'Tis the Off-Season (7 page)

“Alex,” she said gravely. “Can I talk to you privately?”

“Um, sure,” said Alex, her voice high and tight. Her stomach did a cartwheel. This was it. Lindsey was going to let her have it for pouncing on her ex-boyfriend the second they'd broken up. She was going to tell Alex it was the end of their friendship. Alex would be shunned by the group. She might as well drop out of school now and ask her mom to homeschool her, or send her away somewhere. Maybe military school. Anything would be better than—

“Alex?”

Alex jumped. “Sorry,” she said. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to make sure,” said Lindsey, “that it's really okay for you guys to host the party. Your mom didn't seem too psyched about it in the car the other day, when we brought it up.”

Relief eddied through Alex's entire body, like warm waves foaming around a rocky shore. It was about the party, not Corey! “Oh! That!” She laughed lightly. “Of course it's okay! My mom was just, ah, just concerned about how much turkey chili to make, that's all. We are totally psyched to have the party.” She would just have to convince her parents to change their minds. Maybe if she could get them to see that not hosting this party would mean the end of Alex's social existence for the remainder of her life in Ashland, they'd understand how important it was.

Lindsey looked relieved. She smiled, her bright-white teeth glinting. “Oh, good. Well, just wanted to make sure.” She gave Alex a friendly bump with her shoulder, and together they went into homeroom.

The rest of the school day proved uneventful, except that when she dropped her eraser in math class, Corey went practically horizontal as he leaped out of his chair to retrieve it for her. The whole class laughed, even Ms. Kerry.

That evening, Alex finished her social studies reading just as her mother called her to set the table for dinner. It was a unit on economics, which other kids had complained was boring, but Alex secretly found fascinating. She loved learning about balancing budgets and learning terms like “supply and demand” and “opportunity cost” and “economies of scale.”

As she descended the stairs, a sudden thought struck her. An amazing, incredible thought. It was the answer to her problems! She bounded down the rest of the stairs and found her parents talking together in low voices in a corner of the kitchen, their heads bent toward each other as though they didn't want to be overheard. When Alex came in they jumped back, almost guiltily.

What is the big secret?
Alex wondered. She was no longer optimistic about it being a special Christmas surprise, but what else could it be? She pushed her curiosity aside for the moment—first things first. She skipped over to the cupboard and pulled out five dinner plates, and then pirouetted over to the table to lay them down, humming a little.

Her mother's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Have you decided to cheer up, then, Alex?” she asked. “You've been doing a lot of dramatic sighing these past few days.”

Alex smiled. “I know, sorry,” she said. “I didn't realize how much our flights to Boston would have cost the family, so I shouldn't have assumed we could also afford to throw a party. I know that the opportunity cost of flying to Boston meant we would need to forgo the party, because to do both would have been prohibitively expensive for our family budget.”

Coach nodded warily and handed Alex five napkins from the drawer.

“But here's the thing,” said Alex, laying each napkin to the left of each plate. “What just occurred to me is, now that we're not flying to Boston, we'll suddenly have all that money back in the bank, right? So according to economic theory, the value of the resource we didn't use can now be applied to the next most valuable resource.”

Her mother crossed her arms and lowered her chin, frowning at Alex.

“So,” Alex continued, a bit more uncertainly, “what I was thinking was, maybe now we can? Have the party? Here? With all the money we saved? It wouldn't cost more than one-fifth of one ticket. Or one-fourth maybe.” She trailed off in a whisper and looked first at her mother and then at her father.

Fathers are not supposed to roll their eyes,
Alex thought. That was kind of a violation of the laws of nature. But she was pretty sure her father had just rolled his eyes.

“Alex, your mother and I have said we can't host your party,” he said. “We haven't changed our minds. What we do with the family's finances is, frankly, not really your business. Your mother and I work hard for a living, and at keeping this family clothed and fed and reasonably happy and healthy. But we must make choices. And hosting a seventh-grade holiday party is not, I regret to have to say again, a top priority.” He handed her the silverware.

