Almost Identical #1 Read online

  I had brought my backpack to the hospital to do homework, so all I had to read were my schoolbooks. I didn’t think she’d want to hear about the causes of the American Revolution or about cell reproduction. But then I found that sheet with the Sonya Sones poem “Fantabulous,” and I read it to GoGo.

  “Oh, Sammie,” she said. “How lovely. Read it again.”

  I did. I read it again and again and again, each time I went in to see her. It seemed to make her so happy. By the end of the day I knew it by heart, and I felt like, even though I’d never met her, Sonya Sones was my new best friend.

  By late afternoon, GoGo was tired and wanted us to go home. Our mom was coming in, and GoGo needed to rest up for her visit. Promising that we’d call her the next day right after our match, Charlie and I kissed her good-bye and the whole family left. We were totally beat when we got home, even Ryan. (It’s hard work to spend the day telling unfunny jokes.) All I wanted to do was flop down on the beach and take a long nap. But such things aren’t possible when you’re Rick Diamond’s kid and it’s the day before a divisional tournament.

  “Charlie and Sammie: Get yourselves a protein snack, and I’ll see you on the court in fifteen,” he had said not ten minutes after we had arrived back at the club.

  “Dad!” Charlie and I protested. “We’re totally fried.”

  “When the going gets tough, the tough get going,” he responded as we knew he would.

  But we didn’t get mad at him. It was impossible to after seeing the way he had taken care of GoGo all day. He was so sweet to her, helping her out of bed, adjusting the TV in her hospital room, holding the cup while she sipped water out of a straw.

  Charlie and I couldn’t stop talking about it. It reminded us both of how he was when we were really little. He always took such good care of us, even when he was working all hours. He’d make us oatmeal in the morning and homemade orange juice popsicles after dinner and read to us at bedtime every night. Of course he read sports statistics, but still, he’d snuggle with us and read until we fell asleep. To this day, I can name the top five basketball free throw shooters of 2004 and tell anyone who wants to know that it’s 395 feet from home plate to the center field fence in Dodger Stadium. It was only after Charlie and I started to play tennis—no, it was only after we started to show real promise as tennis players—that he turned into tough-guy dad.

  Once we were all crammed into the car (I confess, it was a tight squeeze for me in the backseat), we drove down Pacific Coast Highway to the Sand and Surf Tennis Club, the home of our most recent triumph. We registered at the desk and got our assignment. Court six at two o’clock.

  “Welcome to the circuit, girls,” the official at the desk said. “It’s quite an honor to have achieved your Under-Fourteen ranking.”

  “My girls are going to make their presence felt in this division,” my dad said. “You’ll be seeing them on the winner’s board.”

  “We’ll all be watching for that,” the official said, and turned to the next family in line.

  Thanks, Dad, once again for making this a no-pressure situation.

  I checked the time. It was almost one o’clock. The performance at the Civic Auditorium started at two. I wondered if everyone was out-of-their-minds nervous.

  Maybe I still had time to catch Alicia. I had talked to her the night before and wished her good luck, but I was feeling the need to do it again. I kept wishing I were with the Truth Tellers and not stuck out here sweating at the Sand and Surf Tennis Club.

  “Will you excuse me for a sec, Dad?” I asked after we had gotten our official badges and dropped our gear in the locker room. “I have to make a call.”

  “Don’t be long,” he said. “You shouldn’t be chatting with your pals now. You’ve got to get your game face on, get in the zone.”

  “It’ll only take a second.”

  I went out into the parking lot and speed-dialed Alicia. It rang four times, and just before it went to voice mail, she picked up. She sounded out of breath.

  “Alicia?”

  “Sammie! I’m so glad it’s you. We’re just leaving to get in the car. The whole family’s going. Except Ramon. He was a total brat this morning, so we’re leaving him with the neighbors. How’s GoGo?”

  “She stood up this morning, all on her own. I mean, with a walker, but still, she’s making progress.”

  “That’s so great. Listen, Sammie, I’ve got to go. I wish you could be there with us. We all do.”

  “Not as much as I do. But I’m doing the right thing. We’re dedicating our match to GoGo.”

  “Then you’re bound to win. I’m so nervous. I mean, the city council and all! My dad is really proud. He pinned a white carnation on the lapel of his jacket. The only other time I’ve seen him do that is when we go to church on Christmas. I hope I don’t disappoint him.”

  “You’ll be great,” I reassured Alicia. “Speak from the heart. That’s all you have to do.”

  When I turned around, my dad was walking quickly over to me.

  “Come on, Sammie. There’s a court available for you to warm up on.”

  I followed my dad to one of the practice courts where Charlie was doing stretches against the fence and Ryan and Lauren were sitting on the bench. When we took the court and started to hit, Dad stayed on the sidelines, calling out instructions. “Move your feet, Sammie. And follow through. Don’t chop at the ball. Get to the net, Charlie. Be aggressive. Don’t hang back.”

  We practiced for about fifteen minutes. When our muscles were warm and loose, we got some water and toweled off. Then my dad went to reserve seats in the stands, Charlie went to the ladies’ room, and Ryan, who had been watching us carefully from the sidelines with Lauren, nodded his head approvingly.

