A Lot to Tackle (11 page)

“See?” Mr. Whittaker said. “Now, come back on the bus, Mike.”

“Give me a minute.” Coach Sackett strained to loosen the lug nuts with the wrench.

“There's no time. We need to get moving, or we will miss this practice.” Mr. Whittaker's voice grew harder.

“I'm not leaving my family on the side of the road.” Coach wedged the jack under the car. He pumped the handle to raise the car.

“You must get back on that bus. You are putting the team in jeopardy,” Mr. Kelly said, getting out of one of the cars. Now he stood with Mr. Whittaker.

“All I'm asking for is a minute here,” Coach growled. He stood and wiped his hands on his khaki shorts.

The football players began to pound on the windows. The bus appeared to shake.

“Mike, your job specifies that you are to be on that bus with those boys, not with your family,” Mr. Whittaker said. “I'm speaking on behalf of the Booster Club.”

“I agree.” Another man had left his car and joined the adults. “I'm speaking on behalf of the school board.”

“I can't leave until the tire's changed,” Coach protested.

The adults moved, so they now stood on one side of the suitcase-comforter barrier. Alex and Ava remained on the other side with the spare tire and the tools.

“Just get on the bus and do your job!” cried Mr. Kelly. He lifted his cuff to show everyone the time on his watch.

“Do my job? In this town, it seems as if football coach is everyone's job.” Coach threw his arms up in exasperation.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Mr. Whittaker countered.

“If you just step back and let him work, Michael will fix the tire
and
win the game,” Mrs. Sackett said.

“Not if we get there too late to practice,” the man on the school board grumbled. “This is not about what
you
want, Coach.”

“This is bad,” Ava murmured. “They'll never let us stay in Ashland now.”

Alex watched the boys slide the bus windows
down to hear the argument. She watched the adults yelling about the time and coaching and who knew what else. She studied the tools at her feet and the car jacked up off the ground.

This is crazy,
she thought.
The tire could've been changed by now.

She clicked on her phone and found a step-by-step tire-changing video. Not too hard, she decided.

“Ava,” Alex said. “Help me.” She handed her sister her phone.

Ava glanced at the video. “But we don't know how. We could mess it up.”

For a second, Alex wavered. Ava was right, they
could
mess it up. But then she heard the adults shouting. She remembered the time. She thought about the team not practicing and not winning, and her dad losing his job and her family leaving Ashland.

“We can't think like that. We should try.” She grabbed the tire wrench. “I think I remove the lug nuts.” Alex crouched next to the tire. “These look like lug nuts, right?”

Ava crouched next to her. She held the phone screen next to the tire, as if playing a matching game. “They have to be.”

Alex twisted the wrench. The lug nuts popped off. She handed them one by one to Ava. Then, using both hands, she pulled off the tire. “Whoa!” She stumbled under its weight. None of the adults noticed. Their argument heated up. Mrs. Kelly joined her husband.

With Ava's help, Alex placed the flat tire on the ground next to the spare. “We're both going to have to lift the spare. On three,” Alex commanded. “One . . . two . . . three.” They hoisted the tire up and into place. Ava was strong from all that football conditioning.

Alex focused all her attention on the video. “Okay, now I need to put the lug nuts back on.” Ava dropped the shiny pieces of metal into her sister's hand, and Alex tightened them into place. Then Alex instructed Ava how to use the jack to lower the car.

“This is fun,” said Ava, pumping on the jack.

“It is, kind of,” Alex agreed. She opened the trunk and put the flat tire where the spare used to be, then began to rearrange their stuff. She ordered it much better than their mom had. She tucked Poppet in beside her pillow.

As soon as their barrier disappeared, the
boys on the bus noticed the tire. They began to whistle and clap.

“What's going on?” Mr. Whittaker stopped arguing.

Alex waved the shiny hubcap over her head. “Excuse me!” she called. “If you don't want to miss that practice, everyone better start driving.”

“But the tire? How?” Coach Sackett scratched his head as he walked toward the car.

“It's all changed.” Alex handed him the wrench, and he checked that she'd properly tightened the lug nuts.

