Two Cool for School (7 page)

“Yes. But the thing is, I feel like if I let on that I like him, that's going to make Lindsey mad, and I really want to stay on her good side, so
I've been trying to avoid him since we got here. But he keeps showing up when I don't expect him to and—ow! Why did you just kick me?”

Ava raised her eyebrows meaningfully. Alex's blood froze, and she turned oh-so-casually to her left.

Corey was standing right next to her.

“Hey,” he said to Alex.

“H-h-hey!” said Alex breathily, her face turning bright pink to the tips of her ears.

Ava tried to sidle away, but she was semi-trapped between the corner of the stage and a French Club sign-up table. She turned toward the table and pretended to be engrossed in a French menu, but she kept her ears open.

“So, like, I assume you're going to the game next Friday?” Corey asked. Then quickly he added, “Because, I mean, obviously you are because your dad's like, the coach.”

Ava turned slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye. He was blushing! He was staring down at his shoes with his shoulders hunched and his hands plunged into his pockets. It looked like he really did like Alex. That was fine with Ava; now that she knew Corey was supportive of their dad's team—and Ava
playing football!—she approved of him.

“So, pretty much everyone in our grade goes to Sal's Pizzeria after the game? And I was wondering if you wanted to, like, hang out there after too?”

“Like a date?” Alex blurted out.

Ava cringed inwardly.

Corey was looking right and left, as though seeking an escape route in case he had to sprint away suddenly. “Well, sort of. Everyone is going to be there too but, like, yeah, I guess it's like a date.”

There was an excruciating silence. Ava ducked down to the table, trying to look like she was completely absorbed in the sign-up list for a bus trip to an upcoming production of Albert Camus's
La Peste
.

“Um, well, uh, maybe that would be fun,” stammered out Alex. “I just need to, um, check with my parents, because it's my dad's first game and all. I don't know if we're doing some family thing or something.”

“Okay, cool,” said Corey, and darted away as quickly as he had appeared.

“Ava!” hissed Alex. “That was so—I was so—awkward! And what if Lindsey saw?” She
whipped her head around to look at the cheerleading table. Sure enough, Lindsey was staring at her.

Ava followed her sister's gaze. This time, the look on Lindsey's face was less angry and more . . . hurt. Ava almost felt sorry for her.

Ava sighed. “Come on. Let's go rescue Mom from the bake sale.”

“Her name's Layla,” said Kylie. “Isn't she beautiful?”

“Yes,” said Ava, swallowing. “Beautiful in a very large way.”

Kylie laughed and patted the horse's flank. “She's ten years old and gentle as a lamb, I promise. She's the best kind of horse to ride if you're not used to riding.”

“Like I said, I haven't been on a horse since I was a little kid, at the county fair. So it's an understatement to say I'm not used to riding.”

Layla tossed her head and snorted, as though she were dismissing Ava's fears.

“Put your foot here,” said Kylie. “I'll give you a boost up. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.”

She helped Ava put her foot in the stirrup. With a little shove from Kylie, Ava pulled herself high into the saddle and swung her other leg around until she was sitting on Layla's back.

She looked down at Kylie and felt a thrill of excitement, mixed with a healthy dose of terror. “I'm so high up!” she said.

“Yep, she's a quarter horse. She's a big girl. But just hold the reins like I told you, and she'll follow me and Chester, I promise.”

“Thanks for inviting my sister, too,” said Ava. “Sorry she couldn't make it, but she'd already made plans to go to the mall today. Which is not my idea of a fun way to spend a Saturday.”

“I agree,” said Kylie. “I only go to the mall when it's absolutely necessary. I like clothes, but I'd rather make my own or go to a thrift store.”

Ava watched Kylie swing herself nimbly into her horse's saddle. She sat high, her back straight, her shoulders squared.

“How long have you been riding?” Ava asked as Layla plodded up alongside Chester.

“Since I was teeny,” said Kylie with a laugh. “This has been my family's ranch for generations. Did you know that one out of six cowboys
on the American frontier was African American? I have riding in my veins.”

“That's so cool,” said Ava. “I like that you're a cowboy. Because speaking of things you don't see girls doing every day, I just signed up for the football team.”

“How'd that go?” asked Kylie. “Did you get any pushback?”

“Not really,” said Ava, patting Layla's glossy neck. “The boys mostly just whispered as I walked away.”

“Well, good for you for doing it,” said Kylie. “People around here have some pretty set ideas about how things ought to work. I think it's great to shake things up a little.”

She made a little clicking sound, and Chester took two prancing steps. “Now, grip Layla tight with your knees. I know how to ride both Western and English style, but I thought Western would be easier for you. The saddle's a little easier to sit in, and we can trot without posting.”

Ava had no clue what Kylie was talking about, but she didn't care. It was exhilarating to be up on the horse. Although she hadn't realized how hard it was to grip the saddle with your knees. She'd probably be a little sore tomorrow.

“I thought we'd be wearing cowboy hats,” she said, adjusting her helmet strap a little farther under her chin.

“Nope, helmets are much safer,” said Kylie. “Even the best horses can get startled and bolt. Two years ago I got thrown from Chester. We were on a trail, and the horse in front of us threw a rock up and hit him in the chest. He got spooked and bolted. I landed on my head but I was fine, thanks to my helmet.”

Ava gulped and gripped the saddle tighter with her knees.

Kylie made a little clicking noise again and flicked the reins almost imperceptibly, and Chester led the way out of the paddock at a gentle pace. Layla followed a nose behind.

“I'm riding!” said Ava. “This is so amazing!” She loved being up high, and feeling the wind on her face. She loved the smell of the leather tack, and the silky feel of Layla's mane.

