by Lexi Ryals
“I’m an athlete. I don’t get nervous,” I say, trying to sound confident instead of horribly embarrassed.
“I know you, Maddie,” he says gently, reaching out and tugging on my bracelet. “Your sister has the same face, but I know you.”
I smile at him calmly, but inside I am squealing and doing my happy dance.
“So, Rooney, want to go to that dance?” Diggie asks.
“Yes!” I say. Then I playfully punch his bicep. “Just so we’re clear, though, I won this, right?”
He laughs. “No, I win because I get to take you to the dance.”
“Aww.” I grin at him. “That’s what losers say!” I shove my basketball at him. “Bam! What?!”
He laughs. “You know, in a weird way, we have Liv to thank for this.”
“Wow, you’re right.” I gasp. “Liv! I have to stop her.” I can’t believe I said such mean things to her. She really has been trying to help. There is no way I can let her leave. I run toward the house but stop before I get to the door. I turn back to Diggie and yell, “Oh, by the way, I’m not wearing a dress to that dance.”
Diggie smiles and shoots me a thumbs-up. Then he yells in his sports announcer voice, “And there she goes, folks. She’s going…going…gone!”
I’m obviously not going to stay where I’m not wanted, and if Maddie doesn’t want me here, then this just isn’t home anymore.
I drag one of my suitcases downstairs, with Mom right behind me. I don’t really have a plan for how to get back to Hollywood, but I can make that up on the fly, right? I’m an actress, after all. Improv is second nature to me.
Dad stops me in the living room. “Liv, if you’re leaving, you should probably take this with you.” He hands me a pink sparkly picture frame. Inside is the art project Maddie and I made in second grade. I haven’t seen it in years. It’s a drawing of the two of us together, and above it, we wrote: Sisters by chance, friends by choice.
Mom puts her arm around me and looks over my shoulder. “Wow, remember when you two made that? ‘Sisters by chance, friends by choice.’”
“So corny…” I let out a little laugh, but I can’t help reaching out and touching Maddie’s handwriting. I just want us to be friends again.
“Liv, twins are special,” Dad says. “Since the day you were born, it’s never just been Liv, and it’s never just been Maddie. It’s always been Liv and Maddie.”
“She’ll always be your sister,” Mom adds, “but it’s tough to be best friends when you’re two thousand miles away.”
It’s all too much. I start crying. “What, you think I’m going to just fall to pieces over a second-grade art project?” I sniffle.
Maddie. What have I done? I clutch the frame and head out to find her. When I reach the backyard, Diggie is there playing basketball. But my sister is nowhere to be found.
“Where’s Maddie?” I ask. Diggie says she’s inside, so I turn and run right back into the house
I race into the kitchen and through it to the living room. I have to find Liv and stop her from leaving. What if I’m too late? What if I can never get her to move back home?
“Where’s Liv?” I ask when I find Mom and Dad standing in the living room.
“She just left,” Mom says. I race toward the front door, but Mom stops me. “No, she went out back to find you.”
I glare at her. “You could have been a little clearer when I asked the first time!” I turn and head toward the back.
I push through the kitchen door and run smack into Liv. Ouch! We both stagger backward, rubbing our heads.
“Liv!”
“Maddie!”
“I have to talk to you!” I say.
“I have to talk to you!” she says, panting. “You first. I have to catch my breath. I don’t usually do my own stunts.”
“Liv, I’m so sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “What I said was mean. I’m totally psyched you came back from Hollywood. I’m sorry.”
“No, you were right,” Liv says. “I shouldn’t have tried to fix your life. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry! Diggie asked me to the dance!” I exclaim.
Liv squeals and I join in. “Get this: he only said no to me because he knew it was you.”
Liv scoffs. “Knew it was me? No way. I do you better than you do you. Bam! Who?!” She pauses. “Wait, is it ‘Bam! What?!’?”
I laugh. This is exactly what I was excited about when I found out she was moving home—I finally have my best friend back.