Alex's heart sank. Despair and anger at her parents engulfed her. She practically flung the silverware down at each place setting and stomped out of the kitchen without a word. Did her parents
enjoy
ruining her life?

Dinner that night was another quiet and gloomy affair. Mr. and Mrs. Sackett seemed annoyed at the three Sackett kids. For what, Alex could not fathom. They were the ones who had destroyed Tommy's music career. And Ava's basketball career. And Alex's social life. No, correction. Her whole
entire
life. And on top of that, they were the reason there'd be no snow this Christmas. No one said much, and even Tommy pushed away his plate after only three helpings.

Finally Alex asked to be excused. Her siblings muttered the same.

“Dishes first,” said Mr. Sackett.

Well, of course. When do we
not
have to do the dishes?
Alex thought bitterly. She knew of
plenty
of kids who were never asked to do dishes. In fact, Charlotte had casually mentioned the other day that they had not one, but two different housekeepers. And once, Charlotte had gotten picked up from school by her father's driver.
Charlotte has probably never lifted a sponge in her entire life,
Alex thought as she rinsed a plate. But given her parents' sudden and utter lack of comprehension of what it was like to be in middle school, and how much things mattered, like not backing out of hosting a party after you've said you
would
host it, it seemed wise to keep these thoughts to herself.

“One moment before you go, kids,” said Mrs. Sackett.

The dishes done, all three kids had started for the door, but now they halted.

“Mrs. Barnaby is going to need some help again at the day-care center on Sunday afternoon,” said Mrs. Sackett.

“I have rehearsal at three,” said Tommy quickly.

Mrs. Sackett smacked her brow. “Of course. I forgot. Well, at least I'll have Ava and Alex.”

The twins exchanged outraged looks.

“The day care isn't usually open on Sundays, but the college is administering a big exam, and many of the staffers can't be available to watch people's kids,” said Mrs. Sackett.

Alex was not inclined to say yes in light of how her mother had said no—again, and for no good reason—to her party. “I'm not sure,” she said. “I might have plans.”

“Me too,” said Ava, who was clearly not feeling generous toward her mother either.

Coach put down his glass and stared at the twins. “You'll both help out,” he said firmly.

Both girls started to protest, saw the look on his face, and closed their mouths again.

Moxy was under the table, where she'd been waiting for the possibility of scraps falling. Suddenly she streaked out and nosed open the swinging door of the kitchen, barking like crazy.

And then the front doorbell rang.

Ava was the first one to reach the front door. It was unusual to have a visitor at this time on a Friday night, ringing the front doorbell. Most people they knew just rapped on the side door leading to the kitchen, and it was too late for a salesperson. Maybe it was Corey again?

By this point Tommy and Alex had joined her. It struck Ava that they must also think this visitor was going to be worth coming out to see. She stood on tiptoe and peered through the peephole. Then she gasped.

“Who is it?” demanded Tommy, moving her firmly to one side so he could have a look himself. “No way,” he said.

By now Alex was struggling to hip-check her brother out of the way so that she could look too, but without success. Tommy simply brushed her away with one of his strong forearms, unlocked the door, and flung it wide open.

A tall, good-looking, somewhat scruffy-faced young man stood on the stoop.

For a split second, Ava didn't recognize him. Then her jaw dropped.

“Uncle Scott!” shrieked Alex.

Uncle Scott set down the two bags he was carrying and opened his arms wide. The two girls barreled into him for a hug. Tommy gave him a half hug from the side, given that the girls were taking up most of the front stoop. Moxy was still barking, but now it was excited barking, as though she remembered him and just wanted to announce his arrival.

The three kids pulled him inside and closed the door. Moxy ran around them in a circle, showing off her sheepherding skills.

“Uncle Scott, what are you
doing
here?” asked Ava. “I thought you were backpacking through Asia!”

“That was
last
year,” said Alex. “Weren't you just in Alaska, on a fishing boat?”

Tommy, who had been peering through the window next to the front door, spoke up before Scott had a chance to answer. “Where's that awesome little red sports car you used to drive, Uncle Scott? How did you get here?”

