we need to be aware of where she is at all times.” He looked meaningfully at his defense. All eleven girls stared down at their sneakers. “And Alex—use your speed. Try that cut-back move we practiced on Sunday, and go for it.”
Alex nodded, although she had no clue what on earth he meant by a cut-back move, let alone remembered having practiced it.
“Yeah, he’s right,” said Rosa. “Alex and Annelise, both of your defenders are pretty slow. Try to shake them. I’ll look for you.”
Alex started to say something, but then didn’t. Maybe Rosa wasn’t just being bossy. Maybe she was actually trying to help the team.
In the third quarter, the orange team finally found its rhythm. Rosa connected with Annelise again at the ten yard line. Annelise spun around to keep the defense from grabbing her flag, and then took off running. No one on the blue team could grab her flag. Touchdown!
Corey set up a simple play for the extra points, and it actually worked. Tessa trotted effortlessly into the end zone. The blue team’s defense was still looking around in confusion when the scoreboard ticked from six to eight points.
In the fourth quarter, Rosa faked a pass to Alex and then streaked into the end zone herself. Then she ran it in for the extra points, just barely avoiding Ava’s lunge for her flag.
The score was tied. The crowd roared.
When they got down to the final two minutes, the score remained the same. Ava’s team had the ball. In the huddle, Corey pointed at Alex. “Go in for Sydney on defense,” he ordered her.
“I don’t know how to play defense!” protested Alex. “We never practiced it!”
“Yeah, but Ava’s the most dangerous player on the field. And you know your twin sister b
etter than anyone,” said Corey. “You can read her instincts. Figure out where she wants to pass, and go for the interception. You’re quicker than you think you are, Alex.”
Alex gulped, but she knew Corey was probably right. She did know what Ava was thinking, more often than anyone else. But she had no clue whether she could read Ava’s thoughts on the football field. And yet—Corey believed in her. He was confident enough to risk putting her, Alex, into the game, even though by pretty much all accounts she stunk as an athlete.
As the two opposing teams lined up at the line of scrimmage, Alex stared at her sister, poised to receive the ball. What was her plan? Alex tried to read Ava’s thoughts. Then she saw Ava’s eyes flick to Emily, just for a split second. That was all Alex needed.
“Blue nineteen!” yelled Ava. “Blue nineteen!”
Alex felt all her muscles coil up like a taut spring.
“Hut!”
The second the ball was snapped, Alex took off like a jackrabbit, hot on Emily’s heels. Emily was going long. Alex chased after her. As she gained on Emily, who wasn’t actually very fast at all, Alex darted a glance over her shoulder just in time to see Ava launch the ball. She also caught a fleeting glance at Mr. Kenerson, who was huffing and puffing down the field as well, his whistle bouncing as he tried to keep up.
Alex turned and jumped into the air, her arms outstretched. Somehow, the ball landed in her hands and didn’t bounce out again. She had intercepted it! She stopped in her tracks and stared down in disbelief at the ball she was holding.
“Run! Run!” yelled Corey over the roar of the crowd.
Alex ran.
“No, no! The other way!” yelled Corey. About three dozen seventh-grade spectators yelled the same thing.
Alex turned and ran in the other direction, almost colliding with a confused-looking Mr. Kenerson. The thought occurred to Alex, even as she changed direction, that players probably didn’t run in the wrong direction very often.
She raced down the field as fast as she’d ever run, totally focused on the end line she needed to cross. And also on not dropping the football, which was clenched under one arm. The sound of the crowd roared in her ears.
And then she saw a flash of blue to her right. It was Ava, bearing down on her.
A sudden flurry of orange spots danced around on Alex’s left side. “Kylie!” she shrieked. Kylie had run across the field to help Alex. She’d decorated her hair with orange beads, which must have been what Alex had seen out of the corner of her eye. “Catch!” Alex shouted, and lobbed the ball toward her teammate underhand.
A surprised Kylie caught the football that Alex lateraled to her and took off running—in the right direction.
“Hey, can she do that?” asked an indignant Lindsey. She stopped, put her hands on her hips, and watched Kylie zoom down the field.
“Of course,” said Mr. Kenerson as he passed by her, still huffing and puffing. He mopped his brow with his sleeve but kept running after Kylie.
Alex knew her pass had been legal. You didn’t have to be the quarterback to pass it—as long as it was a lateral pass. She smiled, watching Kylie’s heels kick up behind her as she zoomed down the field.
Ava must have realized what was happening right away, of course, but she was too far away from Kylie to grab her flag. “Get her flag!” she yelled at Emily. But Emily wasn’t fast enough.
Kylie sailed across the end line, six feet away from any defender.
Mr. Kenerson continued toward the end zone, stopped, and shot both arms into the air.
Touchdown. The crowd went wild!
Alex’s team had won.
Alex stood there, stunned, as seventh graders stormed the field, waving pom-poms and blowing plastic trumpets. Her team had beaten Ava’s team! They were going to the Powder Puff final game on Friday!
CHAPTER
NINE
Ava realized Kylie would score the touchdown the second she saw her take off running. She knew enough about angles and speed to understand that no one on the blue team was close enough, or fast enough, to overtake her and grab her flag. The blue team was going to lose. Her team, the heavy favorite, was going to lose. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It’s only a dumb Powder Puff game, she told herself. Who cares?
