A Lot to Tackle (6 page)

“What if I correct all my mistakes, and you give me half credit for each one?” Alex offered.

Madame Knowlton held up her hands. “No deal.”

“One-third credit?” Alex tried.

“No more negotiating, Alex.” The teacher pointed her toward the door.

Alex sighed. Could this week get any worse?

She wandered down the quiet hallway toward the front of the school. She texted her mom that she'd take the late bus home. Then she stopped in the media center and used the computer to submit the design for the Booster Club banner, all the while seething over Madame Knowlton's study guide trick and the fact that she had to have a parent sign her test. She wouldn't dare bother her dad. He was stressed over the championship game, and it was still over a week away. She hoped her mom would see the injustice.

“What were you doing in
there
?”

Alex had stepped out of the media center and nearly collided with Chloe.

“I was just”—Alex blinked, suddenly realizing that it was Wednesday afternoon—“Oh no! Did I miss the student council meeting?”

“Yes! You finally convinced me last night me to vote for your Variety Show theme. I gave up my perfectly good idea to vote for yours, and then you don't even show up!” Chloe narrowed her dark eyes. “I don't get you.”

“I needed to talk with a teacher.” Alex pressed her hand against her forehead. How had she forgotten this meeting, of all meetings? “Did Adventure of a Lifetime win?”

“Seriously? Without you there to talk it up? Everyone figured you didn't care or were angry or something.” Chloe adjusted her book bag. “We're doing Sage's idea. Wild Wild West. At least it's better than Tessa's Magical Creatures. It was close, Alex.”

Alex groaned. Her idea had been so good.

“And Ms. Palmer was looking for you, because you were supposed to coordinate the bake sale,” Chloe added. “She seemed kind of annoyed.”

Alex cringed. The sign-up sheet she'd made last night was tucked in her backpack. “I'm sorry. Is Ms. Palmer still here?”

Chloe pointed out the huge glass windows by the main office. “There's no time, Alex. The late buses are about to leave.” Chloe sprinted out the door. The buses revved their engines.

Alex had no choice. She had to get on her bus. She'd apologize to Ms. Palmer tomorrow. What a mess!

“Well, look who's here!” Mrs. Sackett put down her fork and grinned at her husband.

“Coach!” Ava cried with delight. She'd barely seen him since the weekend, and it was now Wednesday night. He'd been at the school and on the field preparing for the big game.

“I was craving a home-cooked meal,” he said, closing the back door. He dropped his bag, washed his hands, and pulled out his chair at the table. Then he reached over and ruffled Alex's and Ava's hair.

“Daddy! Quit it!” Alex brushed his hand away.

Coach had been doing this since they were babies. Even though she was probably too old for it, Ava still liked it. She didn't care if he messed up her hair. But Alex hated having her hair touched. Plus, Alex had been grumpy all day.

Coach lifted the serving bowl of pasta. “Got here just in time, I see. The Eating Machine hasn't devoured everything.”

“Yet,” Ava said knowingly. Tommy's appetite was enormous. “He's building strength for Austin. Do you think you'll put him in?”

“Maybe,” Coach said. “But he needs to improve his footwork. He's got to tighten the progression and solidify his base.”

“True. Then he'll be more stable when he throws. How about some drills in the backyard?” Ava suggested.

“Hello? Do you two not see me sitting here?” Tommy waved his arms. “I'm sick of everyone talking about me like I'm some windup toy.”

“No one is doing that, Tom.” Coach took a big swig of iced tea and grinned at Ava. Ava knew he loved talking strategy with her.

Tommy sighed. “Yes, they are. In the halls of the high school. At the gas station. Today the school bus driver, some old guy in a fishing cap, shared his pass accuracy tips with me in front of the entire bus!” He pushed away his plate, which remained half-full. If Tommy wasn't eating, that meant he was sick or nervous. Ava was pretty sure it was the latter.

“Welcome to my world, Tom. Everyone in Ashland has an opinion or a strategy to share,” Coach reported.

“Still?” Mrs. Sackett asked. “What could they possibly have to complain about now that we're going to State?”

“Everything.” Coach shook his head. “For some people, winning isn't enough, if it's not done their way.”

“Andy Baker said something to me the other day.” Ava poked at a piece of pasta with her fork. She'd been waiting to get Coach alone, but she knew he'd retreat to his study after dinner to watch tapes of their opponents' games, trying to find their weak spots.

“PJ's cousin?” Mrs. Sackett asked.

“What did Andy say?” Alex spoke for the first time.

Ava wondered why Alex was so quiet. Tommy not eating meant he was worried. Alex not talking usually meant the same thing. But Alex couldn't be worried about the football game too. Could she?

“Oh, well, it's kind of silly. Andy was probably just saying it to be mean,” Ava began.

“That's typical of him,” Alex said.

“A family trait,” Tommy agreed. He didn't like PJ much.

“Andy said that if the Tigers don't win in
Austin, Coach might be fired.” Ava watched her dad, waiting for him to laugh at the silliness of Andy's statement.

But Coach met her mom's knowing gaze and held it across the table. And in that moment, Ava knew they'd discussed this topic before. And it wasn't silly.

“It won't come to that.” Mrs. Sackett waved her hand dismissively.

“But could it?” Ava pressed.

“I won't lie to you.” Coach's voice was controlled. “It's a possibility.”

“But you brought the team to State!” Tommy cried. “What more do they want?”

“They want the big gold trophy. If I don't deliver that, they may or may not decide to keep me,” Coach explained. “I only have a one-year contract with the school board. They wouldn't give me a longer one until I'd proven myself.”

“It will all work out.” Mrs. Sackett smiled brightly. “We'll hope for the best and think happy thoughts.”

“Exactly. Is there more salad?” Coach asked, changing the subject.