“I took a cab from the bus station, T,” he said. “And that sports car turned out to be overrated.”

By this time Mr. and Mrs. Sackett had emerged from the kitchen. They did not look surprised to see Scott. Ava realized they'd been expecting him. Scott disentangled himself from the girls, stepped forward, and kissed Mrs. Sackett on both cheeks, European-style, and then hugged Coach—somewhat stiffly, Ava noticed.

With a slight shock, she realized it had been at least two years since they'd seen him. They'd gotten the occasional postcard, always from far-flung places. She and Alex had mounted each of his postcards on the bulletin board between their beds in their old house. They'd collected at least two dozen. She wondered where those postcards were now.
Alex probably has them filed by date in a box somewhere,
she thought.

Uncle Scott was several years younger than Coach—the youngest of Coach's three siblings. Sometimes he looked more like a teenager than a grown-up. Ava took in his fashionably scruffy face, faded jeans, trendy sneakers, black T-shirt, and close-fitting jacket. Like Coach, he was ruggedly handsome, but more like a guy in an aftershave commercial than, well, a dad. All the Sackett brothers had slightly curly hair, but while Coach had green eyes, Scott's eyes were dark brown and shiny, like espresso coffee beans.

“Uncle Scott is coming to stay for a while,” Coach said to the kids. “We've invited him to spend the holidays with us.”

“Why didn't you
tell
us?” squealed Alex. “We haven't seen him—we haven't seen you in ages, Uncle Scott! Have you been traveling the world?” she asked him eagerly. “Do you have a girlfriend? What happened to that glamorous actress you were dating back when Ava and I were in fifth grade? Remember we went to see her in that movie where she played a dead body?”

Before Scott could answer, Tommy was also firing questions.

“Do you remember when you took me to game four of the World Series when the Sox beat the Rockies?” asked Tommy. “And how Mike Lowell and Bobby Kielty both hit home runs and I almost caught a ball? Maybe we can go to a Mavericks game while you're here. And did you hear we won State?”

While Tommy was recounting the final few moments of the Tigers' state championship win, Ava looked from Uncle Scott to her father and back again. Uncle Scott seemed a little ill at ease, and she wondered why. He had always had such an easygoing, relaxed personality. She remembered that Tommy had always looked up to Scott more like an older brother than an uncle, and no wonder. As the youngest of the four Sackett boys, Scott was the only one who'd stayed behind in Texas, even after Ava's grandparents had moved to Florida. But as far as she knew, that was just a place from which he'd had his mail forwarded. For as long as she could remember, he'd been something of a wanderer, traveling the world, never holding down a job for long. For the first time ever, she wondered if her father and Scott got along. Could it be possible that maybe they had quarreled? Why else would Coach not have mentioned that Scott was coming?

“Have you eaten dinner, Scott?” asked Mrs. Sackett.

“Yep, I just ate,” said Scott. “I didn't want you to have to worry about my special eating plan on the very first night.”

“Special eating plan?” repeated Mrs. Sackett. Ava thought she sounded way too polite and formal to be talking to her brother-in-law.

“Oh! Ha, yeah,” said Scott with a little chuckle. “I'm Ayurvedic now. Still vegetarian, of course, but nowadays I don't eat eggs or dairy. Or nightshade vegetables, like tomatoes and peppers. Those toxic alkaloids affect my vibrational and physical channels in negative ways.”

“I see,” said Mrs. Sackett faintly.

“Hey, I'm a vegetarian now too!” said Alex. “Should I stop eating nightshade vegetables like you?”

Mrs. Sackett gave Alex a panicked look. Ava saw Coach slip his hand into her mother's and give it a little squeeze.

Scott laughed. “Maybe wait until you've gotten totally used to being a vegetarian, Alex,” he said. He ran a hand through his already unruly curls. “I'm pretty beat. It's been a long day.”

“Yes, you do look tired,” said Mrs. Sackett. “We'll put you in the study. Tommy, you can carry his bags in there. Ava, run and get some clean sheets and a pillow. And don't forget a towel.”