The Winner's Game (20 page)

I
GENERALLY DREAD
Mondays, because it seems like that's the day for everything to go wrong. And though the workweek is just getting started, I always feel like I'm already behind on everything.

On this Monday, however, I'm determined that things will be different. I'm on vacation, which means I don't have to face the corporate ignoramuses who usually occupy my Monday mornings when I should be getting a head start on my contracts. Then again, maybe I'm no better off than normal, because I have to face a certain teenage girl who is walking on air from the moment she crawls out of bed. Her perma-grin when she comes down for breakfast confirms that she is still reliving—and reveling in—last night's success with a certain teenage boy.

I'm not exactly happy about the situation, because I know how this is going to end, but it's nice seeing her feel good about something. She needs something to feel good about right now; I just wish it wasn't a hormonal young man.

I try talking to her while we're eating, but her head is somewhere else. Just to test whether she is aware of anything beyond the thoughts in her head, I casually tell her she looks like a cow. Not to be rude or anything, just to test her reaction.

“I love cows,” she replies dreamily while staring out the window at the ocean.

After breakfast she puts her arm around me and says, “Your bovine daughter wants to take the Walrus for a spin so she can practice driving.”

I know I should say no. I want to. I'm about to. And then I look into her Guernsey-eyes, and I can't bring myself to do anything that might spoil her current state of happiness. But I only agree to it because the Walrus is a tank on wheels. Any other car, and I swear I would not give in.
I swear.

Emily stays at home to go through stuff in the attic, but Bree and Cade tag along for the ride to Seaside, about ten miles up the road, hoping they might convince me to stop and play at the giant arcade there. Video games are out of the question, but I do splurge on a bag of fresh saltwater taffy for the ride home, most of which is already gone by the time we reenter Cannon Beach and rumble through the center of town.

About eight blocks from the house, out of the blue, Bree gasps as loudly as anyone can gasp. With a mouthful of taffy she exclaims, “Is that—?” As we all turn to see where she is pointing, she screams, “It is! It's Tanner!”

Only Tanner isn't alone.

Worse, the short, blond-haired girl hanging on his arm is not just pretty, she's a knockout.

There. Now it feels like a Monday morning.

With Ann's eyes fixed on the couple, the car heaves to the right, nearly hitting the curb.

“Just keep driving,” I tell her emphatically as I grab the wheel to help straighten us out. “No sense in crashing over this.”

I keep a sharp eye on Tanner as Ann regains control. Near as I can tell, Tanner doesn't see us. He's in his own little world, talking and laughing with the girl like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I knew this would happen! Oh, that rotten little son of a gun…

Rather than easing carefully into the driveway, Ann doesn't slow down until she absolutely has to, despite all my efforts to pump the imaginary air brake at my feet. The hard stop sends everyone sliding forward in their seats. Ann takes half a second to turn off the engine, but leaves the key in the ignition as she throws open her door and runs into the house. As she passes in front of the Walrus, I catch a glimpse of her face…dripping wet.

“Great,” Cade mumbles from the backseat, “there goes the summer.”

“There goes more than that,” bemoans Bree.

“Let's try to think of Ann,” I tell them. For several moments, we all sit there quietly; none of us are quite sure what to make of what just happened. After a bit, I venture to ask Bree what she's thinking, because the look on her face says it's something serious.

“I think this sucks,” she blurts out. “Did you see her? She's barely taller than me!” She huffs loudly, then adds, “
So stupid
.”

Cade laughs in her face. “Ha! You wish you were the one holding his arm!”

With a scowl that could kill, she replies, “Be quiet, Twerp. You don't know anything.”

“I know you like Tanner.”

“Just
shut up
! Dad, can you make him shut up? Actually, better yet, let me out. I want to go for a walk on the beach.”

“Sure, Bree. Just…stick to the beach, OK?”

She doesn't respond, but I let her out anyway. Without bothering to go inside, Bree marches around the near side of the house and makes a straight line through the tall grass to the beach and then disappears from sight.