“Amazing!” he declared as he replaced the hubcap. “My twelve-year-old twins saved the day.”

“It was Alex's idea,” Ava said. She smiled warmly at her sister. The first time since the Lindsey-Corey argument.

“What a take-charge girl!” Mr. Whittaker patted her back. “Alex can do it all.”

“No, I can't,” Alex said. “I can't play football, and I can't drive that bus. Go, go, go!”

Because Mrs. Sackett had to drive more slowly on the spare tire, the Kellys agreed to stay near the Sacketts' car for the rest of the trip. Coach Sackett raced onto the bus with Mr. Whittaker. The players cheered, and the bus sped away.

“Alex is a dynamo!” Mrs. Kelly gushed to their mom.

As they settled back into the car, Ava sniggered. “You're a dynamo? Who says ‘dynamo'?” she teased.

“Okay, maybe not the best word choice,” Alex agreed. She smoothed her hair and sat up straighter. The old Alex was back!

No, not the old Alex, she decided after a minute. She wasn't perfect. She couldn't do everything all at once and do it well.
But that doesn't mean I can't get great grades and do great things,
she thought.
I'm not giving up on my dreams because of one bad week
.

She looked over the invisible line at Ava. She didn't know what was upsetting her twin more—the girls at school turning against her or the chance that Coach wouldn't be brought back next season. Alex suddenly wanted to fix everything for her.

One thing at a time,
Alex cautioned herself. She'd let Tommy and the team work on winning the game. She'd find a way for their whole group to be friends again.

Usually Ava hated noise and crowds, but not tonight. Sitting in the university stadium stands filled with Ashland orange and blue and hearing fans from all over root for the team her dad coached filled her with pride. She was a part of this too. A part of the town. A part of the team. In a strange way, she felt as if these strangers were rooting for her.

“Go Tigers!” she yelled spontaneously, as they walked down the bleachers to get in the concession stand line Friday night.

“Give 'em that roar, Sackett!” called a man she vaguely recognized from the car wash in their town.

And she did. She roared. A woman snapped her picture, and for once, Ava didn't care. Their team was ahead at halftime.

“Ave, do you want a soft pretzel or popcorn?” Alex asked when they reached the front of the line. Mrs. Sackett ordered three bottles of water.

“Pretzel.” Ava spotted a woman with a long braid slung over one shoulder waving merrily at her. She raised her hand to wave back, then abruptly dropped it to her side.
What's
she
doing here?
she wondered. She'd never thought Mrs. Cookson would like football. She'd certainly never counted on her traveling to Austin for the game.

“Here.” Alex pushed the warm pretzel into Ava's hand as they headed back to their seats. Oh no! In a matter of seconds, her mom and Mrs. Cookson would cross paths. She couldn't let that happen. Not now. Not yet. Mrs. Cookson would mention the interview on Monday, and Mrs. Sackett would be confused, and
ugh!
Ava groaned.

She'd planned to tell her mom before the game. Then they'd had the flat tire yesterday. When they'd arrived at the hotel, Mrs. Sackett helped settle all the football players, and then she and some of the
other parents hosted a late-night coffee-and-cake party in the lobby. Today had been all about the game. They'd attended a pregame tailgate and had even been interviewed by two local newspapers and one local TV station.

And now the Tigers were ahead.
Maybe Mom won't have to go for the interview after all,
Ava figured. Then Ava remembered her own game. And her failed kick. Anything could happen in the second half.

“Mustard!” Ava cried. “I need mustard.”

Alex wrinkled her nose. “Since when? You don't like mustard.”

“I do now.” She grabbed her mom's sleeve. “Mom, come to the condiments table with us.” She expertly maneuvered her mom and sister away from Mrs. Cookson. The condiments table was crowded. Ava successfully tucked herself and her mom behind some large ex-football players drowning their fries in ketchup.

“Here's the mustard,” Alex said, pointing to the large yellow jug.

“Oh.” Ava contemplated squirting it on her pretzel. She was hungry, and the warm pretzel smelled so good. Why ruin it? “Actually, I've changed my mind.”

“I knew it!” Alex said triumphantly. “You can't fool me.”

