by K. A. Holt
and Tam is talking,
but I can’t hear anything she says.
I know I looked dumb.
Even through the giant head
I could hear all the laughs.
AHHHH.
My brain is red.
On fire.
Flames.
Shooting from my eyes.
I’M the mascot.
Tonight was MY night.
My LAST night.
Why would someone try to steal that?
Well guess what?
They can’t have it.
What?
They can’t have it.
I’m not going to quit.
You were going to quit?
Tonight was my last night.
No more Falcon.
Back to the squad full-time.
But why?
You love the Falcon.
You can’t do that and be captain?
I don’t want to explain it.
I don’t want to talk anymore.
I want to find that chicken head
and rip him apart
feather by stupid feather.
The Falcon is me.
And I am it.
We are the same.
The squad and Mom . . .
well, they’ll just have to deal with it.
Alex
Alyx
Alexx
Everyone is talking.
Everyone is talking.
Everyone is talking.
That fake mascot.
Running amok.
Ruckus.
That poor Ponytail.
Eyes ablaze.
A scandal.
Wondering.
Wondering.
Who is stealing her show?
TAM
I’ve never seen her like this,
sullen,
quiet.
No smile,
not even when Becca yells,
Yearbook!
for the 47,000th time,
snapping pictures
like it’s an emergency.
I poke her shoulder,
steal her chips,
but nothing works.
The bell rings so I grab my tray,
follow Levi
who is extra energetic today.
See you later, Kate,
but she doesn’t even wave,
just looks up for a second
before she walks away.
Kate
Fine.
Whatever.
Everyone is talking about the rogue.
The fake.
The other mascot at the game.
Fine.
Whatever.
Everyone thinks it was funny.
But didn’t they see me?
How hard I worked?
How my routine was choreographed?
Practiced?
Perfect?
Fine.
Whatever.
Like I care at all.
Next game I’ll be so good,
and that turd will be forgotten.
TAM
Volleyball juggernauts,
speeding comets
destroying everything,
leaving craters
in their wake.
I smash them in the backyard,
pounding,
one by one
even though
we’re supposed to
save our energy
for the game.
But I have too much energy,
too much . . . something.
Kate barely talked to me today,
and I don’t know what that means.
Kate
Obviously, Mom does not know
about the rogue,
the imposter.
Obviously, Mom thinks
I’ve already quit
the mascot.
Obviously, I’m going to
have to tell her
that the Falcon is still alive,
wings beating.
But first,
obviously,
I need to practice more,
get better
so I can smash that imposter
and be the best.
TAM
Like three words.
All day.
That’s it.
I twist the bracelet,
her bracelet,
around and around
my wrist.
. . .
Frankie.
Neighma.
Come on!
Three words all day?
That can be a lot
as if they’re important words.
Argh!
Frankie!
You are not Yoda!
Help me!
Frankie refills my steaming tea.
She does the thing
where she tries to hide her smile
by looking in the corner
of the room instead of
at me.
Meercat climbs my arm.
Just because she feels bad in general
doesn’t mean she feels bad
toward you
or because of you.
Let her feel her feelings.
That’s the nicest thing you can do.
Should I see if she wants to come tonight?
Neighma puts her hand on my shoulder,
squeezes,
takes Meercat.
Let her be.
But . . .
She’ll feel the feelings.
Then she’ll be all right.
You give terrible advice.
Frankie squeezes my shoulder again.
No I don’t.
Kate
Jill’s sofa is so lumpy
like little gnomes
live inside
poking your butt
while they giggle and hide.
I tell her about the mascot imposter,
out of nowhere,
stealing the show,
making me look dumb,
and how super unfun
that was.
I tell her how I need to tell Mom
I can’t be captain anymore.
I need to use all my energy
to get that imposter
off the field.
I’M the mascot.
(Even if it’s still technically temporary.)
It’s MY job.
(Even if it’s supposed to be
for only a few games.)
I like it.
I’m good at it.
And then it hits me
lightning to the skull:
Being the mascot is more fun than cheering.
Whoa.
Maybe the fake mascot
will be at Tam’s game
and I can brain him with a volleyball.
Come on! Jill! Let’s go!
It’ll be fun.
You can watch Tam
in all her glory.
Or, just, you know,
maybe you can meet her,
and I can kill a chicken.
We can make it just in time!
Kate
Well, finding the chicken was a bust,
no such luck
tonight.
But Tam is on fire,
making me forget
just how mad I still am.
Is it weird that I didn’t tell Tam
I’d be at the game tonight?
I want Jill to meet her
without meeting her,
to see her,
a stranger,
lighting up the night.
TAM
It’s time for me to
throw
down
show
down
slam
dive
win
but when
I look out in the crowd
to fill up on the cheers
I see Kate!
Hey!
&
nbsp; But . . . she’s laughing
with another girl
way older
way not our age
and the girl puts her arm around Kate
and the ball sails over my head
snapping
cracking
in the corner of the court
a point
for the other team
and my head feels like the ball
smacked into IT
because
uh
who is that girl with Kate?
