Split Decision (2 page)

Ava watched Xander down his blue sports drink in two huge gulps and Kal Tippett wrap his green towel around his head. The boys' postpractice rituals were so familiar to her that she momentarily felt as if she belonged out there with them. She had played football with so many of these boys in the fall. She knew them far better than she knew the girls on the basketball team. She'd missed much of the season with her injury, and she'd just moved to Ashland over the summer, so she hadn't gotten very friendly with many of her teammates.

Ava dribbled the ball with one hand and gave Kal and Xander high fives with the other as they filed off the court.

“Ready to tear it up out there?” Xander asked.

“I was born ready!” Ava called. A group of eighth-grade girls in royal-blue-and-orange Ashland Tiger Cub sweatshirts and basketball shorts entered the gym.

“Watch out for her, Tamara,” Kal said to the tallest of the girls. “We've made Ava football-tough.”

“You didn't make me anything,” Ava retorted with a grin. “I came on the field tougher than all of you.”

“Burn!” called Xander. “She got you, Kal.”

“Got you, too, Browning,” Kal replied, and shoved Xander. Xander shoved him back as the boys jostled their way out of the gym and into the darkening Texas night.

Ava felt the girls eye her warily. She self-consciously tucked a stray piece of her chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. She didn't want them to get the wrong idea, especially on her first day back. She knew she was a good player, but she wasn't conceited. The football team had a bragging banter that she just fell into naturally.

“Your ankle's better now?” asked Tamara Baker.

“Totally. I'm dying to play with all of you,” Ava said. “I can't believe I got hurt as soon as I hit the court in the first game. I was so bummed.”

While Ava sat out, she had watched as Tamara became the team high scorer—she had even scored more points than their captain, Callie Wagner. She stood almost a full head taller than the other girls. Freckles covered her nose and
cheeks, and her long blond braid reached down her back.

Tamara licked her lips and studied Ava. “We haven't done so badly without your ‘Sackett magic,' you know. We've won eight games.”

“I do know! That's great!” Ava gave her a genuine smile. She wasn't exactly sure what Tamara meant by “Sackett magic.” She supposed Tamara was referring to the fact that Ava's dad was the new coach of the high school football team—that was why their family had moved from Massachusetts—and the team had won state this year. Coaching a high school football team to state victory in Texas was like successfully landing the first rocket on Mars—maybe even better. The whole town loved him now.

Except the Kelly/Baker family.

Ava hadn't realized right away that Tamara was a part of that family. And when she had, Tamara's competitiveness made a lot more sense.

Her older cousin, PJ Kelly, was the star high school quarterback. Her younger brother, Andy Baker, was on the middle school football team with Ava. He seemed to have the most issues with a girl on the team, even after Ava had proved herself to all the other guys. Various other Kelly
and Baker cousins were head cheerleaders, marching band captains, and pep squad leaders. And then there was PJ's dad—Mr. Kelly hated Coach Sackett. Ava couldn't figure out why. The team had won and his son was QB1. What more did the man want? But Mr. Kelly's anti-Sackett feelings had infected the entire family. Including Tamara, it now seemed.

“On the court!” boomed Coach Rader. He clapped his hands, and the entire team began to jog and dribble balls around the perimeter of the gym. Ava fell into line.

The majority of the girls were in eighth grade, but there were a few other seventh graders in addition to Ava. She eagerly followed the warm-up drills, most of which she remembered from her two weeks of practice before hurting her ankle. She knew she'd be sore tomorrow, and she was glad. She felt like her old self again—full of energy.

The girls broke into a two-line layup drill. Tamara, in the spot ahead of her, netted the ball. For a moment, Ava worried if her time away from the court would show. But her first shot swooshed easily into the basket. Her second and third found the net too.

Tamara scored. Ava scored. Soon it felt as if they were the only two on the court.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

She's good,
Ava thought.

“Pair up for passing!” called Coach Rader.

“Hey, Tama—” Ava started. But Tamara spun away and paired up with Callie Wagner. Ava paired up with Madison Jackson, one of the other seventh graders.

