by Lin Oliver
“You looking forward to your match on Sunday?” my dad asked as we drove down Arizona Avenue past the promenade. By the way, that’s the promenade where I wouldn’t be shopping for shoes with my friends.
“At least I get to leave the house,” I answered. “That’s a major treat these days.”
“Well, it’s an important tournament. It’s a lead-up to the Junior Nationals, and teams from all over the state are coming in. It’s a real opportunity for you girls to be seen. It should attract quite a crowd.”
“We’ll be ready. We can practice all day Saturday.”
“Not so fast. Your sister made a plan to go do something with her friends in the afternoon, which I’m not happy about, but she said it was for school so I couldn’t say no.”
“Ms. Carew arranged for the Truth Tellers to get together with a group from Lincoln and one other school,” I said. “They’re calling it the Circle of Truth.”
“I don’t see the fun in that,” he said. “Sounds terribly serious. By the way, I ran into Tom Ballard at the club this morning. The city councilman. He was doing some yoga on the beach. I think you girls should do some yoga stretching. It’s very good for preventing injuries.”
“Spencer’s dad?”
“He’s a nice guy. Anyway, I told him about the tournament Sunday, and he said he might stop by. There’ll be lots of hands to shake, he said. It’s tough being a politician. You’ve got to love people.”
I think he yakked on about the qualities it takes to run for public office, but to tell the truth, I had stopped listening. There was only one thought in my mind, the hope that Mr. Ballard would bring his son to the match.
When we got home, Sammie and Ryan and GoGo were waiting for us on the couch, sitting there all lined up like a row of ducks.
“What’s this?” Dad asked, tensing up a bit. I have to admit, they did look a little like a firing squad.
“Family meeting,” Sammie answered.
“Oh yeah?” he said suspiciously. “What’s it about?”
“The subject is prison breaks,” Ryan said, winking at me. Yes, he actually winked, and although I hate to admit it, the guy can pull off a wink, a rare quality in a boy.
“Prison breaks. Good subject,” my dad nodded. “That would include some of my favorite movies.”
Wow, Ms. King sure knew what she was talking about. At the very mention of prison movies, my dad’s eyes lit up and his tension seemed to disappear. Whatever this family meeting was about, Ryan had set the scene for it very well.
My dad sat down on the flowered chair, and I perched on the ottoman. Sammie cleared her throat and began.
“I called this meeting to discuss a change of plans,” she said. “And I just want to add that Ryan and I are in agreement, so we already have two votes on our side.”
“Unfortunately, this family is not a democracy. So let’s hear what you have in mind, and your mother and I will make the decision together.”
“As you know,” Sammie went on, “the Saturday after next I am having my party here. So far, seventeen of my friends are coming. Everyone is really excited about it.”
“If the change you’re about to suggest is that I not be here to chaperone, you can forget it right now,” Dad said.
“Just listen, Dad,” Sammie responded. “It has nothing to do with you. We only want sixteen kids at the party, so we have to eliminate someone. I’ve gone over the list and decided who to eliminate. Sorry, Charlie, it’s you.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked her. “I’m only going to be here because I’m grounded and have nowhere else to go.”
“That’s exactly the point,” Ryan said. “You should be with your friends while Sammie is with hers. Let’s face it, try as you might, you’re just not geek material.”
“We’re not geeks,” Sammie said. “We’re explorers on the path of our true selves.”
“Same difference,” Ryan said.
“What’s your point, Sammie?” Dad asked. “I’m starving.”
“Ryan and I think Charlie has done such a great job showing that she’s sorry that we believe she should be allowed to go to Ben’s party,” she declared. “That solves both of our problems.”
I had to hand it to Sammie. This was a clever approach, one that caught all of us by surprise, even me.
“Also, for your consideration,” she went on, “I’ve gotten all sixteen members of the Truth Tellers to sign this petition in support of Charlie.”
She stood up and handed a rolled-up piece of paper to Dad. When he unrolled it, I saw that it was titled FREE CHARLIE! and had a whole bunch of signatures.
My dad looked at me suspiciously.
“Did you put her up to this?”
“I’m totally shocked, Dad.” And that was the truth. I had seen Sammie designing something on her computer a couple of nights before, but I had no idea she had put together this whole plan. She was being very brave, because as I think you’ve probably noticed, our dad is not an easy guy.
“Phyllis?” he said, turning to GoGo. “You’re in on this, too?”
“I am not,” she answered. “I am only here because I was asked to attend. This is a parental decision. I would never interfere.”
“So what do you say, Dad?” Ryan asked. “Can we spring the girl from prison?”
“I’m not inclined to say yes,” Dad said. “I set the end of November as the date, and I don’t see any reason to change it.”
“Then you leave us no choice but to haul out Plan B,” Ryan said. Then, switching into his Kermit voice, he said “Hit him with it, Sam-I-Am. Prison Break, Plan B.”
“We know how much next Sunday’s tournament means to you,” Sammie said. “We are determined to be the picture of focus and responsibility. We’ll practice every spare minute up until the first match.”
