The Winner's Game (14 page)

I slowly close the book and look up at all of their faces. “I want you kids to give it a try. I want you to play Grandma and Grandpa's game.”

“Like with each other?” asks Bree skeptically.

“Would that mean I have to be nice to my sisters?” asks Cade.

“You would
get
to be nice to them, Cade. And if you're nicer to them than they are to you, then you win.”

Bree raises her hand. “What would we win?”

“I don't know. First I have to run to the store to get notebooks for keeping score. I'll do that now, then once I'm back, we'll settle on the rest of the details, including prizes.”

Ann scoots forward in her seat, her eyes drilling into me. I can almost guess what she's thinking. “Mom, are you and Dad going to play?”

I try to smile. “I don't know,” I reply softly. “I'm not sure he'll go for it. I think maybe if you guys give it a shot, and he sees you getting along, it might help persuade him to give it a try.”

She nods. “So if we really try hard at this, we can help you and Dad stop fighting?”

I nod in return.

Her eyes are still fixed on me. “Do you really think it could work? I mean, it seems like it worked for Grandma Grace, but will it work for our family too?”

Good question.
“If we want it to,” I tell her, trying to sound sure, even though I'm not. “If we put our whole hearts into it, like Grandma and Grandpa did, there can be no losers. That's why they called it the Winner's Game.”

A
S SOON AS MOM
is done telling us about the Winner's Game, Ann goes upstairs, making it clear she wants to be alone—or at least away from me. No surprise there. This morning was brutal, and I know she's still mad at me over the things I said.

I honestly don't know what to make of the game Mom proposed. Part of me sees how it could be nice, I guess, if we all got along a little more than we do. But more importantly…

What if I lost?! Ugh…imagine how Ann would rub it in my face if she won! And losing to Cade would be even worse.

No, losing is not an option. As long as we have to play, I might as well win, just like I did in the rock-throwing competition!

But before the game starts there are other things I need to do. “So Mom…while you're at the store, can me and Cade go for a walk?”

Cade gives me a puzzled look, but quickly wipes it away. The kid makes me so mad sometimes, but at least he's smart enough to know when I have a plan. He wisely plays along. “Uh…yeah,” he says. “A walk would sure be nice.”

“Of course. Just be sure to stick together. And don't go too far. I won't be more than an hour.”

Mom seems relieved that we're finally getting along, though we really aren't. I just need him. As proof that we're still both miffed about what happened earlier at the movie set, we don't say a word to each other while we're walking. But ten minutes later we're standing near a candy store, twenty feet from the door, and I am forced to speak to him. “Is this where he works?”

“Who?”

“
The guy
.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Peek in the window. I want to know if he's there.”

“That's why you wanted me to come? So I can look in the window for you?”

“Just do it, Cade. I need to know if he's there or not before we go in. And if he's alone. Do it, and I'll buy you a piece of chocolate.”

“Two pieces,” he demands.

I cross my arms for a counteroffer. “Then none.”

“Fine,” he mumbles. “One.”

“Deal,” I laugh. “But I'd have gone for two or three if you'd negotiated better.”

He shrugs it off. “Whatever. One piece of chocolate is still good pay for an easy mission like this.” As stealthily as he can, he creeps along the front of the store, just below the bottom lip of the large windows, to the cover of a large interior display of saltwater taffy. Once there, he slowly raises his head and peers through the glass, scanning the store from left to right.

When his gaze reaches the middle of the window, he freezes, then drops to the ground.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he whispers back. “Just…nothing.” Still on the ground, he crawls on all fours back to where I'm crouching at the corner of the building.

“So?”

“He's there.”

“You're sure?”

“Pretty darn.”

“Did he see you?”

He kind of looks away and shrugs. “Maybe.”

I take a deep breath.
Why am I so nervous?
Oh right…'cuz he's a boy
. I know Ann thinks I'm just this outgoing person who can talk to anyone and have all the friends I want without even trying, but she's wrong. It's hard putting yourself out there. It's hard trying to make people think that you're confident, when on the inside your stomach is filled with butterflies. Heck, I bet she's never even had butterflies like me. She would, though, if she'd just put herself out there!

“What are you going to do?”

“
Duh
. I'm going to see if he's cute.”

