Even the Score (4 page)

Ava lifted her head, noticing Alex. She raised her eyebrows at her sister's outfit and makeup.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Alex said breezily. “Just studying.”

“Oh, really,” Ava said knowingly. Ava wore a faded sweatshirt, shorts, and flip-flops. Almost the same outfit Alex had on before Luke arrived.

“So photosynthesis uses sunlight to convert water and carbon dioxide into what?” Luke asked.

Alex hovered by the counter, hoping he would look up and notice her. She pretended to inspect the apples in the fruit bowl.

“Come on, we went over this,” he encouraged Ava.

“Yeah, I know.” Ava stalled, biting her lip. “How about a hint?”

“Energy and—?” Luke said.

Ava stared at the refrigerator door as if she'd find the answer written there.

Come on, Ave,
Alex thought.
The answer's so easy.

Ava scrunched her forehead.

“Sugar,” Alex blurted out. She couldn't hold back.

“Correct!” Luke caught her eye and grinned. Alex smiled back. She felt special, and then she felt absurd because she'd just completed that worksheet yesterday.

“I knew that.” Ava groaned.

“Ava sometimes has problems focusing,” Alex explained to Luke.

“Alex!” Ava cried.

“Sorry, Ave.” She was just trying to be helpful. Tommy had mentioned that Luke had a younger brother who also had difficulties in school, and she didn't want him to think Ava wasn't smart. They were a smart family. Luke should know that.

“Why are you here, Al? Do you need something?” Ava asked pointedly.

“I was
parched
,” Alex said, using one of her vocabulary words. She pulled a glass from the cabinet. She lifted the handle on the sink faucet gracefully, aware that they were both watching her, and let the water run.

“Your mind is definitely not on green plants today, Ava,” Luke said, not acknowledging Alex's advanced vocabulary. “I know you know this and more. What's up?”

Alex's heart turned to mush. He truly cared why Ava wasn't getting this science stuff. How amazing was he?

“We lost the game today. I can't stop thinking about it.” Ava twirled her pencil angrily. “I hate losing.”

“Me too,” Luke agreed.

“You did have that awesome kick,” Alex reminded her, eager to stay in the conversation.

“Yeah?” Luke asked. “How long?”

“Thirty-two yards,” Ava said. “We tied up the score at the half with my kick, and then we fell apart.”

“That stinks,” Luke agreed, interested in the game. He'd played football when he was
younger, but he hadn't gone out for the high school team. “What happened?”

“The wide receiver, I think that's his position, botched a bunch of plays,” Alex explained, moving toward Luke. “His rhythm was totally off. Talk about a focus problem—”

“Al, what's with your water?” Ava interrupted.

“I'm waiting for it to get cold.” Alex waved off her twin's question. “I felt the wide receiver didn't have enough flash-and-dash,” she started to explain to Luke. She honestly had no idea if the guy was doing the right thing on the field or not, but she hoped the flash-and-dash phrase made her sound as if she did.

“It's
already
cold,” Ava said. “You shouldn't keep the water running like that.”

Alex fumed as she returned to the sink, filled her glass, and shut off the tap. She so wanted to keep talking with Luke. About anything—even football.

“So back to photosynthesis.” Luke pointed to the textbook. “Leaves contain a natural chemical called what?”

“I know this one. Chlorophyll,” Ava said.

“Awesome!” Luke reached up his hand, and Ava slapped him a high five.

Alex wished he'd give her a high five too. She stood awkwardly near the sink as they reviewed the stages of photosynthesis. She looked down at her cute outfit. Luke hadn't said anything. He seemed more interested in plants and sunlight than in her. She tried to think of something exciting to say. Something a high school girl would say.

She couldn't think of anything.

She placed the full glass of water on the counter and headed back upstairs. She needed a tutor of her own. Not for science or math or English. She needed someone to teach her how to get an older boy to notice her.

“What's the problem?” Alex cried, bursting into Ms. Palmer's classroom after school on Monday.

“No idea.” Chloe Klein sat on a desk, swinging her legs back and forth. Her socks had the same polka-dot pattern as the fabric headband that held back her straight, honey-brown hair.

“Mystery to me.” Johnny Morton bit into an apple and held up a piece of pale-blue paper. “You get this too?”

“The same.” Alex read her note from Ms. Palmer aloud. “ ‘Emergency student council meeting after school in my room for the three presidents only. Big decision to be made.' ”

“I got the same one,” Chloe said. “Ooh, sounds like a scandal. I wonder what happened.”

“No scandal. Nothing so dramatic,” Ms. Palmer assured them, hurrying into the room. “Actually, that's not true. It
is
dramatic.”

“I love drama.” Chloe clapped her hands together. “Spill, please!”

“Should I shut the door?” Alex asked.

“Not yet,” Ms. Palmer said, as a tall woman in a deep-purple dress and two students Alex didn't recognize filed in. “Okay, now.”

With the door closed, they all pulled the desks into a small circle.

Mrs. Palmer introduced the woman. “This is Mrs. Martinique. She teaches eighth-grade English and is the drama club adviser. She brought two students from the club. Eighth graders, right?”

“Yes. This is Spencer Mills and Nicole Patel. Thank you for coming today.” Mrs. Martinique looked at each of the three presidents as she spoke. “It means a lot to us. I will let Spencer
and Nicole tell you of our plight.” She spoke in a calm, measured tone, but Alex noticed her twisting her fingers together in her lap. Her knuckles grew white.

Alex's phone buzzed. She glanced down. It was a text from Ava. She typed back a quick response.

Over the top of her half-glasses, Ms. Palmer shot her a disapproving look.

