Chapter 43

Tami was sitting in the driver's seat of Dad's Porsche when Larry dropped off me and Robbie.

"Lookin' good, girl." I said, leaning in the window.

Tami grinned, gripped the steering wheel and pretended to steer.

"Should I even ask why you're sitting there?"

"Your dad gave me a driving lesson. I'm basking."

"My dad let you drive his baby?"

Tami nodded. I opened the door and held out my hand to Tami. "I guess it's official. Welcome to the family."

Tami climbed out. "He said I was easier on the clutch than you are."

My jaw dropped.

"I wonder if I can talk him into a lesson too," Robbie said.

"Probably," I said with a grin of my own. "Weakness for redheads runs in the family."

"I am kinda cute."

"The poor man hasn't got a chance."

Tami nodded.

The snow that had almost buried Thanksgiving was mostly gone now. In fact, for the last day of November it was beautiful. The temperature was in the low fifties, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was gonna be a crystal clear night.

"So how'd you get home?"

"Larry brought us," Robbie said as she ran her hand over the hood of the Porsche.

"I'm gonna be so glad when February gets here and I won't have to beg rides anymore," I said.

"You know, just because you get your license doesn't mean you'll have a car," Robbie cautioned.

"If you get your license," Tami added.

"What?"

"Don't forget, I've ridden with you."

I stuck my tongue out at her and pretended to pout.

"Awww, you hurt his feelings," Robbie said.

"Not really. He's just hoping I'll cheer him up." She did, pressing up against me and giving me a kiss.

"So, your parents going to buy you a car for your birthday?" Robbie asked when we came up for air.

"Not hardly."

"Well, maybe your mom will let you borrow the mini-van. At least it has an automatic so you won't have to worry about burning out the clutch," Tami suggested.

"I am NOT that bad on a clutch. Dad was just joking." I really wasn't. I don't like the things, but I can use them. "And I'll get a car."

"What? A VW bug older than my dad?" Robbie asked.

"Or something." I'd been saving for a car since I was eleven. Most of the money I'd made mowing lawns or, since moving to Washington, shoveling snow, wound up in my bank account. The last two summers I'd managed to have a real job washing dishes at the Three Blondes, a restaurant in the center of town, and that added a nice chunk too.

I had the incentive that Grandpa Doug said he'd match whatever was in there on the day of my birthday. And, of course, when I told Grandpa Cooper about that, he said he would too. I knew he would. He and Grandpa Doug have never really gotten along, and they're just a bit competitive.

What they don't know is that I've mowed a lot of lawns. I have a bit more than eight grand in savings. Mustang convertible here I come.

"At least it'll have four wheels," I told the girls as we went up the stairs.

"So how was practice?" I asked the next day.

Tami giggled. "I usually ask you that."

"You do, don't you?" I said as I got out of the mini van and kissed her.

"OHHHH!" several young girls standing by the door of the gym said.

Tami looked over at them. "Extra sit-ups tomorrow." They giggled.

I slid open the door of the van and helped Tami in, then followed her in.

"I hope you two aren't setting a bad example."

"No ma'am," we said together.

I saw mom shake her head. "We have to pick up your sister in front of the school," she said.

"We could leave her and rent out her bedroom."

"We could sell you to the circus as a dog-faced boy," Mom said as Tami punched me in the arm.

Mom pulled up to the curb, and Traci got in the front seat.

"You know, squirt, if you're going to stay after school, you could walk around to the gym with Tami and save Mom an extra stop."

Traci turned pink for some reason, but nodded. "I'll remember tomorrow."

I turned to Tami. "So how was practice? What's your team like?"

"It's your team too, if you ever get done with football."

"Next Monday, if we play like we practiced today. A week from next Monday if we play like usual."

"Not a good practice?"

"Rotten would be a compliment for what we did today. I don't think Mike completed a single pass. He was all over the place."

"What about Robbie?" Tami asked.

"She was about fifty percent."

"How about my superstar brother?" Traci asked from the front seat.

"I was worse than Mike."

"I don't believe that!" Traci declared.

I smiled. "Remind me to talk to dad about raising your allowance," I said to the back of her head. "So how about the team, how do they look?"

"There's nine girls. Seven, like Kelly, have been taking gymnastics for years. Two are just starting."

"Just what we need. Bench warmers," I mumbled.

"Anthony Sims, that wasn't very nice!" Mom said quickly, and with a little more venom than necessary.

"Sorry. I just meant that if they haven't done gymnastics before, they probably won't be much help to the team."

"What makes you the expert? You've never coached gymnastics before," Tami snapped.

"I'm not an expert," I defended myself. "But if they haven't done it, how much can they learn in three months?"

"It so happens that EVERY girl there tried their best today," Tami said and turned away from me to look out the side window.

"Do you only coach superstars?" Traci asked.

"No, but..."

"Isn't sports about trying your best?" Mom asked.

"Yes, but..." I realized that no one was listening.

It's amazing just how long a ride two miles can be.

"WILL THE FOOTBALL TEAM AND CHEERLEADERS PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT LOBBY?" the P.A. blared.

I closed my book and stood. I nodded to Miss Renland, today's substitute, and walked out of the classroom. I was the only football player in the class, but out in the hall, I was joined by more members of the team.

There was a lot of back slapping and high fives as we headed for our lockers. I put my book away, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the lobby. I'd dropped my suitcase off that morning, and hopefully it and my equipment bag were already on the bus.

In the lobby as we gathered I noticed Coach Branson talking to two men I didn't know, but I noticed that one of them had a camera. "Settle!" he yelled as we drifted in. "This is Bob Lewis and Mark Rees. They'll be riding to Tacoma with us. They work for the Wenatchee World, and Bob isn't very smart." The coach grinned. "He's the only sportswriter in the state, outside our town, that has picked us to win tomorrow."