“What about the Circle of Truth on Saturday?” I asked her.
“I’m going to stay here and practice with you,” Sammie said. “I already told Ms. Carew I couldn’t go. I have a feeling there will be plenty of other geek fests in my future.”
“So, Sam-I-Am, spit out the plan already,” Ryan said. “Or I will.”
“What we propose, Dad, is this.” Sammie stood up as if she were about to make a speech. “If we win, you spring Charlie. She’s ungrounded, and she can go to the bar mitzvah. If we lose, I’ll cancel my party, and we both stay home. We stand together on this. Two halves of the same circle. Either we both win or we both lose.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying. It was an amazing thing she was offering. Even Dad agreed.
“This is very impressive,” Dad said.
“You’ve raised two very excellent girls,” GoGo said. “There’s a lot of love between them.”
Dad nodded, but he didn’t say yes.
“Can I assume you’ve spoken with your mother about this?” he asked Sammie.
“Yup, she said she would support whatever decision you make.”
I held my breath as he stood up, wishing on everything I could wish on—rainbows, shooting stars, dandelions, fallen eyelashes. You know the list. Dad paced around for a minute, then came over to Sammie and kissed her on the top of her head. And then he did the same to me.
“I am proud that you two stand up for each other,” he said. “Now I want you to prove yourselves.”
“Does this mean it’s a deal?” Sammie said.
“No, it simply means that you have to prove yourself. I will make a fair decision when the time comes.”
“But we want a decision now!” Sammie said.
“That’s not the way justice works, Sammie. I will consider all the facts at the appropriate time, and I can promise you, I will make the most fair decision I can.”
With that, Dad left and went into the kitchen to
take the chicken out of the oven.
“Well,” Sammie said, throwing her arms around me. “That’s better than nothing.” We stood there, hoping and wishing and hugging like bears.
“Hey, what about me?” Ryan said, throwing his long arms around both of us. “How about a little love for the brother?”
Don’t worry. We let him in on the hug. Despite being an idiot and a moron and a goofball, he’s a good guy.
In two minutes, Sammie and I had changed into our tennis clothes and were out on the court. As we bent over to do our stretching exercises, a routine we had done so often that we moved like we were one person instead of two, Sammie whispered to me, “We can do this, Charlie.”
“You’re the best, Sammie,” I whispered back to her.
And I meant it with all my heart. What a sister. What a friend. Forget male bonding. Female bonding rocks!
Chapter 16
“Are you nervous?” Sammie asked as we headed onto the court for our first match the following Sunday.
“I won’t lie,” I said. “I have a few butterflies.”
It had rained the night before, and the tournament was starting a little late because they had to squeegee off the courts to make sure they were dry. Playing on a wet and slippery surface can be dangerous, and the officials had to be careful to protect the players.
Sammie and I didn’t know any of our opponents because they were all from Northern California. That meant we had no idea what to expect, competition-wise. The two girls who were walking onto the court certainly had a size advantage. They looked like they were sixteen, even though I knew they weren’t because you have to show your birth certificate when you sign up for your age category. In any case, their arm muscles were bigger than my leg muscles. That wasn’t exactly a confidence builder.
“We can take them,” Sammie said as she unzipped her racket case.
“No distractions,” I agreed.
“Not even if Spencer shows up with his dad.”
“Not even then.”
We shook hands with the muscle women. They had what I’d call a killer grip.
We were serving first. Specifically, I was serving first. Sammie could tell I was shaky. After all, I had a lot to prove to our dad on this day. So before I served, she came up to me with some final words of advice.
“Here’s what you have to do, Charlie. Visualize what’s motivating you to win. Like a giant trophy. Or the awards ceremony and how great that will feel. Keep that image in your head at all times. It will keep you focused.”
I took her advice, but what I visualized had nothing to do with a trophy or an awards ceremony. The picture I painted in my head was of me dancing with Spencer Ballard at Ben’s party. The music was slow, and he had his hands on my waist. He was holding me and singing softly along with the music. He held me tight and twirled me around the floor.
With that perfect image in my head, I threw the ball up in the air and came down on it hard. Smash. It was an ace. From the stands, I could hear Ryan yelling, “You go, Charles!” You’re not supposed to cheer at tennis matches, but self-control isn’t exactly one of Ryan’s strong points.
I hate to brag, but my next serve was even better. I had a rhythm going, which is crucial in a tennis serve. It’s all about rhythm. I’d toss the ball in the air, visualize dancing with Spencer, and hit a perfect shot across the net. I kept it up through the whole match. Toss, Spencer, perfection. Toss, Spencer, perfection.
The muscle girls were strong but not fast. They couldn’t get a racket on my serve. Sammie played like a dynamo, too. She covered the back court and returned everything they hit at her. She’s not usually fast, but that day, her feet were moving like a tap dancer’s. I wondered what she was visualizing that got her to focus like that. Knowing Sammie, it was probably s’mores.