She opened her eyes. That had worked. She was calm. She was already over it. Good for Alex, she thought.
The clock ticked down, and the crowd cheered and honked. Ava headed off the field, already thinking about real football practice.
“Ava!” Rosa and Lindsey were beckoning her over. Both teams, the blue and the orange, were congregating around Corey.
Corey was reading a text to the group. “Good job, seventh-grade orange!” he said. “And this just in: I have the results of the eighth-grade game.” Everyone leaned in, and Corey waited dramatically before continuing. “The blue team beat the orange team.”
The crowd erupted in half cheers, half disappointed “ohhs” from most of the other girls, except Alex and Ava, who, being new, didn’t really know any of the eighth-grade girls yet.
Corey continued, “So this Friday’s matchup will be seventh-grade orange against eighth-grade blue. With teachers, of course. And you have to elect a new coach. Xander and I can’t coach you guys on Friday, because we have to be on the cheerleading squad.”
Ava grinned. A bunch of the seventh- and eighth-grade boys would be dressing up as cheerleaders and performing a routine during the halftime of the Powder Puff final. That would be a sight to behold.
“I nominate Ava,” said Rosa immediately.
That got Ava’s attention. “What? Me? The coach? I have no leadership skills.”
“Yes, she does,” said Alex loyally. “Don’t believe her. She’ll be a great coach. Plus, I think we can all agree she’s pretty much the only seventh grader who actually understands how to play football.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“So that’s settled then,” said Corey. “Ava’s going to coach the seventh-grade student-faculty team.”
Ava opened her mouth to say something, but then shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll coach you guys.”
“Your first job is to recruit some female teachers to play for the seventh-grade team in the game on Friday,” said Corey, looking down at his clipboard. “According to the rules, there have to be at least five teachers and six students on the field at all times for each team.”
“But there aren’t any decent athletes among the seventh-grade teachers,” said Rosa with a groan. “We’re going to get creamed.”
“And some of the eighth-grade faculty are crazy athletic,” added Annelise. “Like Ms. Peterson, the math teacher? She played college basketball.” She looked around the group to be sure her words had sunk in.
“And Ms. Santos used to play for the Mexican national team in soccer,” said Sydney.
“And my older brother saw Mrs. Burleigh, the eighth-grade social studies teacher, in the weight room the other day deadlifting two hundred pounds,” said Rosa glumly.
“I’m not worried,” said Alex, twirling her flag casually. “Ava is an excellent judge of talent. She’ll recruit the best athletes AMS has to offer. Right, Ave?”
Ava smiled weakly at her sister. “Sure,” she said.
Thursday morning Ava got a ride into school early with Coach and Tommy to find Mrs. Fowler alone and speak to her. Maybe they could figure out a way to solve the problem without getting Mrs. Fowler fired, Luke fired, or Ava put on academic probation. Exactly how, Ava wasn’t sure. Sometimes adults had a way of figuring out monstrous problems such as this one in ways that never would have occurred to Ava.
Coaching the Powder Puff football team was the last thing on her mind as she knocked softly on Mrs. Fowler’s open classroom door. At football practice Greg had mentioned that his mom had been getting to school early every morning, because she was so anxious to do a good job. That had made Ava feel worse than ever.
Mrs. Fowler was talking on her cell phone, bu
t she beckoned Ava in.
“I’m sure it’s just teething. Sorry she’s fussy. Is she warm?”
She paused to listen as the person on the other end said something.
“She seemed okay this morning. But keep me posted.” Another pause. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “I just don’t know what I’d do without you.” She clicked her phone off and put it into her purse.
Ava remembered that Tim had said his grandmother was looking after his younger siblings while his mom worked. Still, it was weird to think of teachers having moms.
Mrs. Fowler smiled. “Ava!” she said. Ava noticed that her glasses made her look older than she was, as did the streak of gray in her hair near her ears. But Mrs. Fowler had a nice smile, even though tiny worry lines crinkled at the corner of her eyes when she displayed it.
“Um, hi, Mrs. Fowler,” she said, stepping hesitantly into the room. “I—I wanted to talk to you about my test situation.” There. She’d said it. Now there was no turning back. Ava felt her mouth go dry and her heart pound harder. She stared at the model skeleton standing in the corner near the front of the room, then at the row of jars and beakers on the high shelf along the wall. She looked anywhere but at Mrs. Fowler, this poor woman with so many little kids at home and a husband overseas, the woman who really needed this teaching job.
“Ah. Yes. Your test. I remember that one. What a shame. You started out so strong, and then ran out of time. Next time, just pace yourself and work a little faster.”
Ava bit her lip. Part of her agreed with Mrs. Fowler. It did seem unfair that she, Ava, got to have more time to take tests than other kids. But her mom had explained to her that having a learning difference meant she really did have a right to extra time. She started again. “Yeah, I know, but um, that’s the thing I came to talk to you about. See, I have this accommodation thing in my file. And it says that I am allowed extra time to take tests because I, um, I have ADHD.”
Mrs. Fowler gave a start.
“I—I know I should have tried harder to tell you. I’m really sorry. I hope this doesn’t get you in—in trouble or anything.”