“You're doing well!” Kylie said over her shoulder. “You're a natural.”

“Thanks,” said Ava. “I love animals.” She patted Layla's neck again. “I wish I could ride Layla all day instead of going to class.”

“Having some issues?” Kylie clicked her
tongue, and Chester slowed so that the two horses could ride side by side across the wide, flat grassland.

“Mostly with English,” said Ava. “And a little in social studies, when the reading gets boring. But in general, school seems so much harder this year. I'm having concentration problems.”

“Are you distracted by anything, or anyone? Maybe . . . Jack Valdeavano? I saw you guys talking at the Activities Fair!”

“What? No! Well, I mean, he's nice and all. I do like him. But I've got this complicated situation with a guy back in Massachusetts . . . it's a long story.”

“For the record, Jack's a really great guy,” said Kylie, as she turned Chester's nose to the left. Layla tossed her head as though to agree with the decision, and turned and followed in step with Chester. “But what do you mean by ‘concentration problems'?”

Ava told Kylie about her struggles with
White Fang
, and her two failed pop quizzes.

Kylie nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you should talk to the teacher, or your parents. Because I hate to break this to you, but you have to maintain a C average to be allowed to play sports.”

That was a blow. “Oh,” said Ava. “I didn't know that. I went to after-school study hall a couple of times, but I couldn't concentrate there, either. Maybe I should talk to my mom and dad.” She was quiet for a few minutes.

“Want to try a trot?” asked Kylie.

“Okay,” said Ava.

“Just sit up straight and keep gripping the saddle,” instructed Kylie. “Layla will do what Chester does.”

“I'm glad you told me to wear pants,” said Ava. “This could be painful with bare legs.”

“Yep, but you're doing great. If you get good at this, we'll have to suit you up in chaps,” said Kylie. And with a little cluck, she and Chester started off, with Ava and Layla right behind.

“So what's going on with you and Corey?” Emily asked Alex as they strolled through the mall. They were on their way to meet up with a group of girls, some of whom Alex had met and some of whom she didn't know.

“Corey? Oh. Nothing. Nothing at all,” said Alex quickly.

“Awww, come on, Alex,” Emily wheedled. “Anyone who spends two seconds with the two of you can see you guys like each other.”

“They can?” asked Alex anxiously. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face Emily. “Okay, fine. I confess: I do like him. And he even asked me out! But I don't know what to do, because I get the feeling that Lindsey likes him too.” Alex paused and tried to gauge Emily's reaction. It was possible she was treading into dangerous waters here—Emily and Lindsey were close. “I just—I don't want to make Lindsey mad at me. Do you know what's going on between them?”

“Come on,” said Emily. “We have twenty minutes before we meet up with everyone. I could use a smoothie. Let's sit and talk about this.”

A few minutes later they were sitting across a table from each other in the food court—a much fancier food court than Alex had known at the malls back in Massachusetts. Alex had a mango-orange smoothie, and Emily a strawberry-banana.

“So here's the thing,” said Emily. “A few years ago, Lindsey's parents and Corey's parents opened a business together. A restaurant. And I think they had some sort of argument over
it, and stopped being partners. I think Lindsey's family is now having some money problems.”

Alex nodded. “I heard that too.”

Emily tossed her long blond hair out of her face and took a sip of her pink smoothie.

Alex took a sip of her smoothie too. She was dying for more information from Emily but didn't want to look desperate.

“Anyway, I guess their parents don't get along anymore. So it got awkward that Lindsey and Corey were sort of going out.”

Alex sat back in her chair and regarded Emily. “That does sound awkward,” she said.

“I guess last year the strain got to them, and they stopped hanging out. She doesn't really talk about it, but I think you're right—she still likes him. Anyway, I know Lindsey can seem a little . . . mean sometimes, but she really is a good friend. I think it does upset her to see Corey interested in someone else.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, like you.” Emily leaned forward and fixed Alex with a serious look. “Do you want my opinion?”

Alex nodded her head vigorously.

“I think Lindsey would eventually get over it
if you started going out with Corey. But if you want to be friends with her, maybe going out with him isn't the best idea in the world.”

“That makes sense,” said Alex dejectedly. She thought about Corey: his smile, his dimples, how adorably nervous he got around her. But it probably wasn't worth it to make Lindsey mad. “She seems like she already doesn't like me,” said Alex, staring miserably into her smoothie cup.

“That's not true,” said Emily kindly. “I think she's got other stuff going on. Last year she was one of the best cheerleaders on the AMS team, even as a sixth grader. But now she's saying she might go out for the marching squad instead. I have a feeling it might be a financial thing. Being on the cheerleading squad is expensive.”

Alex covered her face in her hands. “That explains why she told me she might not go out for the team,” she said. “I had no idea cheerleading was more expensive. And I acted all surprised and stuff. I can't believe how clueless I was.” She groaned.

“Don't worry about it,” said Emily brightly. She stood up. “Come on. Let's go meet up with the rest of the gang.”

Sunday morning Ava stepped out of bed and almost fell down. Her legs were screaming! She'd never realized how much you had to clench your thigh muscles to stay in the saddle of a horse.

Tommy stopped with his fork midway to his mouth as Ava hobbled into the kitchen. “What's the matter with you?”

Coach was ladling pancake batter onto the hot griddle. He turned and smiled. “She went riding is what's the matter,” he said. “Little saddle sore, sweetheart?”

“Just a little,” said Ava grumpily, hobbling toward the refrigerator. She pulled out the orange juice and then sank into a chair with a groan.