Chapter 16

Monday night I got home about six. It was kind of nice. With football and the play done for the year, all I had to worry about was school and gymnastics. It was almost like having free time. I parked in front of the trailer and then walked Tami to her house, with Kelly beside us heading for her own.

"Good practice," I said, swatting my favorite munchkin on the butt as Tami and I stopped in front of her house.

"I don't think Cheyenne thought so," Kelly giggled.

"Go!" I said, pointing at Kelly's house. Kelly giggled again and skipped to her back door, waved, and disappeared.

"I think she's right." Tami said.

"I know she's right, but right now I want to think about kissing the future Mrs. Sims, not a spoiled brat."

Cheyenne had told me at the beginning of practice that she wanted to work on her double back flip. I knew she'd been working it at the club and almost had it to the point where Gary was thinking of letting her compete it. But I told her no and explained that I wasn't good enough to spot it yet and that our floor wasn't as good as the club's.

Half-an-hour later I saw her do one by herself. She over-rotated the landing and fell back on her butt, finishing with a backward roll. I screamed her name from clear across the gym, then sat her on a stack of mats and kept her there the whole practice. She'd scared the hell out of me.

"What are you going to do about her?" Tami asked.

"You weren't listening. Right now I want to think about kissing the future Mrs. Sims, not a spoiled brat." I sealed my point by kissing Tami long and hard.

"Tony, you had a call," Mom said from the kitchen as I walked in.

"Actually, you had seven calls," Dad corrected from behind a newspaper.

"Seven?" Why hadn't they called me on my cell? Then I realized that I'd left it on my dresser this morning.

Just then the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Traci yelled from her room. By almost knocking me down, she got it before the second ring had completely died. "Sims residence. Oh, he's here." She handed the phone to me. "It's for you," she said in a disappointed voice.

"Toneijrdglhguvndgeruhg iunbtruinbrtnbiotrnstrio."

I looked at the phone. I wondered if I needed one of the scrambler gadgets that spies fixed on their phones. I was pretty sure the first syllable-and-a-half was my name, but after that...

"Once more in English," I suggested.

"Tony, it's me, Ijsdgekrglrgvnrelavubsrlanbvbvn."

Progress. It's me. "Hailey?"

"Hey! I, like, said it was me!"

"Now try the rest, separating everything into individual words."

"Pickledick."

"Now that I heard."

"Where have you been? I've so been, like, calling and calling."

"School and gymnastics practice."

"Hey! I got an A. Like, almost an A. An A-minus. Ninety-four percent."

"I'm very disappointed young lady. I expected at least one hundred."

Hailey giggled. "But I'm, like, so gonna pass history!"

"This time."

"Hey!"

"Whitney Gwyneth, I don't expect you to become Super Student. Hell, I don't even want you to. But maybe we could learn a little about priorities."

"Maybe."

"So what did you miss?"

"I kinda got it right, but Mrs. Cleaver didn't like your answer about the Gobi."

The Gobi? When had I mentioned the giant Chinese desert. "You mean the Golan? The Golan Heights?"

"Yeah."

"If you called it the Gobi, I can understand why."

"Hey! I didn't. Like, I don't think I did."

"Check your paper. If you didn't, get her e-mail and I'll argue the point with her. I figure you need every point you can get."

"Hey! Was that, like, a diss?"

"Yep. Want to talk to Trace?"

"Okay."

"Just for a minute. Dinner's almost ready." I cupped my hand over the phone. "Traci!" I yelled. "Telephone." I lifted the phone up again. " Don't teach her any more words," I added to Hailey as an afterthought.

"If I got an intercom, would you use it?" Mom asked, setting a pot on the dining room table.

"Nope, yelling is more fun. Efficient too," I said, handing the phone to my sister.

Mom shook her head and retreated to the kitchen.

"I take it your cousin did well on her history final?" Dad asked from behind his paper.

"Yep," I said with a smile he couldn't see. "Ninety-four. We figured she needed at least a high sixty to a low seventy."

"Good, I'm glad. That was a good thing you did."

"Thanks."

Dad closed and folded his paper. "By the way, just for the record, I really don't like being used."

"Uh, used?"

"But, Dad, Tami volunteered me to tutor her," dad mimicked.

"Oh, yeah, I..."

"Remember the Steve Martin movie, Sergeant Bilko?"

I nodded.

"The original with Phil Silvers was better, but just remember, you ain't that good."

"Yes, sir," I said nodding.

"But still, it was a good thing you did. We should raise your allowance," he said just as Traci walked back in to hang up the phone. "We'll double it."

"Don't be stingy dear," Mom said, placing a plate of rolls on the table. "Triple it."

"Now wait a minute," Traci protested before she remembered that I hadn't gotten an allowance since I'd started working. "I say we quadruple it."

The next day, Cheyenne didn't come out of the locker room with the other girls. I have to admit that I was kind of relieved. Maybe she was taking the day off. I watched as Kelly started stretching the other girls. It was a pretty good group, but I kinda missed last year's smaller, more intimate one.

"Is he the one?" I heard behind me as I instructed Kelly to really work their backs. I turned. Cheyenne in her leotard was standing next to man about my dad's age, probably her dad. 'I don't need this, ' I thought. "Cheyenne, you're late. Get stretching. Make sure you work your wrists and ankles." I turned back to the girls.

"Tony Sims?" the man said a few seconds later.

"I'm Tony," I acknowledged without turning around.

"Could I see you?" he asked as I moved over to Cassie Williams to adjust her leg on her splits.

"I'm a little busy," I said, standing and moving back again.

"Young man! I'm not used to being kept waiting."

I counted to ten in English, Spanish and German, considering whether to answer him 'Old man, I couldn't care less what you're used to.' I decided to be good. I counted to ten in French, Russian and Afrikaans for good measure. "Tami!" I yelled. She was standing by the beam, talking with Miss Calloway. I nodded my head, and she walked over. "Could you watch them?"

She glanced at Cheyenne and her dad, then nodded.

"Can I help you?" I asked pleasantly as I walked over, ignoring the fact that Cheyenne hadn't started stretching like she'd been told.

"I'm John Morris, Cheyenne's dad."

"Nice to meet you," I said, offering my hand which he ignored.

"Cheyenne tells me that you haven't been treating her very well."

'I treat her as well as any brat' is what I wanted to say. But I knew if I wanted to coach, I had to get used to dealing with parents. Might as well start now. "I'm sorry to hear that."