Double or Nothing

by Belle Payton

  Ava stopped putting in her locker combination and turned to her twin. “Al, it’s really obvious.”

  “It is?” Alex looked relieved.

  “She probably feels she owes you now because you know this secret about her. You know that her family is struggling, and she’s a proud person, and she doesn’t want it to get around. It’s like an unspoken deal: If you can be discreet about all this, she’ll repay you by helping you get elected. Maybe it’s not totally that clear in her mind, but I think she feels she has a debt to repay.”

  Alex still didn’t seem to get it. Ava knew how much her sister relied on her to help interpret subtle stuff like this, so it was good that they were talking again. Ava had been feeling hurt that Alex wasn’t getting behind her about her right to try out for football, but maybe, Ava thought now, it was just one more example of Alex’s self-involvement. It wasn’t that Alex didn’t care, Ava realized. She just got so wrapped up in her own stuff sometimes that she forget to think about other people’s stuff.

  “That’s so weird,” Alex said slowly. “What’s the big deal about getting a reduced-price lunch or shopping in a thrift store? I mean, don’t you remember back in Boston when Mom hadn’t gone back to work yet and Daddy wasn’t making very much money and we couldn’t afford to go on vacation for like, three summers in a row?”

  “I don’t think it’s the same thing,” said Ava. “I think Lindsey has an image to protect. Kylie told me that the Davises have always been one of the better-off families. I think she wants to make it seem like nothing’s changed, even though it has.”

  Alex stared down the hallway as she contemplated this. Then she nudged Ava. “Look at Logan,” she said under her breath, gesturing with her chin. “He’s totally flirting with that group of girls over there.”

  “Whatever,” said Ava, spinning the dial on her locker. “He’s—” She stopped as something fell out and landed on the floor.

  Alex stooped to retrieve it and handed it to Ava. “What’s that?” she asked.

  Ava stared down at it. She felt the heat rise in her face. Without a word, she passed it to Alex.

  It was a piece of construction paper with two cutout pictures pasted to it. They looked like photos from old magazines. The picture on the left showed a football player in a three-point stance, one hand on the ground. Someone had drawn curlicues around the sides of the helmet with a bow on top—to indicate that the player was a girl. The person had also drawn a circle around the football player, with a slash through it—girls shouldn’t play football. The picture on the right showed an old-fashioned cheerleader with her hair in blond pigtails, wearing a wool sweater and a flouncy skirt. She was doing a dumb-looking leap in the air, shaking her pom-poms, and she looked like the least athletic person on earth. The person had drawn an arrow pointing to her. As in—this is what girls should be doing.

  There was no name, no message, nothing else written on the paper.

  Alex looked perplexed. “What does this even mean?”

  “It means,” said Ava, her voice shaking with rage, “that I shouldn’t play football because I’m a girl. I should be a cheerleader instead.”

  “That’s dumb. You don’t even like cheerleading.”

  “It’s a message, Al, that girls should stick to cheerleading. It’s so stupid, too . . . the whole reason they say they don’t want me to play football is so I don’t get hurt, but cheerleaders get hurt just as much if not more than football players do. Plus, there are tons of boys who are cheerleaders. Has this person been living under a rock?”

  “Just ignore it, Ave,” said Alex. “Anyway, I better run. Emily and Lindsey promised to listen to me practice my speech.”

  Ava watched her sister walk away. She couldn’t believe how much Alex had downplayed this. It was a big deal. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this dumb sign and shove it into her locker while she was at lunch. She looked around the hallway at all the chattering, laughing kids at their lockers. One of them had sent her this message. It could have been anyone.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  On Friday, Alex woke up with her stomach turning in somersaults. Today was speech day. It wasn’t like she wasn’t prepared. She knew her speech by heart. She’d practiced it over and over and over until close to midnight, and she could recite it in her sleep. She probably had said it in her sleep, come to think of it. Still, this was a big moment in her campaign. A speech in front of the whole seventh grade. They were rearranging the lunch blocks, extending them by fifteen minutes for each grade, to give the candidates for president time to make a three-minute speech, followed by a question-and-answer session. Due to time constraints, the other candidates—for vice president, secretary, and treasurer—would be distributing their one-paragraph speeches in written form to everyone in homeroom.

  “Well, now, don’t you look presidential!” said Tommy as Alex walked into the kitchen half an hour later. She hadn’t found a snappy red blazer, but she was wearing the next best thing—a crisp white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and an A-line red skirt.

  “Pretty, hon,” said Mrs. Sackett, plunking down a plate of scrambled eggs with toast for Alex.

  Coach hurried in, fully dressed and tucking in his shirt. “Come on, Tom. We’ve got to get going. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

  “Good luck in your game, you two,” said Alex as the two of them headed for the door. “Wish we could be there!”

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” said Coach, giving her a quick kiss on the top of the head as he grabbed his coffee cup off the counter. “Good luck with the speech today.” He and Tommy hurried out the door.

  “Wait, why can’t we go to the game again, Mom?” asked Ava, who had just come clattering down the stairs in—Alex noted with mild disapproval—a football jersey.

