'Tis the Off-Season (9 page)

“Look at me and tell me honestly. Do you
want
to host this party?”

“Of course! Well, sure, kind of. Actually, not really,” she finally admitted. “It would be a ton of work, and planning, and cleanup and stuff. But I promised my friends. And I can't let them down.”

“So use me as the reason,” said Scott simply. “Tell your friends your uncle has suddenly shown up for a visit, and he doesn't like wild parties. Someone else is bound to step up and volunteer.”

Alex blinked at him. “That's a brilliant idea,” she said. “Why didn't
I
think of it?”

“And keep using words like ‘ostracize,' ” Scott added, grinning. “I like your style.”

Alex beamed.

“And you, Ave? Is everything cool between you and your parents, or do you have an issue with them too?”

“I have an issue,” said Ava.

“She really does have a reason to be mad,” said Tommy loyally. “They're not letting her play basketball. Have you
met
her? If she can't play sports, she's going to spontaneously combust.”

“I have ADHD,” said Ava glumly. “I was diagnosed this year. And they think I need more structure and time to devote to my homework and stuff. They talked to the learning specialist at school, who told Mom that night practices are going to be ‘disruptive.' ”

“Hmm, I see,” said Scott. He scratched his scruffy chin.

“The thing my parents don't seem to realize is that
not
playing a sport is making me less able to concentrate, not
more
able,” said Ava. “I mean, like this dumb persuasive essay I'm supposed to write. I turned in my outline and everything, but I just can't seem to get fired up enough to write four pages about why we should have a longer lunch hour.”

“Yeah, that does sound kind of tedious,” agreed Uncle Scott.

“I just can't sit still and focus for two seconds on it. I need to run around. Studies have shown that. I mean, I haven't actually
read
any, but I'm pretty sure studies have shown it.”

“Hmm,” Scott said. “You sound like you want to persuade your parents to let you play, right?”

“Well, yes, but they won't listen because—”

“You want to
persuade
them.” He emphasized the word.

“Yes.”

“So why not make that a topic for a
persuasive
essay?”

Ava stared at him. It was such an obvious solution! “But I already submitted the outline,” she said.

“So e-mail your teacher and see if you can change your topic. Go find your studies and use them. And write it in your essay. The best writing comes from feeling passionate about something, and you are obviously passionate about this subject.”

Now it was Ava's turn to blink at Uncle Scott. “That's brilliant,” she said.

“Of course it's brilliant,” he said. “I really don't know how the three of you guys were able to function before I came back into your lives.” He scooted back down into a reclining position, which caused Moxy to jump off the bed and shake herself, her collar jingling, and made Tommy topple to the side and almost fall off the bed. “Now beat it,” he said, closing his eyes. “Your father is going to get me up early in the morning so we can finish working on the car. I need my beauty sleep.”

The next morning Ava woke up and immediately turned on her computer to see if there was a message from Mr. Rader. There was. He was okay with her changing her topic.

“Yes!” she said out loud, and got dressed quickly.

When she got downstairs, Mrs. Sackett was pulling eggs out of the refrigerator. Butter sizzled in the pan. Strips of shiny bacon were already cooked and draining on a paper towel. Alex was emptying the dishwasher.

“Where's Uncle Scott?” asked Ava.

“He and your father have gone to the hardware store for more supplies,” said Mrs. Sackett. “What he made yesterday was quite delicious, but I thought we'd have a more, um, traditional breakfast today.”

Ava watched her mother crack an egg into her coffee cup. “Mom,” she said gently, nodding her head toward the coffee cup.

“What?” said her mother. “Oh, drats.” She dumped the coffee into the sink. “What a day this is turning out to be,” she said. “My clients just asked me to speed up the timing of their pottery order by a week. I just got a text from Michelle Cookson, who says she has a cold and can't help out at the day-care center this afternoon, so now I need to help Mrs. Barnaby find more helpers besides me to come with you to the day care, and—”

“Mom,” said Alex. She stepped close to her mother and put a calming hand on the side of her cheek, just as Uncle Scott had done to her. “Sit. Have another cup of coffee. I'll finish making the eggs. Tommy can take Moxy out. Ava can text some of our friends and get them to meet us at the college and help oversee. You don't have to go. We'll handle it.”

“You will?” asked Mrs. Sackett. Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you guys being so kind and helpful? I thought I was the worst mother in the world.”

Alex gave her mother a bear hug. Ava joined her. Tommy's mouth was full, but he managed a grin and a thumbs-up.

“No, you're not,” said Ava. “You're the best.”

“I can't believe we got six kids to help out on a beautiful Sunday afternoon!” said Alex, as she and Ava surveyed the scene at the day-care center. Her heart was full of happiness. Plus, Corey was among the volunteers.

“Yeah, it's nice that so many of them rallied,” agreed Ava.

“Hey, I heard you typing away all morning,” said Alex. “What were you working on?”

“My essay,” said Ava with a grin. “I'm almost done.”

Alex beamed. “That's awesome, Ave,” she said.