  “You’re looking sharp, Sam-I-Am,” he said. “And it’s a good thing. I checked out Kozlov and Shin on the next court. Shin is fast, quick hands. Kozlov, man, she’s loaded with muscle. And she’s got a monster serve.”

  “Sammie can handle her,” Lauren piped up as if she knew anything about tennis. “She can match Kozlov pound for pound.”

  Did she say pound for pound? Yes, she did.

  Okay. That did it. I had controlled my mouth long enough. It was no longer willing to take orders from me.

  “Listen here, Lauren,” I heard my mouth saying. “You are not entitled to comment on my weight. You are not entitled to comment on any part of my body. In fact, you are not entitled to comment at all. Am I making myself clear?”

  My mouth wanted to go on, but my head told it to stop. My mouth didn’t listen, though.

  “You should stick to the areas you know about,” I went on, “like flirting and eye shadow.”

  Thanks, mouth. I think you’re done now. Take a rest.

  “Gosh, Sammie. You don’t have to get so nasty about it.” Lauren pouted. “I wasn’t saying you were fat. I mean, you don’t look all that bad.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean, Lauren?”

  “It means exactly what it means. Sure, you’re a little on the heavy side. I’m not telling you anything new. But I wouldn’t call you totally fat.”

  I looked at Ryan, expecting him to defend me. And he didn’t let me down.

  “Lauren, I think you should mind your own business and shut up now. No offense.”

  “What is with you people today?” Lauren said. “Everyone’s so touchy.”

  I grabbed my stuff and left the court. I wondered what Charlie would have done if she’d heard that. Would she have taken my side or Lauren’s?

  There was no time to think about that. The umpire was calling our names, and the crowd was gathering in the stands on court six. I was amazed at how many more people came out to see the Under-14 matches than the Under-12 matches. Dad said they were hoping to get a glimpse of someone who might become a future Wimbl
edon champ.

  Ryan’s assessment of Kozlov and Shin was right on the money. Marjorie Shin had lightning speed and great reflexes. You could tell she was a natural athlete. Quick on her feet, totally focused, and eyes that never left the ball. Her partner, Anna Kozlov, was like a hitting machine. She just hung out at the baseline and slammed back anything you hit at her. They were probably a year older than Charlie and me and, man, were they good. We had our work cut out for us.

  “What’s the game plan?” I asked Charlie after we had lost the racket spin and were heading to our positions.

  “I could always fake an injury and forfeit,” she said. When I raised my eyebrows at that remark, she laughed. “Just kidding, Sammie. There’s nothing we can do except play our game. But let’s face it: Those two are going to clean our clocks.”

  We lost our first four games. And not just regular lost, but lost as in we never scored a point. The balls just came whizzing by, and by the time I got my racket up, they were long gone. It was clear to me that although we had earned our ranking, we were way at the bottom of our division.

  A few times I looked up into the stands. Our dad was giving us his Super Focus Look, staring at us without moving, beaming us silent instructions all the way across the court. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but I actually thought Lauren looked pleased. She was holding Ryan’s hand and offering him consoling pats on the back. Ryan saw me looking at him, and when our eyes met, I just shrugged as if to say, It’s hopeless, dude. But then he did a typical Ryan thing. He jumped to his feet and started yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “Oh no you don’t. You’re not giving up. You’re going to win this thing.”

  The people around him tried to shush him. But it took more than that to shut Ryan Diamond up. He yelled out again.

  “You can win this, guys. Win it for GoGo.”

  Charlie looked up just as Ryan threw both his arms in the air and gave us the double thumbs-up—GoGo’s signature move.

  They say there is magic in words, and you know what? I believe it. When Charlie and I heard Ryan shouting GoGo’s name, something clicked in each of us.

  “We suck,” she said to me.

  “Yes, we do,” I answered.

  “I’m sick of it,” she said.

  “Me too,” I answered.

  “Let’s do this, Sammie,” she said.

  “I’m with you, Charlie,” I answered.

  And then we started to play tennis. Real tennis. I played with all my heart, believing that we could win this match. Concentrating on each shot. Remembering GoGo and how she taught us to stick together. Recalling all that I had sacrificed to be here today. Thinking of my friends at Truth Tellers and how they were giving their all at this very moment, too.

  And I said to myself, I’m going to do this. For GoGo. For Alicia. For the Truth Tellers. For me.

  Bam! I slammed a shot right down Kozlov’s line. It zoomed by her.

  Yeah! There’s one for you, GoGo.

  Pow! I served a speedball to Shin’s backhand. She couldn’t touch it.

  That’s for you, Alicia. And all the girls who couldn’t afford their cheerleading outfits.

  Whoosh! I rushed the net and got there in time to hit a volley right at Shin’s feet.

  That’s for Will Lee and short sixth-grade boys everywhere.

  Plop! I hit an unbelievable drop shot that just barely dribbled over the net. Kozlov rushed for it, but missed and crashed into the net.

  That’s for Etta and all the girls who are brave enough to have green hair and purple hair and polka-dot hair.

  As my dad would say, I was in the zone.