Liv hands me the frame she’s been holding. I can’t believe it—it’s our second-grade art project.
I gasp. “No way! I remember when we made this. ‘Sisters by chance. Friends by choice.’ So corny.” I reach out, take her hand, and give it a squeeze.
“So corny,” Liv says, and squeezes my hand back.
“Liv, please don’t leave,” I beg, trying not to cry.
“You couldn’t drag me away,” Liv says. I can see tears in her eyes, too.
I pull her into a hug. Over her shoulder I can see Mom and Dad watching us in the doorway.
“Oh, I’m going to…” Mom whispers, her eyes shimmering.
“Hold it together,” Dad says as tears roll down his cheeks. “We don’t want to spoil this perfect moment.”
I start to tell them to quit being so embarrassing, but just then the fridge crashes down the back stairs, followed by our popcorn machine. Popcorn and sodas fly everywhere. Liv and I shriek and duck under the table, and Dad blocks Mom from the worst of it. When the popcorn settles, we see Joey and Parker standing wide-eyed at the top of the stairs.
“To Vegas!” Parker yells.
“Right there with you, buddy,” Joey says, nodding. Then they both turn and run.
Ugh. My brothers truly are the worst. And kind of hysterical.
“Parker! If you’re not going to close the door, at least don’t make eye contact!” I yell as I walk into the living room, having passed the hall bath. Parker is in there, on the toilet with the door open. Again. Little brothers are seriously so gross.
“It’s only weird if you make it weird!” Parker yells back.
I roll my eyes at Mom and Dad, who are on the couch watching TV.
The doorbell rings and I rush to answer it. It’s Diggie, all dressed up in a suit and tie and ready to take Maddie to the dance. Yay! I am so excited for her!
“Your starting lineup for tonight’s dance: Diggie and Maddie!” Diggie announces in his booming voice.
“Yeah, that’s cute,” Dad says sternly, trying to look intimidating. “Have her home by eleven.”
“Okay,” Diggie says quickly. I guess Dad can be pretty scary.
“Maddie, Diggie’s here!” I call up the stairs. “Just wait until you see her!” I tell him. I’ve been helping Maddie get ready for hours, and she looks gorgeous. Diggie won’t know what hit him!
Maddie slowly starts down the stairs. She is wearing a light blue dress with a full tulle skirt and high heels, although she is a little wobbly with each step. Her hair and makeup are absolutely flawless. Even her glasses look extra fancy.
“Whoa. I think I swallowed my gum,” Diggie says, looking stunned.
“You look like an angel, honey,” Mom says, snapping pictures.
“You’re gorgeous, Mads,” Dad says proudly.
“Am I a miracle worker?” I ask. “A little bit.”
“It’s picture time. Come on down,” Mom says.
Maddie sighs and grimaces. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Diggie, I just can’t.” She turns and wobbles back up the stairs.
“What a diva,” I say, laughing.
Dad takes Diggie by the elbow and steers him toward the door. “You heard the girl. She changed her mind. Beat it.”
But before Diggie can leave, Maddie bounds back down the stairs wearing her dress with basketball shoes. “Much better,” she says happily.
Diggie smiles at her.
“Maddie, it’s a dance,” I protest. “You can’t wear—”
“Hey,” Maddie says, cutting me off. “I put on a dress. Don’t push it.”
I laugh. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not going to push it.
I’m just glad to have my sister back exactly as she is.
“Good morning, fellow Rooneys!” I sing out, walking ever so dramatically down the kitchen stairs for breakfast. Maddie, Joey, and Mom are eating cereal at the kitchen table. Dad and Parker are packing a lunch. “Today is the first day of the rest of your lives...with me!” I say, clasping my hands together and grinning.
Maddie laughs and rolls her eyes.
“Hey, Hollywood,” Joey says. “Tomorrow, less time in the shower. You used up all the hot water. Makes it really hard to shave.”
Maddie and I give him skeptical looks.