“Why?”

“Are you brain dead? Ann met a boy and didn't say anything about it—
to anyone
. It makes me think she's hiding something. Like maybe she thinks he's cute or something. I couldn't see him that well this morning when we drove by, so I want to get a closer look.”

“Why does it matter what Tanner looks like?”

Duh…'cuz we're going to be here all summer, and maybe he'll think I'm cute!
Of course I can't tell that to my brother. He'll blab, like he always does. “Well, what if he's totally ugly but she doesn't recognize it and they fall in love and get married and have totally ugly children? As her sister, it's my duty to make sure that doesn't happen.”

He rolls his eyes like he doesn't believe me. “Whatever. Let's just go in. I want my piece of candy.”

I quickly smooth out the front of my shirt, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, take another deep breath, and plaster a smile full of fake confidence on my face. “Fine. But you go first.”

“Fine, I will. I'm starving.”

“You came back,” I hear the boy say when Cade enters. “I was thinking you were just going to spy on me and run.”

One more breath, then I step inside, making sure to flip my hair as I pass through the doorway.

A confused look crosses Tanner's face. He glances quickly back at Cade. “Where's your sister?”

“Ann's at home.”

“I'm Cade's
other
sister,” I manage to say between heart palpitations.
He's SO cute!
When his eyes settle on me, I can't help but giggle.

“Oh,” says Tanner, sounding slightly disappointed. “Is she coming?”

Disappointed? That Ann isn't here? Doesn't he know how boring she is?
I cross my fingers behind my back. “I think she just wanted to watch TV.”

A little lie can't hurt. Right?

“Oh. Well, did she say hi or anything?”

“No. She didn't even mention you.” OK, that's at least a partial truth. “Who are you?”

“Bummer,” he says to himself and then shrugs it off. “Umm…I'm Tanner. Can I get anything for you guys?”

Cade picks out a piece of chocolate in about two seconds. I circle the store for five minutes, occasionally asking Tanner what he thinks about this one or that one. Eventually I make a decision and we leave. Not that I want to, but it would be weird to linger longer.

“What was that all about?” Cade asks as soon as we're outside. “Why did you tell him Ann didn't want to come?”

“Didn't she say he was just some kid from a candy shop? She obviously isn't interested in him.”

“Yeah, but…I thought you said you thought she thought he was cute?”

“Did I? Well, he's not, so it's safe.”

“You're not worried about ugly children?”

“Huh?”

“If he's not good-looking, they might fall in love and have ugly children. That's what you said.”

“Right…well…I don't think we need to worry about it. He's not really her type.”

He stops walking. “You could tell that just from talking to him?”

“Oh yeah, totes. I'm very good at recognizing these things.”

“So whose type is he?”

I smile and then, picturing him in my head, reply, “
Mine
.” A split second later I come to my senses. Stopping in place, I glare at Cade like the nemesis that he is. “And if you repeat that to anyone—
and I mean
anyone
—you'll wish you hadn't. Got it, Pirate Boy?”

“You're mean.”

“Which is why you'll keep your mouth shut about where we went.”

When we get home, Cade makes a beeline for the upstairs bedroom. I follow him to my room, where Ann is lying on her bed with a pen in hand.

Cade looks back and forth between us, probably trying to decide whether or not to tell her about Tanner. I give him my best warning look and pray.

Ann shimmies to the edge of her bed and sits up. “You guys look like you've been up to something.”

“Nope,” I say quickly. “Just…hanging out.”

She eyes me suspiciously, then turns to my brother. “Cade? Did you guys do something wrong?”

“Not me,” he says.

“Me neither.”

Ann's head dances back and forth a couple times between the two of us, and then she lies back down. “Whatever. I don't care anyway. I'm done caring.”

The comment catches me off guard. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Ann lifts a finger to the bunk above her and traces around one of the ink hearts. For a second she remains quiet, but then she says, “I just…I was looking at these hearts. There are seven of them now. At first, I wanted to draw one for every day until I get my new heart. But the more I think about it, I realize I could very well be counting the days until I die.”

“Don't say that,” Cade says immediately. “Your heart is fine, Ann. It's going to last until you get a new one.”

“Whatever. I don't care anyway.”

“I'm telling Mom you said that,” I warn her.