  “Because it’s almost two hours away,” said her mother patiently. “And it would mean pulling you out of school early, which I do not think is a good thing to do for a football game. You can watch it on the computer—it’s streaming through the school website. I’ll have it all set up for you.”

  Alex pushed away the eggs she’d barely touched and stood up. “I’m too nervous to eat,” she said to her mom. “I’m going upstairs to practice my speech a couple more times. Call me when you’re ready to go, Ave.”

  After lunch, Alex sat up on the platform at one end of the cafeteria, looking out at a sea of faces. It was the old stage, one that was rarely used anymore since the school had added on the auditorium, but today it would come in handy as everyone was already sitting, ready for the show.

  “We’ll go in alphabetical order,” Ms. Farmen had told the three candidates. “Remember—three minutes and then I ring my bell. We have to keep this moving so we don’t cut into the next class period.”

  So Alex was second. She sat in her seat between Logan and Ella, mentally preparing the speech she’d practiced. Neither Logan nor Ella said anything to her, or to each other. They must be as nervous as I am, Alex thought. She looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye. Actually, he didn’t look a bit nervous. He was making faces at a group of guys sitting at a long table toward the front. The guys were all cracking up, shoving one another sideways, and making faces back at him. It’s so not fair, Alex thought. She wanted this so badly, and had for so long, and here was Logan, messing around with his friends—he didn’t seem to care one bit about being president. Yet he was probably the one who would get elected, just because he was popular.

  As Ms. Farmen got kids’ attention, tapping the mike and calling for quiet, Alex scanned the crowd. There was Ava, sitting next to Kylie at a table toward the back. Ava gave her a little thumbs-up. Alex allowed the corners of her mouth to twitch upward.

  There was thunderous applause and whistles as Ms. Farmen introduced Logan.

  He unfolded his long legs, stood up, and ambled to the podium. Alex was grudgingly impressed that he had no notes to refer to. Maybe he had prepared as carefully as she but was better at pretending to
be nonchalant.

  “Thanks, Ms. Farmen,” he said, speaking in that smooth-as-honey voice. “My name is Logan Medina, and I think I would be a great class president. Here’s why.”

  He had a little grin on his face, but Alex could tell he was making this up as he went along. Surely it wasn’t possible that he hadn’t prepared at all!

  “Because,” Logan continued, “Ashland Middle is an awesome school and it needs an awesome president!”

  There was an eruption of cheers and “Dude!” calls from the table of guys.

  “Ashland rules!” he yelled, pumping his fist in the air. The place went wild. Now Logan seemed to be considering what to say next. He glanced over at Alex and Ella.

  “My opponents are great and all, but do we really need a president who spends her life in the science lab? What if she accidentally blew up the school or whatever?”

  This drew huge amounts of laughter and cheers. Alex felt Ella stiffen beside her.

  “Or a president who’s from a family of troublemakers and who thinks girls should play guys’ sports? Our football team is already going to be awesome. Right, dudes? Guys rule!”

  Now there was a mixed response from the audience. Logan’s table of course went wild with whoops and cheers, as did a few other groups of guys around the cafeteria. But Alex also heard a distinct booing from all around the room. He had some nerve, bringing her sister into the campaign! What right did he have to insult Ava? And yet—her anger now flared up at Ava. Why couldn’t she just stick to normal sports for girls? Was she going to be the reason Alex lost this election?

  Ms. Farmen stepped to the podium again and was ringing her bell. Alex wasn’t sure whether it was because Logan’s allotted three minutes were up (mostly used up by the noise from his friends) or to restore order. The bell worked, and the crowd quieted back down quickly. Alex felt Logan drop casually into the seat beside her. She heard Ms. Farmen introduce her, and stood up on shaky legs. She tottered over to the podium.

  She was still seething, mostly at Logan, but a tiny bit at Ava for causing this stress. She had her speech ready. It was all about how organized she was, how prepared she would be to listen to her constituents and take up their grievances to the school administration, how her worthy opponents were great representatives of the athletic kids and the smart kids (respectively), but that she, Alex, was “an everyman,” someone who didn’t fit neatly into any one category and how hers would be a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.” That was to be her big finale. There was no time to change it.

  But as she stared at the sea of people, including her sister’s expectant face, she thought about chucking out what she’d prepared. I will stand up for my sister. For girls in general. So what if it makes me lose the election? It’s the noble thing to do.

  She cleared her throat.

  But then again, she thought, why should I let Ava playing football wreck my chances to be president? It’s not like she’s been all that considerate about my feelings!

  Precious seconds had already ticked by. She had to act fast. She made the decision—

  —and delivered the speech she’d prepared and memorized.

  It was perfectly timed out, and she came in at just under three minutes. The applause was warm but not full of whoops and enthusiasm the way Logan’s had been.

  She sat down, still trembling slightly. She barely heard Ella’s speech, but from what she could tell it was a pretty good one; it was well written, and Ella sounded polished as she delivered it. It got about the same level of applause as her speech had. Logan was going to win for sure.

  Ms. Farmen invited kids to ask questions of the candidates. “We have just about three minutes remaining before the bell,” she said, “so please keep your questions brief.”

