Even the Score (2 page)

Alex Sackett tapped her purple pen against her new notebook. She glanced at the red, blue, green, and orange pens lined up neatly by her arm. Her plan had been to take meeting notes in different colors. Blue for calendar dates. Green for fund-raising events. Red for money issues. Orange for seventh-grade notes.

She loved color-coding. She arranged her underwear drawer by color. It drove Ava crazy. Ava's drawers had no order. Her underwear was tossed in with her sweatshirts and outgrown bathing suits.

But what should she use the purple pen for? Alex hadn't decided yet.

“Alex, will you take the minutes today?” Ms. Palmer, the student council adviser, asked.

“Sure thing!” Alex smiled. Purple would be
for writing down the minutes! She turned to a blank page. She loved blank notebook paper. The possibilities to fill it were endless.

She glanced to her left at sixth-grade president Chloe Klein. Chloe had turned over a math worksheet to scribble notes with a pencil that was missing an eraser. Next to Chloe, eighth-grade president Johnny Morton leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. He hadn't bothered to bring paper or a pen to the after-school meeting. A baseball player who'd broken the school's pitching record, Johnny had an easy smile for everyone. All the kids liked him, and he'd definitely won off his popularity.

No wonder Ms. Palmer chose me to take notes,
Alex thought. Of the three class presidents, she was definitely the most organized. In addition to the presidents, the vice presidents, secretaries, and treasurers from each of the three grades filled the classroom Thursday afternoon for the student council meeting.

Alex took a lot of notes and made a lot of lists. Her family teased her for it, but she tried to explain to them that her lists were calming, that they gave life order. She listed vocabulary words to learn, hobbies she wanted to try, exotic
places to visit, books she'd read, and movies she'd watched. When she was little, she kept a running list of her favorite animals and quizzed her family weekly on it. Ava was the only one who knew when giraffe had switched places with dolphin.

“First item,” Ms. Palmer announced. “We will be hosting the Homecoming dance in the gym next month, and we need to start planning. Who has ideas for a theme?”

Chloe raised her hand.

“No hand raising here,” Ms. Palmer said with a smile. “This isn't a classroom.” She glanced at the desks and whiteboard and chuckled. “Okay, it
is
a classroom, but we're not in class. We're having a discussion. Everyone can just talk, as long as we all listen, too.”

“How about Texas Sky?” Chloe suggested. “We could decorate with glow-in-the-dark stars.”

“I like Hollywood Nights,” the eighth-grade vice president said.

“We could have a red carpet leading into the gym,” added the sixth-grade treasurer. “And wear movie-star dresses.”

Everyone had an idea. Alex thought the girls' ideas were much better than the boys'. One
sixth-grade boy wanted the theme to be Extreme Sports.

“How would you decorate the gym?” she asked him.

“Zip lines,” he answered. “And skateboard ramps.”

“But the girls want to wear pretty dresses,” Alex protested.

Idea after idea was presented, and Alex had something to say about each one. Her mother liked to say she skipped baby talk and started speaking in full sentences, every one stating her opinion. Not all of her comments were negative. She liked a lot of the ideas, especially the Hollywood one. She felt good about speaking her mind.
This is why the seventh graders elected me,
she thought.

“Okay, let's revisit the list at our next meeting,” Ms. Palmer announced. “Now on to planning our annual car wash.”

As Ms. Palmer reviewed the details of the big car wash to raise money for student activities and equipment, Alex wondered about the dance. Back in their old town in Massachusetts, the middle school didn't have dances. She'd never been to one. What would she wear? She
imagined herself in a shiny, hot-pink dress she'd seen in a fashion magazine. Her long, curly brown hair would fall to her shoulders in soft waves. She would look so good in that dress walking into the dance with . . . with who?

Her heartbeat quickened. Who would she go to the dance with?

She glanced around the table. No one on the student council interested her. She couldn't stop picturing Corey O'Sullivan in a dark suit and a pink tie to match her dress. He'd look so good.
They'd
look so good.

She shook her head. There was no way.