Run, pass, run, pass.
Ava kept her eyes trained on the ball.
You can't catch what you can't see,
her dad always said.

Suddenly the heavy gym door slammed open, and a tall, muscular boy bounded in. Ava swiveled her head in amazement and missed the catch.

“Sorry!” she called to Madison, and scurried after the ball. She watched the boy for a moment as he took his place next to Coach Rader. He had dark-blond hair and prominent cheekbones. His brown eyes drooped downward, giving him a sleepy look.

“What's
he
doing here?” Ava whispered to Madison.

“PJ Kelly? He's going to start volunteering after football workouts,” Madison said. “He's our new assistant coach.”

“Really?” Ava wasn't sure what to make of this. Why was the star high school quarterback bothering with the middle school girls' basketball team?

“Are you going to pass?” Madison asked. They were the only two not in motion.

“Yeah, sure.” Ava threw the ball.

“Scrimmage!” Coach Rader quickly divided the girls into two groups, with Ava on the team with orange practice jerseys, and Tamara on the royal-blue team.

Ava immediately gained possession of the ball. She ran up court. But Tamara loomed large. She blocked Ava's throw, causing her shot to bounce off the rim.

“Excellent D!” called PJ, clearly pleased with Tamara's defensive moves.

Ava tore after her on the rebound, using her shoulder to knock the ball from Tamara.

“Hey, Ava! Not so rough!” called Coach Rader.

Ava made a mental note to tone it down. This wasn't football. People here didn't wear pads or expect to be tackled.

Ava dribbled around Jane Lopez, and then Tamara was on her again, stealing the ball.
Despite Ava's blocking, Tamara hit the three-pointer from the corner.

“Way to go, Tam!” PJ bellowed.

Madison passed the ball to Ava. Ava passed it to Callie, who sent it back into Ava's hands. Her heart pumped as she dribbled sloppily around Jane once again.

“Control! Control the ball!” PJ's deep voice rose above the pounding on the floorboards.

Does he know I'm Coach Sackett's daughter?
Ava wondered. Probably. The whole town knew she and Alex were Coach Sackett's twin daughters. Suddenly Ava wanted to show him what she could do. She wanted to prove that she did have the “Sackett magic.”

This called for her killer layup. When she played with her friend Jack Valdeavano in the park, he dubbed it her secret weapon.

No more holding back. Time to shine!
Ava thought.

She broke for the basket. Tamara blocked her path. Ava faked right, then dodged left. Tamara stuck with her.

“Here! Over here, Ava!” cried Jane. Jane was wide open.

Ava knew she should pass. Tamara was taller and bigger, and left her no clear path. But she desperately wanted to show PJ her layup.

“Ava!” Jane called again.

Ava hesitated, and in that moment, Tamara swiped the ball from her. Ava watched in disbelief as Tamara executed a perfect layup.
Her
layup.

“You rock, Tam!” cheered PJ. Even Coach Rader clapped.

Ava felt the air seep out of her. On the football field, she was special because she was the only girl—and because she was better than a lot of the boys. She'd thought that on an all-girls' team, she'd automatically be the star. Now she saw that she wasn't.

“I'm out of practice,” she announced suddenly. But no one answered.

The scrimmage started up again, and Ava got back into the game.

Maybe not today, but before the season ends,
she vowed,
I'll show them that I'm as good as Tamara—maybe even better.

“Wait up!” Alex called to Ava the next afternoon. Her sister didn't usually walk so fast. Ever since they were toddlers, Ava had been the one who had to keep up with Alex—their mom said Alex walked with a purpose.

“I'm sweaty,” Ava complained, slowing down on the sidewalk outside their house. “I want to get inside and take a shower.”

“Was practice rough?” Alex asked. They'd both taken the late bus home from school. Ava had stayed after for basketball practice, and Alex had stayed for a student council meeting.

Ava shrugged. “I'm out of shape.”

“You?” Alex laughed. Somehow all the sporty
genes had gone to Ava. Her twin was the most athletic girl she knew.

At that moment, their dad's car pulled into the driveway. Tommy, the twins' older brother, burst out of the passenger side and sprinted for the front door. “First shower!” he called.

