by K. A. Holt
my guts are the same.
I’m breaking apart,
changing,
and it’s happening faster
every day.
I mean, Mom’s right.
I do love cheering.
It’s a constant.
A bond.
Mom was cheer captain
when she was my age,
then a legend through college, and
she always says
this is her gift to me:
my athletic ability,
my leadership,
my cheering.
I don’t know.
Maybe she’s right.
I’ve worked hard to be captain,
to be on the right track.
It’s super dumb to quit all of that
just to fight with a chicken.
Except. Except.
Who am I right now?
I mean, really?
Mom thinks she knows,
but how can she if I don’t?
I look at the floor.
Yep, just like my guts.
Torn to bits.
A mess of shreds.
I should listen to Mom, right?
She always knows best.
And yet . . .
my torn-up guts are whispering to me,
calling my name.
I can tell it’s something big,
something important
I just can’t quite understand
what they’re trying to say.
TAM
Kate breezes by,
waves,
heads to her locker.
Becca yells,
Yearbook!
And flash, flash
she’s like Kate’s own personal
paparazzi.
It makes me think
that last year,
if I’d seen this little scene,
Levi and I
would have made so many jokes.
But now . . .
I watch from over here
and it’s all in slo-mo
and my heart pounds this crooked beat
as I think:
If you lived your whole life
never feeling your heartbeat
you wouldn’t miss it, right?
You’d just do homework
watch TV
sleep
and that would be that.
You can’t miss something you don’t know.
But then
what if one day
you woke up and
ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump
there it was?
You’d maybe grab your chest in surprise:
ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump
ba-bump ba-bump ba-bump.
Your heartbeat would get faster,
your eyes might go wide,
and finally, finally
you’d know what it feels like
to be alive inside.
This is how I feel every day.
Every day.
When Kate walks by.
Yearbook!
Becca yells
and I smile
at the flash flash flash
matching my heartbeat
that was missing
until now.
Kate
Black splotches in my eyes
from Becca’s camera
make me blink
and as I blink
I see a sign
taped to the wall.
Student council elections
coming up soon.
And.
Hmm.
THAT’s an idea.
If I decide to stay being the mascot . . .
if Coach is cool with that . . .
and if I give up the captain plan,
Mom will be totally mad.
But.
But.
If I do something more . . .
do something better . . .
I can show Mom.
I can go even bigger.
What if I run for class president?
Student Council won’t know what hit them.
Mascot and president.
Best of both worlds.
Mom will see the truth.
I’m better than normal.
More than regular.
I’m queen of the school.
TAM
Hello, little pinkie.
How are you today?
Have you missed me
since yesterday?
My voice is high-pitched,
silly,
like a Muppet
talking quietly
out of the side of my mouth.
Kate looks up at me,
even with her head pointed down.
She wiggles her pinkie
before she curls it around
mine and says
in her own Muppet voice,
I had little pinkie dreams
all last night
about finding you today
and holding you tight.
We are such huge dorks.
Big, giant goobers
as we burst out laughing,
swinging arms in the hall
and Muppet-ing our way to class
in our own goofy bubble.
Kate
TAM
You’ll get us in trouble.
For passing notes?
No one cares.
Tell me more about Jill.
She’s my sister.
Duh.
And she’s in the Navy.
Was in the Navy.
She’s out now.
Back home.
Well, not home home.
But here.
In town.
Why not home home?
Long story.
We have 53 minutes of
geography left.
Ha.
Really, though.
Why not home?
She and Mom don’t get along.
Mom thought Jill should go to college.
Jill wanted to see the world.
Mom thought Jill had bigger potential.
All they did was fight.
So Jill left.
And it’s been four years.
She never wrote or visited.
Until now.
Wow.
I know.
And you weren’t mad?
I was at first.
But mostly I just missed her.
I would’ve been mad.
Well, I can kind of understand.
Mom is a lot
sometimes.
I like your shirt today.
Thanks.
I like your headband.
Thanks.
It matches this bracelet
some girl gave me.
Some girl, huh?
Some girl.
Kate
The squad is extra noisy today.
MDOMG!
The concert is so soon!
Well, not soon.
But soon-ish!
What are we going to wear?
Kate! What should we wear?
Hmm?
Um. To the concert.
On your birthday . . .
Hello, space cadet.
But that’s so far away.
That’s what I said!
It’s not that far away.
She never pays attention anymore.
Earth to Kate!
Do we have to decide now?
What to wear, I mean?
UM, WHO ARE YOU?
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO KATE?
MDOMG.
The strange Kate is laughing.
She’s a little familiar now.
Someone pull her ponytail.
See if she yells!
Fine. Fine. Fine.
Why don’t you all come over?
We can figure out a plan.
Make T-shirts or something?
Yeah?
The squad disper
ses,
chattering down the hall
and I don’t know what it is . . .
the mascot stuff?
Tam’s pinkies?
Jill?
I’m feeling more and more . . .
apart from the squad somehow.
Kate
I imagine Mom
at the dining room table
fingernails tapping
clacking
like they always do.