Lindsey and Emily were building a block castle with three little kids. Kylie was sitting at a table with a shy little boy, drawing pictures of horses. Corey and Jack were playing foam basketball with several little kids in the padded play area of the large room. Even Charlotte was there. She was overseeing two little kids at the finger-painting section.
She seems a little overdressed for babysitting,
Alex thought, glancing at Charlotte's flowing chiffon blouse and fashionable suede ankle boots.

“Mrs. Barnaby was psyched so many of us were coming,” said Ava. “She told Mom she had so much confidence in us, she felt comfortable proctoring the test and letting us be in charge. So we're on our own until five.”

“Incoming!” bellowed Corey. He was speed-walking across the room, holding a giggling two-year-old at arm's length.

Alex and Ava both laughed.

“Looks like Corey's got a diaper crisis!” said Alex.

Corey looked pleadingly into Alex's eyes. “I'll give you my entire college fund if you change this smelly diaper for me,” he said to her.

Alex laughed again and took the little girl from Corey's grasp. “That won't be necessary,” she said. “You were really nice just to volunteer to be here today. But I'll try to think of some way you can pay me back.”

“Thanks, Alex,” said Corey, and the smile he gave her made her knees go weak.

Hey!
she thought.
I'm flirting! I thought I was terrible at flirting!

Then she noticed Lindsey staring at them from across the room. She turned around quickly and hoisted the toddler up onto the changing table. What was Lindsey thinking? Lindsey and Corey seemed to have been acting pretty normal toward each other this morning—more normal than they'd seemed in a while—but Alex still felt very weird vibes whenever Lindsey caught Alex and Corey together, no matter how innocent the situation.

“When are you going to tell them about not hosting the party?” asked Ava in a low voice, after Alex had set the little girl down and they'd watched her race back to the basketball game.

Alex took a deep breath. “Now's as good a time as any, I guess,” she said.

“Good luck,” said Ava.

“Thanks,” said Alex. She squared her shoulders and marched over to the block corner.

“Hi!” said Alex brightly. She sat down on the floor next to Emily and Lindsey, who were now watching the kids destroy the castle. “Thanks so much again for coming today,” she said.

Emily smiled. “I love little kids,” she said. “And two hours didn't seem like much to ask for a worthy cause.”

Lindsey nodded. “Plus, it got me out of my weekend chores,” she said.

“So I have something to tell you guys,” said Alex. She swallowed, took a breath, and plunged on. “See, my uncle Scott showed up unexpectedly the other night. He's going to be staying with us through the holidays. We're not going back to Massachusetts anymore. And so here's the problem. With him staying at our house, I can't . . . I can't . . .”

Emily and Lindsey stared at her, wide-eyed.

“ . . . I can't host the party.”

The words hung in the air. Alex held her breath. She watched her friends exchange looks.

“Oh no,” said Emily.

“Oh
no
!” echoed Lindsey.

“People have already started making Secret Santa gifts,” said Emily.

“And they've already bought their ugly sweaters,” said Lindsey.

With every sentence, Alex stomach sank more, and her shoulders hunched up a little higher. This was a social catastrophe from which she would never recover. She'd probably have her class presidency taken away. Could you be impeached from seventh-grade office? The warm, rosy feeling she'd had just a short time ago had now been replaced by gloom and dread. She had failed this social examination and would never recover. She would—

“Hey.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone standing behind her. Emily and Lindsey, who were sitting facing Alex, looked up. Alex turned.

It was Corey.

He was holding a toddler cradled in each arm. Both kids were sweaty and red-faced from all the basketball, but happily slurping juice boxes. Alex recognized one of them as Dougie.

“We're just taking a little juice break,” he explained. “What's all the fuss about?”

“It's the party,” said Lindsey. “Alex just told us she can't have it at her house because her uncle is staying with them.”

Great, now Corey will never speak to me again either,
Alex thought.

“He's . . . he's not a fan of parties,” Alex stammered out. Although that was so not true. Uncle Scott loved parties. But he had given her permission to say that.

Dougie held up his juice box and squeezed it. A stream of apple juice squirted the side of Corey's face.

“Hey, thanks, sport,” said Corey.

Despite her agitation, Alex found herself laughing. He didn't even get mad at the kid. He was so good-natured!

“No one panic yet,” said Corey. “I can ask my mom if we can host it at
our
house. I'm sure it's no big deal.”

Emily and Lindsey sprang to their feet. Alex did too.

“That would be so amazing!” said Emily breathlessly.

“Here, hold him,” said Corey, passing a kid to Emily. “And you hold him,” he said with a mischievous smile as he passed Dougie to Alex. “Just watch out for that loaded juice box. This kid is trigger-happy.”

He pulled a paper towel from his pocket and wiped off his face. Then he took out his phone and stepped to the side of the room, where it was a little quieter.

Alex noticed Charlotte making her way toward them. She had a swath of blue finger paint across her forehead. “Anyone know how to get finger paint out of suede boots?” she asked the assembled group.

Alex again wondered why on earth Charlotte had worn such nice clothes to volunteer today, but then she remembered how she'd run to put on a little makeup when Ava had told her that Corey was coming.

“I wonder if you could brush them—” she began.

“My mom said sure,” Corey called out, glancing up from his phone.