Chapter 44

"Traci, get your big fat butt out here!" I yelled from the living room.

"What?" she asked a minute later, looking a little apprehensive. I'd rode back from Yakima with her and the folks yesterday, and she hadn't said five words to me. Now Mom and Dad were off having a quiet Sunday brunch, and I was calling her butt fat.

"You are going to learn a back walkover and back handspring if it kills you," I said as I pushed the chairs and sofa out of the way to create room.

"What?" she said again.

"No sister of mine is going to be one the first gymnastics team at the middle school and embarrass herself by not doing her best."

"But..."

"No buts. Start stretching. Though you may want to change first. It'll be easier in shorts than jeans."

"But..."

"No buts. You're on the team, and I'm one of the coaches. I said stretch."

"You knew," she accused.

"Traci." I scooped her up and sat down with her on my lap. "In the car Wednesday, I didn't know. And I didn't mean what I said to be mean, even if it wasn't you being one of the new girls. Basically, it's going to be harder for you and the other new girl to be competitive when you're in with a bunch of girls who've been doing this for years.

"You may not be very good this year, but you're a Sims. Look at Mom, college softball and volleyball. Then there's me." I buffed my fingernails on my shirt. "Of course there's also dad, but we'll just have to hope you don't take after him."

I pushed her off my lap. "Go get changed."

"Do you want me to tell Tami I'm not mad anymore?"

"Nope. It's good for her to be mad at me every now and then. We were due."

She took a couple of steps, then turned back and stared at me. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"Would I be your coach if I didn't?" She seemed to accept that and nodded. "Traci, I haven't got a clue what I'm doing," I admitted before she started back to her room. "But after we got home yesterday Kelly showed me some stuff, and she's coming by in a while to help."

"Okay," she said, nodding again. My sister is way too trusting to be my sister. She must be adopted.

"Where's Zoe?" I asked, looking around. "She didn't ride the bus yesterday either."

I was talking to Traci since Tami was still ignoring me.

"I think she's sick. She misses a lot of school."

"I hadn't noticed," I admitted. Usually I was too focused on Tami. I guess there's a silver lining to everything if you look deep enough. Having Tami mad at me, gave me a chance to notice the rest of the world.

Yesterday had been a pretty good day for a Monday. The whole school was psyched about our win and the fact we were going back to the Tacoma Dome for the state championship. In fact, the only black mark, aside from the fact that I don't get my Tami-walk when Tami's mad at me, was that Mom and Dad seemed upset about something after dinner, and I couldn't find out what it was.

The bus pulled up, and we started piling on. I noticed that Traci sat with Kelly. The two had been real friendly since our impromptu lesson Sunday. I also noticed Ann glare at them as she sat with a girl I didn't know.

I swung into an empty seat, and a second later Tami sat next me, then continued to ignore me. Which was cool. I'd rather be close to her mad, than far away in love. I think.

"Mr. Walker, I had an idea," I said as soon as journalism had started.

Mr. Walker groaned. "Is this going to involve you getting suspended or me getting fired?"

"I don't think so. But with Parker and I in the same school, you never know."

"Mr. Parker," he corrected automatically.

"Isn't that what I said?" I asked innocently.

Mr. Walker sighed. "What's your idea?"

"We've been running profiles on student athletes..."

"And you think it's your turn," he finished for me.

"Actually, it should have been my turn a month ago, but that wasn't my idea."

"Well?"

"I think we should do a weekly profile on students who make a difference."

"I see. What do you mean by make a difference?"

'Well, Brenda Kelly volunteers at the hospital. Paul Reiser and Susan Sherman help out at the Humane Society. Cindy Brady helps with the girl scouts. Her troop has been tops in cookie sales the last couple years."

"That's a good idea, Tony. But why do I have a feeling that you have somebody else in mind to start with?"

"I was thinking, to start the series, just off the top of my head, you understand..."

Mr. Walker sighed. "Tony, did you ever think about getting straight to the point? I already like the idea. You don't have to sell so hard."

"Where's the fun in that?" Mr. Walker looked at the ceiling. Maybe I should be a priest. I seem to inspire a lot of people to look to God. "Something wrong?"

"Just trying to remember why I wanted to be a teacher."

"'Cause you wanted to mold bright, impressionable minds," I suggested.

"Yeah, that's it. Okay, what's your idea? And without all the B.S. I want to get home before midnight."

"Well, you probably know that the middle school is starting a gymnastics team this year." Mr. Walker nodded. "There's a girl here at the high school who is giving up all her afternoons to help out with them. And she isn't even a gymnast."

"I see. Do I know her?"

"She's a solid student. A's and B's. Involved in extra curricular activities like the newspaper. And a real school supporter. Hasn't missed a football game this season."

"Sounds good," he mused. "You know what would really sell it? If she had a boyfriend on the team."

"As a matter of fact. Though she's mad at him at the moment."

He smiled. "Use B-4 for the interview. I want a first draft on my desk in the morning."

"Have I mentioned you're my favorite teacher?"

"Only when you want something." He turned away to check on the rest of the class.

"Tami." She looked up from what she was writing. "We're in B-4."

She glanced at Mr. Walker, and he nodded.

I walked out into the hallway and down to B-4. The journalism room, for reasons known only to long gone administrators, was in the basement under the main gym. As you came down the stairs, B-1, the dark room, was on your left. The journalism room, B-2 was next to it. Then B-3 and B-4, two smaller classrooms that we used for special projects. Across from the journalism room was the boys' locker room, and just past B-4, the girls'.