Alex was pretty sure Corey was going out with Lindsey Davis again, and she and Lindsey were on their way to becoming close friends. Weeks ago she'd chosen Lindsey's friendship over Corey, even though it seemed like Corey liked her. But now he was back with Lindsey. So who could be a potential date?

“Alex,” Ms. Palmer called. “Can you read back the budget figures?”

Alex glanced at her notes and read back the numbers. Her purple pen hadn't stopped writing, even while she daydreamed. Ava could only focus on one thing at a time. Not Alex. She did
her homework, watched TV, and texted all at the same time and never missed a word.

Ms. Palmer reported that last year the student council had raised two thousand dollars through car washes, bake sales, and T-shirt sales. “This money is buying a new electronic scoreboard for the football team,” she announced proudly. “Once I send in the payment, the scoreboard will be delivered and installed next week.”

Everyone clapped.

“We should turn our attention to what to buy with the money we'll raise this year,” she said. “Ideas?”

“New uniforms for the baseball team,” Johnny said.

“The school banner at the football field should be replaced,” the Extreme Sports boy added.

“We could pay a celebrity to be at the pep rally for the first game,” put in Carly Hermano, who was a cheerleader. Alex had met Carly when she'd foolishly tried out for cheerleading. Alex couldn't get any of the steps right, and she was deathly afraid to try a backflip. Not good for cheerleading! Carly did an amazing backflip and was also the seventh-grade vice president.

“There are other things at this school besides sports,” Alex interjected.

All eyes turned to her.

Suddenly she wished she hadn't spoken. She didn't want anyone to think they'd made a mistake electing the new kid as president. But she took a deep breath and continued. “We could plant flowers outside the building. We could buy supplies for the art room or new instruments for the band. We could have the literary magazine printed in color.”

“We have a literary magazine?” Johnny asked skeptically.

“Well, if we don't, we should start one,” she said. “The point is, we should think beyond the sports field. There's more to Ashland Middle School than football.”

“You're here!” Ava was startled to see her dad the next morning standing by the kitchen counter in his rumpled orange coach's shirt.

“I live here,” Mike Sackett said, plunging a tea bag into a mug of hot water. “Remember?”

“Kind of.” Ava grinned. “But it's Friday morning. You're always at school super early on game day. Don't you have to nail down some last-minute strategies?”

“I'm trying something new.” He took a deep breath. “Relaxation. Meditation. All that Zen stuff your mom talks about.”

Ava raised her eyebrows skeptically. “How's that working for you?”

Coach took a sip of the tea and made a sour face. “Totally stressing me out.” He tossed the remaining tea into the sink. “I need coffee.”

Ava grabbed a blueberry muffin and sat at the table next to Alex, who had already finished her yogurt and was now rapidly flipping through what looked to be vocabulary flash cards. Ava couldn't imagine a worse way to start the day.

“Morning, Mom,” Ava called.

Mrs. Sackett raised her arm in greeting from the small kitchen desk, then continued to type furiously on her laptop. Ava wondered if her mom had even gone to bed. When she'd said good night, Mrs. Sackett had been sitting at the computer and wearing the same gray sweatpants. Her long, wavy hair was still gathered in a loose ponytail. Moxy, the family's Australian shepherd, lay under the desk and across the toes of her fuzzy green socks.

“Morning.” Tommy wandered in with his hair wet from the shower. He poured a large glass of orange juice, which he chugged in a single gulp. He grunted before pouring a second glass of juice. Tommy wasn't a morning person.

“Let's talk game-day football, Coach,” Ava suggested. Mike Sackett's ruddy face brightened.
Nothing made him come alive more than football. “What's the deal with the Ravens?”

“Michael, I thought you were going to take a break from football this morning—” her mother started.

“The Ravens are going to be a challenge.” The Ashland High Tigers were on the road tonight against the Ridgefield Ravens. Her dad's green eyes sparkled. Mrs. Sackett sighed.

“Strong offense or defense?” Ava asked.

“Strong checkbook,” he answered.

“What does that mean?” Alex looked up from her cards.