“No way!” Ava cried. She dashed up the front walk and struggled with her key in the lock.

“Move it, squirt.” Tommy reached for the handle. “I quarterbacked all practice. I need that shower.”

“Back off!” Ava cried. “Why'd you QB?”

“PJ never showed up.” Tommy tried to push around her.

“Well, he wasn't at our practice,” Ava said as she pushed back.

Alex watched her sweaty brother and sister jostle their way inside to fight for the hot water. Tommy had just come from high school football practice with Coach. He must have been tired because he let Ava shoot past him into the house. Alex was the only one who looked fresh in her black leggings and green-and-violet-striped shirt with her matching green headband.

“Hey there, pumpkin!” Coach Sackett pushed
his baseball cap back and walked toward the door. “How was your day?”

“Good, but I'm starving,” Alex said. “I ate my lunch early so I could help Ms. Palmer organize the student council raffle during my lunch hour.” When Ms. Palmer had asked for her help, Alex had hesitated. Not because she'd miss eating, but because she'd miss the chance to sit with Corey. She wanted to talk more about their date—and exactly when they would go out. It was the only thing she could think about all day. But how could she say no to Ms. Palmer as seventh-grade class president?

“Food. Right.” Coach stepped inside and greeted their dog, Moxy, who ran in excited circles. Moxy was an Australian shepherd, and she almost never ran out of energy.

As she followed her dad into the kitchen, Alex's eyes swept the family room. Random pieces of clothing, magazines, dog toys, and popcorn crumbs littered the sofa. Dirty breakfast dishes lay on the kitchen table. An opened carton of milk had been out on the counter all day. Stray cornflakes crunched under her feet on the tile floor.

“Your mom would not be too happy about
all this.” Coach began to collect the dirty dishes and dump them into the sink, which was already overflowing with pots and pans.

“You think?” Alex teased. Her mom had left yesterday morning to go to an artist retreat in the Texas hills. Ever since her ceramics business had taken off, she'd been dying to go to this special place with a fancy ceramics studio to work on her more complicated designs. The official football season was done, and Coach Sackett had convinced his wife that this week was a great time to go and he had everything at home under control.

“A rough beginning, I know.” He filled the sink with water and soap bubbles. “We just need teamwork. You straighten the family room. I've got the kitchen.”

“What about dinner?” Alex asked, grabbing an apple.

“Go for the first down,
then
you try for the end zone.” Coach Sackett often spoke as if he were in the football locker room.

Alex guessed dinner would take a while. She checked her phone as she cleaned, hoping Corey would text. Should she text him? No, that would be weird, she decided. They'd never
texted before. But maybe now was different.

“Moxy needs to go out!” Ava hurried down the stairs. Her wet hair was uncombed, and she wore a football jersey and flannel pants. Moxy scampered anxiously at her heels.

“Why don't you both take Moxy for a walk?” Mr. Sackett suggested. He came out of the kitchen holding Moxy's leash in one hand and a frozen chicken in the other. “I need to defrost this. The banana muffins I baked this morning won't do double duty for dinner.”

“We better make it a
long
walk, Ave,” Alex joked. “The pizza delivery guy takes a while.” Coach was a great baker, but unfortunately not nearly as good of a cook as their mother.

“Do not doubt your dad. Somehow, someway, I am cooking chicken.” He clipped the leash on Moxy. “Ava, your hair is wet. Put a coat on.”

“But it feels like spring,” Ava protested.

“No buts.” Coach Sackett handed Alex the leash. “A coat, and stay only on our street. Promise?”

“Promise,” the girls agreed.

Alex grabbed her new plaid peacoat from the front closet, while Ava pulled on the navy Windbreaker she'd worn last spring.

“Did this shrink?” Ava demanded. The jacket's sleeves ended just below Ava's elbows, and the fabric strained tightly across her back.

Alex doubled over in laughter. “You look ridiculous, Ave!”

“You grew a lot,” Coach said. “Wear another jacket.”

“I don't have another one.” Ava pulled the navy one off. “Just my winter coat.”

“That's because you always refuse to go shopping. Mom wanted to take you.” Alex
never
refused a mall run.