Kate
If I could snap my fingers right now
and freeze everyone in the building
except for myself
I would do it.
SNAP.
Then I’d push through all the frozen people
gently
quietly
so I could stand right next to Tam,
arm in the air
waiting for the ball.
I would walk up to her,
walk around her,
look at her long legs
so muscle-y.
Look at her face,
so concentrate-y.
I would stare in her eyes,
memorize their flecks
of black and brown
and gray.
I would maybe push a curl
out of her face,
tuck it back under her headband.
I might leave my hand on her face
for just a second,
to feel how warm her cheeks can be,
and then I’d go back
back
back.
SNAP.
And no one would know
I’d left my seat.
TAM
I waited for her.
For them.
After the game.
I wanted to show her
I wore the bracelet she made
for good luck,
and it worked!
We won anyway,
despite me missing three points
THREE POINTS
and not getting my head in the game.
I waited for her.
For them.
After the game.
But they didn’t stay.
They disappeared.
And I didn’t get to find out
who that was with Kate.
I didn’t find out
that other girl’s name.
Kate
Can we stop for a milkshake, Jill?
Before I go home?
Sure, kiddo.
Can you tell me about where you’ve been?
For so long?
Sure, kiddo.
Can you tell me why you’re back?
And what your plans are?
Sure, kiddo.
Maybe I could ask you
some questions, too?
If I can get a word in?
Sure, kiddo.
Kate
Ships as big as cities,
traveling all over the world,
hard work,
good friends,
training.
Jill tells me about the past four years
as I drink my milkshake.
I know I was the one who asked her.
But I can’t concentrate.
All I keep thinking about is,
if I really could freeze everyone,
have Tam all to myself,
what would that mean?
How would I feel?
Our pinkies catch,
the words come out before I can think,
interrupting Jill.
Hmm? What?
Grasp by grasp.
We never talk about it.
We never say,
hey,
are we holding hands?
or, What is happening?
but it’s always the same.
Her pinkie finds mine,
or mine finds hers
whenever we walk sigh by sigh
I mean
my cheeks burn
side by side.
Kate
You and Tam, you mean?
My heart pounds.
What am I doing?
What am I saying?
I stare so hard at my milkshake,
I think the glass might shatter.
Yes.
Does it bother you?
That you hold hands?
Or does it bother you
that you never talk about it?
Both?
I still can’t look up.
My hands are frozen on my milkshake,
but I can’t let go.
My traitorous hands.
My deviant pinkies.
I’m guessing
just guessing . . .
you haven’t talked to Mom?
About this?
My laugh is a short burst,
a throat fart.
What do you think?
Especially after the
flour fiasco,
especially if I really want to
quit trying to be captain.
WWMT, Jill?
What
Would
Mom
Think?
Maybe she’ll surprise you.
She’ll say I’m distracted,
I need a better friend,
she’ll ask about Becca . . .
ugh.
Maybe just try talking to her.
I’d like to point out
this is pretty bold advice
from someone who joined the Navy
to avoid talking to Mom,
but I don’t.
TAM
It’s probably too late,
but I’m going to do it anyway.
I sneak down the hall,
in the dark
to the kitchen
to find my phone
that Mom confiscates at night.
If she catches me
she’ll be
so bummed, Tam,
just really bummed.
Phones steal your soul,
and nighttime is for
replenishing your soul.
Blah blah blah.
Are you awake?
I text.
My heart pounds
as I slide to the kitchen floor,
hiding.
Sorry it’s so late.
I text.
I wait.
Nothing.
It’s probably too late.
Then!
dot dot dot
Hi
Hi
I saw you at the game tonight
You were great!
(as usual)
I totally was not.
I got distracted.
I
I think about my next words.
What exactly to say.
Maybe just . . .
Oh yeah btw,
who was that girl with you?
That’s my sister, Jill!
I thought she’d like to see a game.
Her sister!
Of course!
My head knocks back
against the countertop,
my neck suddenly loose
with relief.
I didn’t even know it was tied up in knots
until it wasn’t anymore.
Ouch.
Oh! Cool,
I text.
You should’ve said Hi.
I know. I’m sorry.
We had to run.
I definitely will next time.
I stare at the smiley face,
burn it into my brain.
There’s so much more
I’d like to ask
but to do that,
I have to be alive
and I won’t be
if Mom catches me
so I write . . .
Well, anyway.
I just wanted to say Hi.
And goodbye.
Hi and goodbye!
I rub my head where I bonked it,
and I take a deep breath—
maybe the first deep breath I’ve taken
all night.
Kate
Mom was embarrassed when Coach called
to apologize about the rogue mascot,
to say how well I’ve been doing,
how the squad is pleased
I’ve decided to be the Falcon
for a little while longer.
Mom thinks we should:
call Coach back
set up a meeting
discuss my cheering
and put this Falcon thing
behind us.
Because you love cheering,
Katherine.
You always have.
Don’t settle for being regular
when you know you can be better.
Kate
I look at the torn-up floor,
the living room reborn.
I feel like, inside,