First I’ll tell her about the squad,
the T-shirts,
she’ll like that plan.
Then maybe we can talk strategy.
Mascot.
President.
Definitely not being captain,
but also definitely
not being regular.
And I can slip in the pinkies,
talk about Tam,
and how we’re friends now,
and . . .
I imagine Mom’s nails clicking faster,
her mouth in a line.
I imagine her head shaking,
matching the clacking,
and
ugh
It’s all just . . .
too much.
Maybe . . .
maybe I’ll leave it with the T-shirts.
For now.
No mascot stuff yet.
No president stuff yet.
Just one thing at a time.
But!
Maybe Tam can come make a shirt, too.
Then Mom will see we’re all friends:
Me
and Tam
and the squad
and then one day it’ll be easier
to talk to Mom like Jill said,
about the pinkies
and what that might mean
(if it means anything).
Yeah.
T-shirts now.
Mascot later.
Then pinkies.
Maybe.
One day.
Soon?
TAM
Shortstack’s been out of school
for at least a couple of days.
(Is it bad I don’t know exactly
how long
it’s been?)
(Is it bad that I only really noticed
today
that’s he’s been somewhere . . .
not here?)
I should go check on him,
make sure
he’s breathin’ easy.
And I will.
I’ll go by after school.
Except.
I was going to see if Kate
wanted to hang out,
do some homework,
maybe
link a pinkie
or two.
Kate
One little text.
That’s all it takes.
Hey, Mom,
can the squad come over?
Make shirts?
For the concert?
Great!
she says.
And I wonder,
just for a second,
if maybe ALL our conversations
should be texting
because it’s always somehow
so much easier.
Kate
TAM
Sooooo, I know my mom scares you.
Almost as much as that gross
sandwich you’re eating.
Shut up.
Hummus is delicious.
Anyway.
The squad is coming over
to make shirts.
And you
should come make one, too.
The squad?
Shirts?
For MisDirection.
MDOMG?!?!?!
Come on.
Don’t make that face.
Why shirts?
So we’ll stand out at the show.
So maybe the guys will see us.
And maybe they’ll notice . . .
What?
Us!
And then what?
I . . .
I don’t know . . .
I hadn’t thought that far . . .
You’re such a goof.
What!
Whaaaaat?
I don’t sound like that.
Yes, you do.
Are you coming to make shirts or not?
It’ll be good for Mom to see you again,
for you to jump back on the horse.
Do you really want me to?
Yes, Tam, of course.
I absolutely do.
I can even probably get you a ticket to the show
if you want me to.
Let’s not go crazy.
Deal.
Deal.
TAM
When someone sings
and their voice wobbles,
warbles,
goes off key . . .
that’s what it’s like right now,
me looking at me.
My reflection
in Frankie’s pond,
my face,
warbling
up at me.
Who is that girl?
I thought I knew her,
but now I’m not so sure.
She’s about to go make a T-shirt
for some boy band concert,
with a bunch of girls
she doesn’t really know.
And she hates that band.
Like really a lot.
Their songs about love
and heart eyes
make no sense at all.
Plus Kate’s mom will be there,
and when she sees the warbling face
of the girl in the pond
she’s not going to like it,
not after last time.
I drop a rock in the pond,
watch as my wobbling face
turns to tiny waves,
ripples out,
disappears.
You’re quiet today.
Frankie’s shoulder knocks mine,
shoots a little energy into my arm.
My wobbling stops for a second.
I take a deep breath.
It’s just a dumb shirt.
Just some girls hanging out.
No big deal.
Whatever.
This will be totally fine.
Alex
Alyx
Alexx
An experiment.
So grand.
So bold.
Mixing Redwood and the squad.
So bold.
So grand.
Will it work?
We do not know!
So bold.
So grand.
Let’s watch and find out.
So grand.
So bold.
Kate
I stare at MisDirection
staring back at me.
Smooth faces.
Shining eyes.
Big smiles.
Except for Ben
the bad boy
who broods.
I stare at them and wait.
Should my heart beat faster?
Should my stomach twist?
Maybe if I stare longer
I’ll understand.
Maybe if I keep faking it,
going all silly and giggly,
like Becca and the girls,
maybe I’ll get it.
Maybe one day
my boy-crazy switch
will get flipped.
But right now
I stare,
waiting for something,
anything,
to happen,
and
well
nothing does.
My switch seems . . .
permanently off.
TAM
She keeps looking at that poster
like maybe it will come alive,
maybe the boys will dive
into her room
zoom
her into their
arms,
dance her
to the stars.
She stares at it and stares at it,
until I have to look away
because
dude
what’s so great
about boys in a band?
What’s so great
about their faces
looking so fake?
But she keeps looking at them
like they have the answers
to some great mystery,
like they
are the answers
to all the questions
in the universe.
TAM
Puffy paints
T-shirt pens
giggling
giggling
giggling
Who is the cutest?
Joe
Pete
Ben
Max
giggling
giggling
giggling
and Kate giggles along with them
and I don’t know why I think that’s weird
because she IS one of them.
She’s like, their leader, even.