We won in two sets, 6–2 and 6–2. Our dad was over the moon.
“You girls played like champions,” he said, running onto the court when the match was over. “We should have that ‘prove yourself’ talk before every match.”
In some tournaments, we play three matches a day, but because of the late start and the rain, there was only going to be time for two today, which raised an ugly question.
“So, Dad,” I asked when we went into the clubhouse to drink some vitaminwater. “If we lose the next match, then we’ll be one and one for the day.”
“And your point is, Charlie?”
“My point is, will we have proven ourselves well enough for our deal? Do you consider that a win?”
“Since when is a tie a win?” he said. “Unless they’ve changed the rules when I wasn’t looking, a tie is a tie.”
“That’s not fair,” Sammie said. “If we lose the next match, no parties?”
Dad just shrugged. “I haven’t made any promises,” he said. “I am reserving judgment. However, the best solution to your dilemma is simple, girls. Don’t lose the next match.”
Easier said than done. The team we were playing was from the Rio del Oro Racquet Club in Sacramento, and they trained with one of the top instructors in the Junior Tennis Academy there. Sammie and I had watched them warm up that morning, and they were very slick players. Not huge in size like the previous girls, but smooth and fast and smart. Dad calls it strategic tennis, which means they don’t run around a lot, they just happen to be wherever the ball is.
While we were waiting for our names to be called, Sammie went off to the bathroom for the millionth time that day. She pees like a fish when she gets nervous. Actually, I don’t think fish pee, so I take that back. Maybe I just should have said she pees a lot when she gets nervous. While I was waiting for her to return, Lauren arrived. She was carrying a big shopping bag from Attitudes, my favorite shop at the mall.
“I’m so sorry I missed your first match,” she said. “My mom had a hair appointment and couldn’t drive me until now. Ryan texted me that you guys were dynamite.”
“Just one more match to go,” I said. “Keep your fingers crossed.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got everything crossed!”
I had told Lauren about the conversation with my dad, and when she heard there was a possibility that I could go to Ben’s party, she actually screamed so loud her dad thought she had fallen down the stairs in their house.
Lauren put the Attitudes bag in my lap.
“This is for you,” she said. “I bought it weeks ago. To say thank you for . . . you know . . . for that thing you did.”
I looked in the bag. Inside was an adorable little red dress. It had a silver zipper going all the way up the front and silver studs around the neckline.
“It’ll be perfect for the party,” she giggled. “I’ll help you find some silver shoes. All you have to do is win a little old tennis match.”
It was a great dress. By far, the nicest dress I’d ever had. We don’t have much money these days, and Sammie and I got our clothes budget slashed pretty seriously. But I knew I couldn’t take it. I put the dress back in the bag and handed it to Lauren.
“This is so sweet of you,” I told her. “But I have to give it back.”
“I want you to have it, Charlie. After all you’ve been through for me.”
“Lauren, I can’t take a present for stealing that test. I’m not proud of what I did. And every time I’d wear that dress, I’d remember the one thing I want to forget.”
I could tell she felt bad.
“I hope you understand, Lauren.”
“I do. At least, I think I do.”
I saw Sammie coming back from the bathroom, so I quickly stuffed the bag under Lauren’s chair. I didn’t want to have to get into it with Sammie. Besides, I was prepared for her to be rude to Lauren as she had done so often in the past. She’s never liked it when Lauren shows up for our tournaments. But Sammie Diamond is a girl of many surpr
ises.
“Thanks for coming, Lauren,” she said. She wasn’t exactly gushing with enthusiasm but she wasn’t totally rude, either. Then she flopped down in one of the big leather chairs in the clubhouse and put her earbuds in. Listening to music is one of the ways she gets her game face on.
And speaking of faces, another excellent one showed up a few minutes later. I’ll give you a clue. It has a major dimple on one cheek and is surrounded by blond, curly hair.
“Hi,” Spencer said, walking up to me with a basket of sweet potato fries. “Want one?”
“Thanks, but I couldn’t. There’s a whole swarm of butterflies flapping around in my stomach right now.”
“Big match with a lot riding on it.” He nodded.
“You know about the conversation with my dad?”
“Lauren told me.”
“Listen, Spencer,” I began, trying to find the right words. “I know you must think I’m a real creep.”
“No, I think you got taken advantage of. And I told those guys so, flat out.”
“Thanks for sticking up for me. Anyway, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what I did. It was a mistake.”
“I’ve made mistakes, too.” Then he smiled and that dimple popped out. “But never a doozy like that one. You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
He laughed and I laughed.
“That’s me. Charlie Diamond. Major-league screwup.”
“Yeah, you got one strike against you. But you’re not out until you get three strikes, which means you’ve got two more chances with me.”
His voice sounded like the old Spencer, the one on the patch of grass that day at lunch when he gave me one of his granola bars. Soft and sweet.
“I’ve thought a lot about what happened, Charlie,” he said. “You didn’t take that test because you’re bad. You did it because you have a good heart. It just got in your way, that’s all.”