“Big money,” Tommy explained. He slathered toast with what seemed like half a jar of peanut butter. As sophomore third-string quarterback, Tommy was trying to bulk up, but the massive quantities of food he shoveled in never seemed to stick.

“The Ravens are the wealthiest school we play,” their dad explained. “These kids have it all. Fancy uniforms, amazing weight room, high-class trainers, private lessons.”

“What about talent? You can't buy talent,” Alex observed.

“Or determination,” Ava added.

“True,” he agreed. “Our team has heart and focus—”

“And mad skills,” Tommy finished.

“Indeed.” Coach sipped his coffee. “A new weight room would be nice, though.”

“The middle school is getting a high-tech scoreboard,” Alex said proudly. “Isn't that great of the student council? The scoreboard is digital and does all these cool things.”

“What was wrong with the old one?” Mrs. Sackett asked.

“It was old and, uh . . .” Alex hesitated.

“It just told the score.” Ava jumped in to help Alex. “The new one will display everything—the number of time-outs, possessions, and stats on all the players.”

“But isn't the score all that matters?” Mrs. Sackett asked.

“Always,” Coach agreed. “That's what I've been telling my boys. Bells and whistles and shiny new toys don't win games.”

“You'll win tonight,” Alex said confidently. She stood and tucked her note cards into her school bag.

Ava shook her head. Sometimes Alex acted as if it were so simple to win a football game.
Alex had never been on the field. Plus, Ava had heard that the Ravens had a punishing defense.

“I hope so.” Coach drained his coffee. “Got to go. Hey, Laur, should we keep the ice cream thing to the players or invite parents, too?”

Her mom continued to scroll through different web pages. “Huh? Ice cream?”

“The annual Ice Cream Chow-Down,” her dad repeated.

“What's that?” Ava asked. Ashland had so many football traditions, it was impossible to keep them straight.

“Next Friday after the game, all the players have an ice cream chow-down at the coach's house,” Coach Sackett explained.

“Thirty boys who eat like Tommy are coming here to stuff themselves with ice cream?” Alex wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? We'll need a truckload of ice cream.”

“And hot fudge and whipped cream,” Tommy added. “Rainbow sprinkles, too.”

Their mom groaned. “A chow-down? Hon, you know I'm trying to start up my ceramics business. It's hard to find the time to make the pottery, package and send it, advertise, plus—”

“It's for the team, Laur,” their dad interrupted. “They're a big part of our lives now.”

“That's just it—” their mom began.

“We'll help,” Ava broke in. “Al and I excel at ice cream.”

“You know, Daddy, just because you, Tommy, Ava, and this whole town live and breathe football doesn't mean Mom has to twenty-four/seven too,” Alex said. In the short time they'd been here, they'd quickly learned that the team expected more than just coaching from their dad. They also expected a lot more from the family—barbecues, fund-raisers, and apparently, ice cream chow-downs.

“Ice cream is not football,” Tommy protested.

“It's better than football,” Alex quipped.

“Whoa there!” Coach clutched his hands to his heart, pretending to be horrified.

Mrs. Sackett let out a shriek. “Look at this! Look at this!” She jabbed her finger at the computer screen.

Ava hurried over, followed by the rest of the family. “That aqua bowl is yours, right?”

Mrs. Sackett nodded. “It's featured on my website, but this isn't my site. On this site people post crafts and art that they like. It's called pinning.
Check out how many times my vase has been pinned!”

“Wow! Four hundred forty-six times,” Alex said. “Impressive.”

“Is that a lot?” Ava asked. She pretty much only watched movies and checked sports scores on the computer. Alex was the social media goddess. She knew everything about every site.

“Huge,” Alex said. “And every pin links back to Mom's site. Mom is famous.” She reached over and clicked the screen to the web page she'd helped their mom set up. “Check this out. Orders are pouring in!”

Mrs. Sackett squealed. “Oh my God. I
am
famous! And busy! This is crazy!”

Ava was proud of her mom. She used to teach art in their old town, but since they'd moved, she was focusing on her old love, ceramics. Ava couldn't believe how talented she was. Ava could barely draw stick figures.