Joey says, “That’s right, guys. I shave.” He stretches and puts his hands behind his head, trying to look cool. “Spread the word.”
Parker shrugs. “Didn’t bother me. I took a shower with the hose out front.”
“Weren’t you worried about someone seeing you?” I ask, appalled.
“Oh, come on, like the neighbors haven’t seen that already!” Parker says. He and Dad join Maddie, Joey, and Mom at the kitchen table.
I take a bowl of cereal from the counter and look for a seat at the kitchen table, but all the chairs are taken and I do not eat standing up like a farm animal. “Um, what happened to my chair?” I ask with my signature sweet smile.
“Ooh,” says Maddie. “Um, Parker broke it over Joey’s back when they were wrestling.”
“Correction,” Joey says. “He was wrestling. I was eating soup.”
Mom glares at Parker. “You know, this is ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to stand to eat your breakfast. Joey, get her a seat.”
Joey hops up and slides the kitchen trash can to the table. He taps it and looks up at me. “Welcome home, Hollywood.”
I sit down ever so sadly.
“You know,” I say with my nose scrunched up, “when I asked you guys to treat me like a regular person, I didn’t really mean it.”
I cross the finish line and Dad clicks his stopwatch to mark my time. We finish every basketball practice with a timed mile. I’m the first one back, as usual.
“A twelve-minute mile, Maddie?” Dad says with disapproval. “What happened?”
“I ran two!” I say, feeling my pulse.
Dad stares at me, impressed.
The rest of the team jogs in.
My teammate Cassie runs over to me.
“Nice, Cassie! Personal best,” Dad tells her.
Cassie pants and nods. “Last time I walked, because I didn’t want to get a blister,” she says. “But I ran this time, ’cause I was chased by a squirrel.”
Stains appears. She is soaked and her gym clothes are smeared with dirt.
“Look at you, Stains,” Dad says. “Working up a sweat.”
“A school bus ran through a puddle and splashed me,” Stains says, pulling at her wet tank top. Not that it’s a big deal, but Stains is always dirty somehow.
Dad blows his whistle and gestures to the rest of the team in the distance. “Team meeting, everybody! Grab some water. Hustle it up, Willow! Hustle up!”
Willow and the rest of the girls stagger over the finish line and join us. Willow immediately kicks off her sneakers, pulls the lid off the watercooler, and dunks her feet directly into the cold water. “Ahh, heaven,” Willow moans with a smile. “My dogs have been barking since Sycamore Street.” She looks up at the rest of the team, who look very thirsty and a little bit annoyed. “Oh, wait, were you guys using this?” Willow is the strongest girl on our team, and she is always complaining about her sore feet—always.
“Okay,” Dad says to us. “Don’t forget, team retreat at my house this weekend. Also, your votes are in and the Ridgewood High Fighting Porcupines have themselves a new team captain!”
We all cheer and clap.
“She’s the first sophomore ever chosen,” Dad says. “Maddie Rooney!”
The girls all mob me to give me hugs, patting my back.
I can’t believe it! Well, yes I can. Basketball is my life. And being named captain of the team is huge for me. And I may be playing it cool in front of the girls on the team, but I also may go home later and squeal in my closet. Eee!
“Way to go, Maddie,” Willow says, walking toward me. “Chest bump.”
I step back. “Not the...”
Willow rushes at me, bumping her chest into mine and knocking me to the ground.
“...chest bump,” I gasp. Willow is a lot stronger than me. Her chest bumps are epic—and not in the good way. Ouch.
“You’re going to be a great captain, Maddie,” Cassie says cheerfully, helping me up, “unless you’re really bad and the whole team turns against you.”
I guess I haven’t thought of that. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen! After all, I’m proud to be captain of such a great team, despite that Liv thinks the girls on the team are all kind of like the “before” in a makeover show, which she says means they have potential. I think that’s just Liv’s way of giving a compliment.
We all head toward the locker room (we make Willow carry the foot water) and pass the statue of our school mascot, Paulie the Fighting Porcupine. Principal Fickman is in the middle of pulling a party hat and a feather boa off the statue.