But Ava couldn't think happy thoughts. As soon as dinner finished, she pulled Alex and
Tommy into the family room. Alex picked at her chipped pink nail polish. Ava had never seen her twin do this. Alex constantly polished her nails so they looked perfect.

“What's wrong?” Ava asked. “You don't seem to care that we're going to be kicked out of town.”

“I have bigger problems,” Alex mumbled.

“What's bigger than that?” Ava asked.

“My grades are horrible,” Alex admitted, still staring at her nails.

“You? Miss Perfect?” Tommy chuckled.

“Stop it.” Ava nudged her brother. “Al's exaggerating.”

“No, I'm not. I got a C on a test today,” Alex said.

“Hey, maybe we're more alike than people think,” Ava teased, but then she saw Alex's grim look. “Sorry. I'm not making fun of you. I bet you're just having a bad week.”

“Maybe.” Alex shrugged.

“Let's talk about the game,” Ava said urgently. “What if the team loses? What then?”

“I have no idea,” Tommy said. “I'd hate to move again.”

“Well, forget it. I am
not
moving. I like my friends. I like my team,” Ava declared. “I fit in here.”

“Me too,” Alex agreed. “But it's not like we can do anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Ava cried. “You're the queen of doing things. When the tornado tore up the football field, you rallied the whole town to fix it! And when Coach Byron didn't have anyone to watch his kids, you set up a babysitting ring!”

“That was a different time.” Alex sighed dramatically. She seemed more interested in peeling the polish from her pinkie nail.

“Al, why aren't you into this? We need to get motivated. I can't just sit around and hope for the best.” Ava turned to Tommy. “If they call you into the game, you need to score a lot of touchdowns.”

“What if I can't do that?” Tommy asked. “Or what if I'm not called in? You can't pin this all on me.”

Ava bit her lip. “Then we have to think of something else, because I refuse to leave. Operation Stay-in-Ashland begins now.”

One more week. One more week.
The phrase repeated in Ava's head all day on Thursday.

In one week, she and Alex would leave Ashland to drive to Austin with their mom. Coach and Tommy would travel on the high school bus. All schools in Ashland would close on Friday for the game. Back in Massachusetts, only a blizzard or an ice storm closed the schools. But in Ashland many businesses planned to close too. The whole town was traveling to the game.

Only one week to come up with plan B,
she thought. Plan A was winning the game. That was up to Coach and Tommy.

She couldn't think of
anything
.

And all anyone could talk about tonight was the big game. Of course, she was at the middle school football banquet, so that made sense.

“Are you going to eat that?” Corey asked.

Ava glanced down at the breaded chicken cutlet nestled next to limp green beans on her plate. “No. All yours.” She pushed her plate over to him. Then she glanced across McBride's Family Restaurant. She watched her mom and Coach at one of the parents' tables. Coach scratched his head and smiled at something Mr. Browning said. Ava spotted the tightness in Coach's jaw. He could pretend to everyone that he was confident about the big game, but Ava knew better. She'd give him an extra-big hug before bed. He'd taken hours away from game preparation to sit with the know-it-all parents tonight. But he'd been there when Coach Kenerson presented her with the Hardest Worker Award.

“One hundred and ten percent!” her dad had called out, as he and her mom stood to applaud her. Coach had taught her to never give up.

Ava examined the plaque engraved with her name. She wouldn't give up on Ashland. She and this plaque were staying here. But how?

“What a blowhard!” Corey whispered to her.

“Huh? Who?” Ava whispered back.

Corey tilted his head toward Mr. Whittaker, who was standing by the dessert display. He gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke. Other men listened with rapt attention. “Mr. Whittaker. Just because he's superrich, he thinks he runs the show.”

“What's he doing
here?
” Ava asked. “I thought he was president of the
high school
boosters.”

“Mr. Whittaker says he's in charge of building future teams. If the preschool football kids had a juice and cookies party, Mr. Whittaker would be there,” Corey said. “He makes all the football decisions in this town.”

“Really?” Ava watched Mr. Whittaker. He wore a nice navy suit and shiny black cowboy boots. His silver hair fell in a swoop over his broad forehead. He stood with confidence.

“The man has mega-money, so everyone listens to him,” Corey said.

Ava felt her brain begin to churn. “Did he hire my dad?”

“He probably okayed it.” Corey shrugged. “I doubt they could've hired him if Floyd Whittaker said no.”

Maybe they can't fire him either if Mr. Whittaker says no,
she thought.

Ava knew then what she had to do. She waited until players began filing toward the dessert table laden with Texas sheet cake and cookies. As Mr. Whittaker stepped back to avoid the crowd, Ava planted herself right by his side.

“Hi, Mr. Whittaker.” Ava extended her hand the way Coach had taught her.

Mr. Whittaker raised his silver eyebrows in surprise. “Hello, Little Sackett!” He pumped her arm up and down in a hearty shake. “Tough kick at the end of that last game. Not to worry. You'll grow. You'll get stronger. You'll kick longer. In a few years, that kick will be baby stuff.”

Here was the opening she needed. Ava took a deep breath. “That's the thing, Mr. Whittaker. I really, really want to play for the Tigers.”

“Of course you do. Every kid wants to be on our team.” He let out a hearty laugh. “Living the dream!”

“I mean that it's super important that I stay in Ashland and go to high school in Ashland,” Ava said.

“Great town. I was born here. I've lived my whole life here except for a stint over at Baylor in Waco. Doesn't get any better than Ashland.” Mr. Whittaker beamed with pride. Then his gaze
landed on Mayor Johnston, who was headed in their direction.

Ava tapped her foot nervously. He wasn't understanding her hints, and she didn't have much time. “What happens if the Tigers lose the State Championship?” she blurted. “What happens to us? My family?”