  Charlie was working it, too, playing inspired tennis. She was keeping up with me, shot for shot.

  We were too far behind to win the first set, but we won the second, and took the third to a tiebreaker. As a grand finale, I delivered two service aces that ended the match.

  Charlie and I threw our rackets in the air and ran into each other’s arms.

  “We did it!” she said, hugging me hard.

  “We certainly did,” I answered, hugging her harder.

  It was like old times. We were together, perfectly in sync, two halves of a mighty circle. Wow, did that feel good.

  Our dad didn’t stop talking all the way home, replaying every minute of the match. He was giggling like a little kid. Ryan was taking full credit for our success, claiming to have inspired us with his words. I kept smiling at Charlie, feeling so close and connected to her, even though Lauren had placed herself in the middle of the backseat, separating us.

  Our mom wasn’t arriving until seven thirty that night, which gave Charlie and me plenty of time to go out for Pizza Bonding. We had so much to celebrate. Our amazing and surprising win. GoGo’s recovery. Our reunion after a tough couple of weeks. Our recommitment to each other. Our friendship. Our sisterhood.

  Charlie got into the shower when we got home, and Ryan and Lauren went out to the beach for a walk. I called GoGo. She couldn’t talk just then, but I told the nurse to tell her we had won.

  “Good for you,” said the nurse. “I’m sure it will make her very happy. She talks about you girls all the time.”

  When Dad came out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice, he ruffled my hair like he used to do in the old days.

  “You were fierce out there today,” he said. “Fire in the belly. That’s what makes a champion.”

  “Thanks, Dad. By the way, can you drop Charlie and me off at Barone’s?”

  He got a funny look on his face.

  “Have you discussed it with your sister?”

  “What’s to discuss? It’s our tradition. She knows that.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

  I went to our room. Charlie was out of the shower, drying her hair with a towel.

  “I’m just going to shower real fast,” I told her, “but I’ll be ready in five minutes max. Dad said he’ll drive us.”

  “Sammie—”

  “I know what you’re going to say, Charlie, and I agree. Let’s get extra cheese today. And maybe some garlic rolls. I’m down with that. We deserve it after the way we played.”

  “Sammie,” Charlie said, draping the towel around her shoulders. “I can’t go to Barone’s. I have plans with Lauren.”

  No. I wasn’t hearing this. I must’ve gotten something wrong.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “I know we always go out for pizza. But it’s Spencer’s birthday, and his mom and dad have invited us all out for dinner.”

  “But Charlie. It’s our tradition. We’ve never missed a Pizza Bonding.”

  “I know. We’ll do it next time. I promise.”

  Next time? No, we won’t do it next time. And that’s because there isn’t going to be a next time. Not if I have anything to say about it.

  Encore!

  Chapter 17

  “Dad, can you drive me downtown right now?” I asked, hurrying out of our bedroom and into the kitchen. I hadn’t even changed clothes, just threw on some sweatpants over my tennis skort.

  “What’s the rush?” he said with a yawn. “I thought I was taking you girls to Barone’s in a while.”

  “Yeah, well, plans changed. I need you to drop me off at the Civic Auditorium. I have to be there, like, two hours ago.”

  “The Civic Auditorium?” he asked, giving me a curious look. “Why do you want to go there?”

  “I’m going to a city council meeting, actually,” I told him.

  “Oh, right. I think there’s some special program there today,” he said. “Read about it in the newspaper. Something to do with kids and adults.” Then he laughed. “That doesn’t narrow it down too much, does it?”

  “
Could we hurry, please, Dad? It’s important.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll get my keys.”

  I knew he’d do it. After the win we had delivered for him earlier, he would have driven me to Mars and back if I’d asked him to.

  I didn’t tell Charlie I was leaving or where I was going. What difference would it make to her? She was going with her friends. Now it was time for me to be with mine. I checked the time. It was after four o’clock. Probably the meeting was over. Probably I had missed the Truth Tellers’ performance. But there was always a chance. It was worth a try.

  I tapped my foot nervously as we drove the half mile or so to downtown Santa Monica. It’s not much of a downtown, just a mall, a couple of hotels, the police station, and the Civic Auditorium where they hold community events like Christmas concerts and gem shows and lectures on how to recycle your plastic and glass. As we got close, I noticed that the parking lot of the Civic Auditorium still had cars in it. That was a good sign. Where there are cars, there are people.

  “You can just let me off there, Dad.” I pointed to the main doors where a sign read A Dialogue with Our Kids, Presented by the Santa Monica City Council. Today, 2:00.

  “Oh, that’s the thing I read about,” Dad said.

  “Yeah, some of my friends are in there. I’m hoping to catch them.”

  I hadn’t told him much, if anything, about Truth Tellers since that time at the dinner table when he told me he didn’t see the point of it. He hadn’t ever asked about it again. So I didn’t see any reason to go into why I wanted to get inside so fast. I was sure my dad, unlike Alicia’s father, wouldn’t have pinned a carnation on his jacket and been a proud parent in the audience. He’s a great guy and all, but the truth is, if it doesn’t have a bouncing ball, he’s not interested.