“It's gonna be a bad day today, isn't it, Dad,” Cade says after a minute.

“Probably so.” I sigh. “It's Monday.”

I
HATE IT WHEN
my little brother is right.

He said I wished it was me hanging on Tanner's arm instead of that blond girl, and well…I did. When we first saw them, all I could think was that if I was just a year or two older, maybe Tanner would have noticed me instead of Ann, and since I don't have any of her medical problems, maybe it would have worked out.

I hate being the little sister just as much as I hate it when my little brother is right!

I don't know why I wanted to go for a walk—I guess just to blow off some steam. It seems to be working, because the farther north I go, the more I start thinking about Ann and what she must be feeling right now. I bet she's crying her eyes out, which is honestly too bad. As much as I think I'd be a better fit for Tanner—if he'd just give me a chance!—she definitely doesn't deserve what he did to her.

After twenty or thirty minutes of marching in the sand, my legs are getting tired, but I'm not ready to go back yet, so I find a nice spot on a giant piece of driftwood to rest. Not too far away, a young family—a mom and dad and two little girls, maybe seven and three years old—is building a beach fire, preparing to cook lunch over the open flames. The littlest girl seems fascinated by everything her older sister is doing. When big sister skips in the sand, little sister does the same. When big sister examines the empty shell of a dead crab, little sister squats down and grabs it from her to get a closer look. And when big sister picks up a stick and tosses it on the budding fire, so does the little one, earning both of them a stern warning from their father.

“But I'm big enough to help with the fire,” the big one says, her voice carrying on the wind.

“Maybe,” her dad replies, “But your job is to set a good example for Missy, and right now that means staying clear of the fire until we're ready for hot dogs.”

The older sister is quiet for a minute, then she says, “Daddy, I'm tired of being the big sister. When Missy's around, I can't have any fun. And I don't like her copying me all the time.”

The dad laughs, blows at the base of the fire, and then he wraps an arm around his oldest daughter and speaks quietly just to her.

I think I know what he's saying to her, even though I can't hear. It's what Dad said to me when I used to complain about Cade.

“The only reason she copies you is because she looks up to you. She wants to be just like you. That's why it's so important for you to help out and be a good example.”

I can tell the girl is thinking it over. Finally, kind of like she still doesn't want to, she turns to her younger sister, takes her by the hand, and says, “C'mon, Missy, I'll show you how to build a sand castle while Daddy makes the fire.”

I don't know why, but as I see the pair of them waddle off toward wetter sand, my eyes start to tear up. I remember vividly when Ann taught me how to make a sand castle. Just like I remember her giving me pointers on riding a bicycle, spelling my name, curling my hair, painting my nails, and a million other things she helped me with.

It's not the same now, but I remember wanting to be just like her. I, too, would follow her around like a puppy, copying everything she did and frequently taking her things because they seemed cooler than my own toys. And Ann, like this other big sister walking away from me on the beach, tolerated it. Sometimes that meant not getting to do what she wanted to do, because she was looking out for my best interest.

As the girls start building their sand castle, the older one keeps looking up, watching her father stoking the blaze. I can see in her eyes that she wants to be there too, doing big-girl stuff like putting sticks on the fire, but she dutifully stays with her younger sister.

A hint of guilt washes over me. How many times over the years did Ann miss out on things she'd rather have been doing because she was doing her duty as the big sister?

“Well, not anymore,” I whisper. “Ann deserves to play with a little fire right now.”

Before her flame burns out…

As the beach house comes into view, an idea pops in my head that could turn the whole game in my favor. Two ideas, actually. One for Ann and one for Cade. “That's it!” I say out loud.

I am totally going to win the Winner's Game!

Eager to get started on my plan, I pick up the pace. When I reach the house, Dad and Cade are on the back porch grilling hamburgers.

Dad sends Cade inside and asks me to have a seat at the picnic table.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask.