“Uh, Principal Fickman, what are you doing?” I ask him. “Is it Paulie the Porcupine’s birthday?”
Principal Fickman snorts. “It most certainly is not. Someone out there thinks it’s a big hee-haw to keep dressing up the mascot while I’m neither hee-ing nor haw-ing!”
“You gotta admit, it is kind of funny.” Dad laughs until he sees that Principal Fickman is glaring at him; then he adopts a stern expression. “It’s a travesty, sir.”
“We’ve had to make some budget cuts, and girls’ basketball got hit hard,” says the principal. “The good news is I got you the new uniforms you requested.” The principal picks up a bag that was leaning against the base of the statue, and dumps grayish uniforms out of it onto the hall floor.
We all squeal happily and then reach down and pick up uniform pieces.
“The bad news is,” says the principal, “they’re the boys’ old uniforms, sweaty and unlaundered.”
We immediately drop the uniforms. So gross.
“No, we need new uniforms!” I protest. “We’re going to a tournament in Chicago.”
“Yeah,” says Dad. “The Walter Worciechowski Invitational! It took me three days to learn how to say it.”
Principal Fickman shrugs with a nasty sneer on his face. “What can I say? Money’s tight. I’m only funding things the student body cares about.”
“People care about girls’ basketball!” I tell him.
He bursts into an evil little laugh. “Sure they do,” he says meanly. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Principal Fickman, we’re not going to let you treat us this way. Right, team?” I say confidently, waiting for my team to back me up. He’ll have to listen if we all speak up loudly enough. But no one makes a sound. I turn around and see all the girls looking uncomfortably to the sides and down at their shoes. I sigh.
“Wow, it’s as quiet in here as the gym during a girls’ basketball game,” Principal Fickman says. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I promised Mother I’d be home in time for Wheel of Fortune.”
I smile sweetly. There is more than one way to win a fight. “Principal Fickman, before you go, would you like a nice, cold glass of water?” I fill up a cup with the dirty foot water from the cooler and hand it to him.
He gulps it down. “Refreshing!” he says.
Once the principal walks off and is out of sight, I turn to Willow and say, “Please tell me you still have athlete’s foot.”
“Raging,” she assures me.
“Good girl,” I say, and give her a high five.
But even though we won the battle, we haven’t won the war.
And I
’m kind of upset that my team didn’t back me up.
What’s that about?
I think about Cassie’s words, about the team turning on me.
We’d better find our team spirit—and fast. But how?
I’m seated at the kitchen table after school working on algebra when Parker sneaks up behind me.
“Hey, Joey!” Parker says.
He holds up a plastic cage with a large, furry tarantula inside it.
I let out a scream. “What are you doing with a tarantula?” I ask him.
Parker laughs. “Her name is Sylvia, and she’s the class pet. I’m taking care of them for the weekend.”
“Them? Parker, I only see the one,” I say.
“Yeah...” Parker says. “I already lost the other five when I let them out of the cage.”
“What? Why would you let them out of their cage?” I say.
I look around frantically. My skin prickles as if there were spiders on me.
“Duh,” Parker says matter-of-factly. “To train them for the all-tarantula circus!”
I give Parker a stern look. “Parker, you are so irresponsible!” Then I stick my lower lip out in a pout. “How could you not invite me to your tarantula circus?”
Just then a tarantula appears on the kitchen table.
I scream again.
Parker calmly places a cereal bowl over it, delighted. “Caught one! It’s either Julie, the trapeze artist, or Bernardo, the sword swallower. Four more to go.”
I shudder. Then I hear a horn honk from the driveway. I look out the window and say, “Parker, that’s Mom! You cannot tell her anything about this, okay? If she finds out that there’s a bunch of spiders crawling around, she will freak out. Okay, here she comes. Act natural.” I place my hand under my chin.
Parker hides his tarantula cage on a chair and leans on me.