She turns just enough to look at me. “Mom's not home yet. Besides, what would you tell her? That I have a defective heart? Go ahead, knock yourself out. She understands the possible outcomes more than anyone.”

“So all this time you just pretended to be brave, and now you're giving up?”

“No, I'm just facing reality. I'm tired of not really living. I don't want to die, and I'm certainly not giving up, but I'm just resigning myself to the fact that my life could very well be short—shorter than most anyway—and so I need to make the most of the time I've got.” She pauses. “Besides, it's not like any of us is going to live forever. Heck, for all we know, this might be our very last conversation. A meteor could crash into our house right now and we'd all be toast.”

“That's called giving up,” I fire back, “and I'm telling Mom.”

Ann turns away and chuckles dryly. “Hey, what do you care? You already wished I was dead.”

My heart is suddenly pounding like crazy. Is Ann's heart condition contagious, because maybe I've got it too?
Does she really believe I wish she was dead?

The truth is I'd probably die if she were. Doesn't she know that? Doesn't she understand that I was mad when I said that? That's what we Bennetts do when we're mad; we say mean things to each other, hoping it will make us feel better, even though it never does. Doesn't she understand that? Hasn't she seen Mom and Dad fight? After all, that's what they do. But I mean…she's still my sister.

Not knowing what else to do or say, I turn and rush out of the room. “Mom! Are you home yet? Ann says she's going to die…!”

A
NN IS STARING AGAIN
at the hearts she drew. “Everyone's going to die,” she whispers softly to herself. “One way or another.”

For a full minute I just stand there, not knowing what to do.

Should I leave?
Maybe I should say something. But what?

Finally she gets up and walks out of the room, saying only, “If Mom gets back from the store before I'm back, tell her I won't be long.”

A moment later I hear the back door open and shut. I quickly run to the bedroom window to see Ann walking by herself toward the beach. She has her arms wrapped around herself, like she's giving herself a hug. Someone must've taken my binoculars, because they're sitting right in her window. I pick them up and continue watching. She heads straight for the ocean. Not quickly, though. Slowly, like she doesn't really want to go. When she reaches the wet sand, she stops at the edge of the water, just beyond the spot where the waves fizzle out. It's the closest I've seen her to the ocean since we've been here. Even from this distance I can see that her body is rigid, like she's a statue. The only movement is her hair, blowing in the wind. She is still holding herself. And staring at the water.

I wish I knew what she was thinking.

I wish I knew why she said all that stuff about dying.

I wish Bree hadn't wished Ann was dead.

After standing there frozen for like five minutes, Ann finally starts walking up the beach toward town, so I head downstairs, where Bree is watching the fuzzy TV, still waiting for Mom to arrive so she can be the first to tell her what Ann said.

Sure enough, when Mom walks through the front door with a bag of notebooks and pens, Bree blurts out, “Ann says she's going to die!”

Mom's eyes get humongous. “Like…
now
?”

“No, but she's talking like she's giving up. Like she doesn't care if she lives or dies anymore. She even said a meteor might hit our house and wipe us all out.”

“Where is she?”

“Out on the beach,” I tell her. “She said she'll be right back.” I glance at Bree. “I don't think she meant she's dying right now. More like…everyone is going to die.”

Mom nods, and seems to relax. “I've had this discussion with her, and I'm sure I'll have it again. I don't want her to be afraid of death, and it's natural for her to think about it, given the situation. But you guys can help by not bringing it up.” She focuses on Bree. “And saying things like, ‘I wish you were dead' are about the worst things you can say to her right now.”

Bree throws up her hands. “I didn't mean it!”

The sound of footsteps behind us pulls my head in that direction. Ann is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “Good to know,” she says. “Since I'm still alive.” It kinda seems like she is smiling now, but not quite. But she definitely looks happier than when she left.

For a moment, everyone is looking around to see who's going to speak next. Finally Mom says, “Well, now that we're all here, let's make lunch and then you can start the game.”

I love games.

Duh…who doesn't?

I especially love beating my sisters at games, even though that hardly ever happens, which is why I can't wait for lunch to be over. I mean, it's not like I'm looking forward to being nice to them or anything, but I can't wait to
win.
My whole life they've always been bigger, smarter, faster, or plain old better than me at stuff, but in this game we're all equal.