“Hello, Ava. Enjoying the game?” Ava was startled to find Mrs. Cookson by her side. “This must be the twin sister you told me about.”

“I'm Alex,” Alex introduced herself before Ava could speak.

“Hi, I'm Michelle Cookson. Are you Laura Sackett?” She turned to their mom, who smiled back. Over the past day, Mrs. Sackett had become used to strangers coming up to her. Their whole family had gained instant celebrity.

“I am. Great game, isn't it? Both teams are playing so well,” Mrs. Sackett replied, even though she had no idea who Mrs. Cookson was.

“I'm so glad we get to say hello now. I'm looking forward to hearing more about your ceramics,” Mrs. Cookson said in her warm, husky voice.

“You are?” Mrs. Sackett smiled, but Ava could see her desperately trying to place the tall woman with the braid. She wore a white linen dress, which made her stand out among the fans in sports jerseys and logo sweatshirts.

“I'm curious to hear your thoughts on integrating ceramics into the existing arts curriculum.
In a private school, we are fortunate not to be restricted to certain mediums. There's a lot more freedom to experiment at Rosewood. It's what makes our school so special,” Mrs. Cookson said.

“I'm sure it is, but, if you don't mind, who—” Mrs. Sackett began, obviously uncomfortable at not being able to follow the conversation.

“Oh, Mom. Mrs. Kelly is waving you over. She seems desperate to tell you something. Do you think it has to do with PJ? I hope he's feeling okay. He looked healthy in the first half, but you never know. You should go speak with her.” The words tumbled out. Mrs. Kelly hadn't waved, but Ava had spotted her in the crowd. Ava didn't know how else to pull her mom away.

“Go, go, Laura. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other later,” Mrs. Cookson said graciously.

“Who was that?” Alex asked after they'd walked away.

“Truthfully, I have no idea.” Mrs. Sackett shook her head. “I'm usually so good at remembering names and faces. This game must have rattled my brains. Or else I'm getting old and forgetful.”

“You're not getting old,” Ava assured her. “But
she seemed really nice. Didn't she?” She would fill her mom in later. After the game. After the Tigers won.

Please, please win,
she sent a silent prayer to the football gods.

As the fourth quarter approached, Ava wasn't sure the football gods had heard. Or maybe they had and were mocking her. She should never have lied about Mrs. Kelly wanting to talk to her mom about PJ's health. The Tigers had maintained a slight lead throughout the entire game, but now PJ looked sluggish. His pace had slowed, and his passes lacked the speed and precision that had brought the team this far.

“PJ's not back to his full strength,” Mrs. Sackett explained when Ava vented her frustration. The score was now tied.

“Well, he better do something. Someone better do something!” Ava cried. They were so close to winning. She couldn't imagine leaving Ashland because one boy hadn't been feeling well. Especially not if that boy was Andy's cousin!

She spotted the large Kelly/Baker family sitting a few sections away from them. Most of their friends who had traveled to the game sat with their families. Ava hadn't really spoken to
anyone since arriving here. She and Alex had stayed in their room during the coffee-and-cake party, eating room service and watching a movie. At the tailgate, their family had been swarmed by well-wishers and reporters.

“Ave!” Alex grasped her arm and squeezed it. The fourth quarter was starting. “Dad is pulling PJ out. He's putting Tommy in!”

“Seriously?” Ava cried. Their mom began to cheer.

“Is this a good thing?” Alex asked.

“I'm not sure.” Ava was nervous for Tommy. She couldn't see his face behind his helmet. She couldn't judge how confident he felt. “I want it to be a good thing.”

Ava, Alex, and Mrs. Sackett balanced at the edge of their seats as Tommy threw pass after pass. They were solid passes, and the game slowly moved upfield.

“You can do this, Tommy!” Ava cheered until her voice was hoarse.

As time fell off the clock, Alex complained, “He's playing it too safe. He needs to do more!”

“No, he's playing it smart,” Ava corrected. “He's keeping the game in our control.” Slow and steady would let them win. Risky hero maneuvers
could ruin it all. Ava trusted that Tommy knew that.
Of course he does,
she thought. Coach had trained him just as he'd trained her. Sacketts knew how to play football.