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Redwood and Ponytail

Page 10

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!
r />   Good night, Kate.

  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,

 

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