Whatever it takes, I
will
win.

While we're fixing lunch in the kitchen, Mom helps us set the rules. It's pretty simple: Just like in Grandma's version, everyone will be given their own individual notebook for tallying the things we do to show kindness to someone else. Figuring out prizes is a bit tricky, because everyone wants different things—and there's only so much money Mom is willing to spend, and it's not much—but eventually me and Bree and Ann agree that the winner each week will get first choice of seats on car rides for the following week, and whoever wins the whole summer will get a hundred dollars to spend however we want.

Before we finalize things, Bree has a question. “What if someone says or does something mean? Can we take one of their points away?”

Mom looks around. “You're the ones playing the game, so you can decide. What do you all think?”

After several more minutes of debate, we all conclude that the game will only be fair if we are able to take away points for unkindness. To do this, we'll use the second page of our notebooks as a scorecard for others'
negative
points, which will be subtracted from that person's total at the end of each week.

The final question, also from Bree, is, “Can we start now…because I'm totally going to rock at this.”

Mom checks her watch. “Let's just eat first,” she suggests. “As soon as the last person is done, we'll start.”

Ten minutes later, with a mouthful of noodles, Ann asks me why I'm staring at her.

How can she not know?
“I'm waiting for you to take your last bite.”

“Oh, right. That.”

Bree is already rinsing her dishes in the sink. She can't hear us over the sound of the water. “That what?”

“The game,” I shout back. “The one I'm gonna win.”

“Like heck you are,” she fires back with a grin. “I have a plan. You might as well not even try, because I'm gonna kick all your butts.”

Mom is still sitting at the table. “Don't say ‘butts,' Breezy.”

Bree rolls her eyes.

“You're both playing for second place.” Ann is chewing on another big bite of spaghetti, so her words come out all squishy and garbled. “I have a plan too.”

“I'm glad to hear you're all so keen on winning,” says Mom. “You guys about ready to start?”

Ann swallows her last bite. “Ready or not.”

First we have to clear the table, but then Mom hands out the notebooks and pens. “OK. On your mark…get set…The Bennett children Winner's Game has officially begun!”

“Ann, you're the best sister ever,” I blurt out as fast as I can, then quickly strike a check mark in my notebook.

“Thank you, Cade,” she replies politely.

“You're also really pretty,” Bree tells Ann, though it is obvious she doesn't mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Bree, you're the best sister too,” I gush.
Check mark
!
“And you're…um, pretty, I guess.”
Another check mark
!

Bree gives me her “you're an idiot” look. “You ‘guess'? That's not very nice.” She flips to the second page of her spiral pad and announces, “That's one point for me, and one point
against
you. Wait, two points against you, because you also told Ann she was the best sister ever, so you must've lied to me. Ha! You're losing points faster than you're gaining them, little brother!”

“Well, taking points away from me is mean, so I'm taking two points away from you for taking two points away from me!” I quickly mark two negative points next to Bree's name on the second page of my notebook. “Now we're even.”

“Heck no!” hisses Bree. “If it's mean for me, it's mean for you too, so another two points against you, plus one more for raising your voice.” She turns to Ann before I can reply. “Now, to gain back the points that Tweedle-Dumb took away…Ann, you have great hair, I really like your outfit today, and I don't like to admit it, but you're really smart.”

Ann smiles. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you.”

I need some quick points too. “Ann, I'm glad you got your braces off last year. You look much better without them.”

“Thanks, Cade, that means a lot to me.”

“
And
,” I continue before Bree can say anything else, “you're a great swimmer. I always liked watching your meets, back before…well, you know. And I'll be really happy once you get a new heart, because you're really nice and stuff and I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“Awww, thanks, Bud.”

I mark a few more points for myself, figuring that's probably enough to get me back to zero. “Oh, and Bree, that's three more points against you for taking my three points, and minus another one for yelling, and one more for calling me dumb.”

“I said
Tweedle
-Dumb,” she growls. “And the way you're acting now, you're proving my point.”

“Fine,” I tell her. “Minus another one.”