“No. I just want to talk. This whole Tanner thing…I kind of want to take your pulse a bit. You seemed a little upset that he didn't…you know, consider you instead of that other girl.”

“That's not true,” I reply defensively, even though it totally is.

“You sure? Because it kind of seems like you've had a little crush on Tanner too.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
Because it's true, but that's beside the point.

“So it didn't hurt when Tanner asked Ann out? It's natural to feel a little jealous. After all, you're getting to that age, hormonally speaking, when—”

“Stop!”

He holds up his hands to show that he's backing off. “OK, peace. I get it. That's a touchy subject. But can I just point out one thing?”

I cross my arms and wait for him to continue.

“I know I'm a little overprotective, but it's because I love you girls. I don't want either of you to get hurt. So when I see that this kid already has another girl hanging on him, after making Ann believe he was interested in her, I just hope you see what that says about him. And I hope you have enough common sense that you're not still hoping you're the next one on his list.”

Now I can feel my face burning, and it's not because I'm sitting too close to the grill. “I do have good sense, Dad. But I was thinking, maybe he doesn't really like that other girl, and maybe if I just talk to him, he'll see that—”

“Whoa. Time-out. You're still thirteen, Bree, until the end of August. Don't forget that. He's going to be a senior, and you haven't even started high school yet.” He pauses. “But besides all of that, he's shown that he's not trustworthy.”

“You don't know that.”

“So you do still have a crush on him?”

I look away briefly, then roll my eyes. “I didn't say that. And b-t-dubs, I've been around Tanner enough to know what he's really like. And I know
who
he likes.”

Dad throws up his hands in frustration. “Perfect.”

“Wait, I'm just saying that maybe I could talk to him and see—”

“The answer is no. No way, no how. Don't you see that you can't trust this guy any farther than—?”

Mom pokes her head out through the back door. “
Psst.
Dell. Sorry to interrupt, but a certain teenage boy is at the front door asking to speak to Ann.”

He shoots me another frustrated look. “Well, look at that. Speak of the devil and he comes a-knockin'.” Turning back to Mom, he asks, “What did you tell him?”

“I thought maybe you'd want to handle this one, so I told him to wait right there.”

“Does Ann know he's here?”

“Uh-huh. She's crying again.”

He exhales. “Fine. I'll take care of it.”

I follow Mom and Dad into the living room. Mom and I remain back just a bit as Dad continues to the front door.

“Hi,” says Tanner. “Is Ann here?”

“She is.”

“Can she like…come down? I wanted to tell her what to wear on our date.”

“You think you're still going out with her?”

Tanner looks confused. “Why wouldn't I?”

“Oh, I think you know,” Dad replies as diplomatically as he can.

“Sorry?”

“Doubt that.”

“Huh?”

Dad steps closer to the door, blocking our view. But we can still hear. “Listen, I'll make this very simple. Last night you and I had what I thought was a pretty clear verbal agreement that you would not do anything to upset Ann unnecessarily. Not only did you upset her, you broke her heart, and her heart can't take that. So yes, Ann is here, but she doesn't want to see you. Please, just leave her alone. Bree too, for that matter, in case you had any ideas. Consider this home officially off-limits.”

“But I don't—”

“Good-bye, Tanner.” Dad closes the door before Tanner can get another word out.

I can feel the heat from my face again. “That was really harsh.”

“That didn't come anywhere near harsh, sweetie. Trust me, I was holding back.”

Mom is watching through the window.

“Is he leaving?” I ask her.

She nods. I join Mom and watch as Tanner walks up the road in a bit of a stupor. Periodically he stops, turns around, and looks at the house, and then continues walking.

“Good riddance,” Dad mumbles as he heads back out to tend the burgers.

“It breaks my heart too,” Mom says, almost to herself.

“What does?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I just wanted Ann to have a little slice of happiness. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Yeah,” I whisper as Tanner turns a corner in the distance and disappears. “Me too.”