“Sorry.” Alex switched the tone to silent.

Spencer stood. “The drama club is mounting the musical
The Wizard of Oz
next month. We're doing the whole show.” With this, he dramatically flung his arms wide. “The performances in rehearsal have been ah-mazing, if I may say so.”

“It's true.” Chloe nodded vigorously. “I'm in the show. I'm just an unnamed Munchkin, although privately I call myself Twinkle Toes, because I get to dance. Isn't that cute? Spencer is a big deal. He's the Scarecrow.”

Spencer broke into a spontaneous dance. He wiggled and shuffled his gangly arms and legs, then dropped dramatically to the floor, as if his limbs were truly made of straw.

Alex clapped loudly. She couldn't help herself. “You're so good!”

Spencer bowed deeply. “Thank you. I'm much better when I sing, too.”

“But you may never see that,” Nicole interjected gravely. Her thick, dark eyebrows knit together as she spoke. “Without your help, all our hard work will be for nothing, and the show will never go on.”

“You need
our
help?” Alex asked. She'd never been in a musical before. Tommy was the only one who could sing. He said that she and Ava sang like cats with bad colds.

“Yes,” Nicole went on. “The drama club stores our costumes, sets, and props in the school's basement. We have years and years of amazing costumes down there. This summer the pipes leaked. Plumbers fixed them before school started, but when we went down this weekend to pull out what we needed for the show, everything was covered with mold.”

“Can't you just wash that off?” Johnny asked. He gnawed on his apple core.

“No,” Nicole answered. “Everything is ruined!”

“Everything?” Alex asked.

“Everything,” Mrs. Martinique confirmed. “All the costumes and props had to be tossed. We have nothing to use for the yellow brick road or
Oz. We have no ruby slippers and good or bad witches' costumes.”

“Without costumes and sets, we will have to cancel the musical,” Nicole said quietly. “We don't have enough money to buy what we need. And there's nothing left in the school's activity budget for us. Not a big surprise, but drama club doesn't rank very high around here.”

“That's horrible,” Alex said. “I love
The Wizard of Oz
. My sister and I used to watch it all the time when we were little and then click our heels to go home. Of course, we already were home, but still . . .”

“We came here to ask for your help,” Spencer said. “We need money to replace what we lost, so little kids in Ashland can see the show and click their heels just like you, and so all the performers who have been working so hard can do what they love.”

“But we don't have any money either, do we?” Johnny asked Ms. Palmer.

“Actually, technically, we do.” She pulled off her half-glasses and let them dangle on the beaded chain around her neck. “We haven't paid for the new scoreboard yet. It's scheduled to be
delivered Thursday, but that can be changed. That money is still there.”

“Whoa! You want to back out of getting the scoreboard?” Johnny cried.

“I didn't say that. All I wanted to do was bring the different options to the table.” Ms. Palmer turned to Mrs. Martinique. “If you don't mind, we should discuss this privately.”

“Of course.” The drama adviser stood, and Spencer and Nicole did too. “I thank you for considering our predicament.”

“Please use your brain and your heart and have the courage to make the choice that's best for the school,” Spencer said in his Scarecrow voice, as they left the room. “The
whole
school.”

Once they were alone, Chloe spoke first. “There's already a scoreboard on the field. The drama club is in serious need.”

“We can't do that,” Johnny protested. “We made a promise to the football team and the students. We promised the scoreboard. We can't change our minds.”

“We'll get them their scoreboard next year. The show is an emergency!” Chloe cried.

“You're just saying that because you're in it.
You're not thinking of the good of the whole school,” Johnny countered.

“Neither are you,” Chloe said. “All you think about is sports, sports, sports.”

“Wake up,” Johnny said. “That's what just about every kid here thinks about. If they're not playing the game, they're cheerleading or dancing or marching with the band or watching from the stands. The scoreboard makes the most sense.”

“Alex,” Ms. Palmer said, raising her hand to silence Johnny and Chloe. “You've been awfully quiet. Let's hear your thoughts.”

“I haven't formulated an opinion yet,” Alex admitted. “I see both sides: Everyone is expecting the scoreboard, and I think promises should be kept. But I feel so badly for the drama kids. It would be horrible if they couldn't do the show. And the show is important to the school too. What do you think, Ms. P?”

“It's a tough one,” she agreed. “But it's a student council choice. I will support whatever you decide, but I can't make the choice for you.”

“I vote we stick with our original plan,” Johnny said firmly.

“I vote we delay the scoreboard and help the drama club,” Chloe said.

They both looked to Alex. She squirmed uncomfortably. They were each so sure. She wished there were enough money to do both.

“Come on, Alex. I know you're going for the scoreboard, right?” Johnny urged. “Football is in your blood. You have to vote like a Sackett.”

Alex stiffened. How dare he! She'd hadn't once thought of her dad or even Ava during this whole conversation. All she wanted was to do what the students had elected her to do. To make the best choices for the school.

Why did it always come back to football? Her whole life was defined by a sport she didn't even play. She thought of her mother and the beautiful pottery she made out in the garage. Mrs. Sackett was so creative and artistic, yet when anyone thought of their family, they automatically thought football.

We're more than football,
she thought.

“I vote to give the money to the drama club,” Alex announced. As she said it, she knew she'd made the right choice. “My dad loves football, but he always taught me to help those in need. The drama club needs us. The football team
doesn't
need
a new scoreboard, at least not in the same way. We'll raise more money to get the scoreboard next year.”

Chloe grinned. Johnny angrily tossed his apple core toward the wastebasket. They all listened as it plunked into the metal can.