  A hand shot up near the right side of the room. Ms. Farmen called on the girl, whom Alex didn’t know.

  “I have a question for Alex,” she said.

  Alex froze and felt her mouth go dry. She was totally confident fielding questions about her plans as president, but she had a sneaking feeling this question wasn’t going to be about that.

  “Do you think your sister should be allowed to play for the football team?”

  She was right.

  There was an immediate murmuring throughout the cafeteria as Alex got to her feet and accepted the microphone from Ms. Farmen.

  “Ah,” she said. Her mind was whirring. What should she say? Of course she believed Ava should be allowed to play football, but she didn’t want to lose voters by saying so. “Um, I believe that sports should be unrelated to politics . . . and as a candidate I think it’s important to remain impartial on this issue . . . while I believe girls can do anything boys can do, I, um, think it’s also true that I don’t want my sister to get hurt, so, ah . . .” She continued to blather on and on, without really saying anything specific. She was dimly aware that the bell rang, and then everyone was bustling around getting ready to go.

  She handed the mike back to Ms. Farmen. Had she really spent the whole Q and A on that one question? How would Ava react to her lame, noncommittal answer? She looked at the place where Ava had been sitting.

  The seat was empty.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  Ava had left the cafeteria before Alex had even finished her long, convoluted answer to the basic question. She felt hot, angry tears in her eyes, but she wiped them away fiercely. Her sister had let her down. Logan had practically invited Alex to challenge him on the issue, and Alex had wimped out. The least she could have done was say something intelligible in answer to the girl’s question, but she already sounded like a politician.

  After school she headed for the track over at the high school. With the football and the cross-country teams all away, she had it to herself. She ran sprints, did some agility drills, and practiced some kicking. Then she took the late bus home. She planned to eat an early dinner so she could watch Coach and Tommy’s game on the webcast.

  Alex was already home and was just pulling a veggie frozen pizza out of the oven when Ava walked in.

  “Hi, Ave!” she said cheerfully.

  “Hi,” muttered Ava.

  “I already walked Moxy,” said Alex. “Because I figured you’d be getting home late.”

  “Thanks,” said Ava, and moved past her sister to head up to her room.

  They didn’t say much to each other all night. Ava could hear Alex clanking plates and silverware, but she decided to stay in her room until the start of the game and eat her dinner at halftime.

  At kickoff time, the two sisters gathered in Coach’s office and sat in side-by-side chairs at his desk, watching the webcast on the big desktop computer. Moxy sprawled out on the couch next to them. Normally Moxy was not allowed on the couch, but she understood that when Mrs. Sackett wasn’t home, the girls would have no objection.

  It was a lopsided game—the Tigers trounced the Spartans. At halftime, the score was 28–7, and Ava went into the kitchen to eat her pizza. Alex made popcorn. Neither girl brought up Alex’s speech.

  By the start of the fourth quarter, the Tigers were up 38–10. Alex sat flipping through a magazine, only half watching. Ava remained engrossed in the game. Suddenly she breathed in sharply.

  “What?” asked Alex quickly, looking at the screen.

  “Tommy’s in,” said Ava.

  Their brother, the second-string quarterback now that his teammate Dion had a stress fracture, was getting a chance to play. Coach probably didn’t want to risk PJ getting hurt, and he wanted to give Tommy game experience.

  A minute later Ava groaned.

  “What? What happened? I didn’t see what happened!” said Alex.

  “He just fumbled the snap,” said Ava.

  “Aw, Tommy,” said Alex softly.

  The Tigers ended up winning 38–17. In addition to the fumble, Tommy completed just one of four passes, and that was just for three yards. When it was over, Ava clicked off the computer and headed into the kit
chen to clean up. With a quiet “I’m going to bed,” she went upstairs.

  Much later she heard Moxy bark twice, her happy bark, and then she heard Tommy and her parents come in. Her clock told her it was fifteen minutes past midnight. There was low murmuring, the clanking of plates and glasses. Of course Tommy would be eating another big meal before bed. Ava turned toward the wall and fell asleep.

  The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully. The mood in the Sackett house was somber. Coach watched film in his office. Mrs. Sackett was still working on finishing a big pottery order for a wedding, so she spent most of the weekend at her studio. Tommy kept to his room, banging away on his keyboard. Alex spent a lot of time in her room, working on her final speech, to be delivered at an all-school assembly on Wednesday. The elections would be held on Thursday.

  Ava worked on drills at the park near their house and tried to study the playbook, but as she’d predicted, she found it very hard to concentrate on the diagrams. It was so much easier to go through the motions with the team. Tommy and her friend Jack tried to help her a little, but Jack was a soccer and basketball player and didn’t really know the football plays. And part of her wondered what the point was. What if the school board decided at the meeting on Wednesday night that she couldn’t play? What difference would it make then if she knew the plays or not?

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Alex woke up Monday morning feeling unprepared for classes, and she hated that feeling. She knew she’d spent way too much time working on her speech over the weekend. She’d neglected her SAT vocabulary cards yet again—it had been over a week since she’d had time to learn even one new word. But Wednesday was so important. She had to nail this next speech.