Bree and I go back and forth for several more minutes, each of us taking away more points from the other in a never-ending circle of meanness. Once in a while we stop to give Ann a compliment, but we are both bleeding “kindness points” quickly. The math is getting fuzzy, because I don't know exactly how many points Bree has taken from my total, but based on the number of marks next to her name in my notebook, I'm guessing we're both nearing fifty points
in the hole.

That's about the time when Ann stands up, seeming superhappy at the way the first five minutes of the Winner's Game is going. “I love it when a plan comes together,” she says.

Bree and I both shut up instantly.

“What do you mean?” asks Bree.

“Nothing.”

“So what if we're a little behind,” I say. “It's not like you have any points, Ann.”

“Oh really?” She flips open her notepad and quickly flashes a long list of tally marks.

“You didn't say a single nice thing to either of us!” explodes Bree. “What are you giving yourself points for?”

Batting her eyelashes, she says, “
For kindness
. Every time you said something nice to me, I said ‘thank you' back. I was being polite, which is one of the nicest, kindest things you can do.” She takes a long, proud breath, then quips, “We've barely even started, and I already know who's going to win this week. And it's not either of you.”

Bree and I look at each other, and then at Mom. “Can she get points for saying ‘thank you'?” asks Bree.

“Well…she was being very sweet about it.”

“Fine,” Bree mutters. “But I'm marking a negative point against her for gloating.”

“OK, Sis,” replies Ann in a sugary-sweet voice. “If that'll make you feel better, I'll sacrifice a point. But I don't want to take one away from you in return…because it just wouldn't be nice.” She smiles happily, then says, “By the way, you guys are both so cute when you fight. I know that's really nice of me to say, but consider it a freebie.”

“Well, this isn't going like I'd hoped,” admits Mom. “Cade, Bree, don't count yourselves out, though. You have the whole rest of the week ahead of you. Just pace yourselves and you can get back in this thing.”

I nod, but somehow I get the feeling Mom is wrong, and that she knows she's wrong.

Throughout the rest of the day Bree and I keep at it, going back and forth looking for things that the other person says or does that we don't like.

To be honest, it's actually very tiring keeping up with her constant mean looks—and even meaner words—but I do my best, right up until I go to bed.

Over breakfast the next morning I mark a point against her for slurping her cereal too loud, which I am positive she is doing on purpose just to annoy me.

After breakfast she takes one point away from me for accidentally splashing water on her while I'm rinsing my bowl.

Then I take a point from her for interrupting me when I'm talking to Mom.

She takes one from me for taking too long in the bathroom.

I subtract another from her for not saying “Excuse me” when she burps.

She subtracts one from me for farting.

And on and on…

By the end of the second day, Bree calls it quits. “It's not working, Mom,” I hear her say in Mom's room. “Look at me and Cade,” she continues. “I think we're fighting even more than we did before. And I'm so far behind Ann that there's no way I can win this stupid thing.”

“Well, what is Ann doing differently than you two? She's been totally cheerful since the game started, and she has more reasons than the rest of us not to be.”

“I don't know.”

“Well, let's find out. I'm not ready to give up just yet.” A few seconds later Mom comes out of her bedroom dressed in pajamas and calls up the stairs. “Ann! Can you come down here for a second?”

Ann appears in the stairwell a minute later. “What's up, O kind mother of mine?” she asks with a smile and that same sugary-sweet voice.

Mom smiles, shaking her head. “What's gotten into you?”

“Nothing. What's up?”

“I just want to see your scorecard.”

“Why?”

“I want to see how many points you've taken away from Cade and Bree.”

Ann smiles again and hands her the notebook. Mom turns to the second page, glances up at her almost immediately, and then a little grin splits her face. “Very interesting.”

“What is?” I ask.

She doesn't answer me directly. Instead she says, “Cade and Bree, give me your notebooks and have a seat.” She opens them one at a time and tears out the second page, then crumples up the papers and throws them on the floor. Then she motions to Ann. “Care to tell us why you didn't give your brother or sister any negative points?”

Bree and I share a guilty look before Ann speaks. “I was planning on it, but then I saw how quickly Cade and Bree were losing points, and I saw an opportunity. It was simple math. I figured if I didn't respond to their unkindness with more unkindness, then they can't take points away from me, and I'll always stay in the lead. So far so good.” She still has that goofy grin on her face.