She shrugged. “Nothing changes. Thanks for listening to me, though. We’re neighbors, aren’t we?”
I nodded. “I think we live about two blocks apart.”
“Are you friends with Jaime?” Mary mopped her face, drying the last of her tears.
“Sort of. We met when Pete O’Reilly and I dated for a while.”
“That’s right, but then you were with Alec Mays, right?”
Ugh. “Unfortunately. I should have stayed with Pete.”
“I can relate. Jake’s not the guy for me, either—and probably never will be. He just uses me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Like I would have a clue.
She laughed suddenly. “He won’t get anywhere tonight.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s after Sabrina Jackson.”
“The one with the really tight pants?”
Mary smirked. “That’s the one, and her pants are a fortress. She can barely wriggle them on, but no one, and I mean no one, gets them off. She’s the biggest tease at Skyline.”
I couldn’t help but smile, and even though I didn’t know Mary from Adam, I was drawn to her side. Good luck, Jake!
Jaime entered the dining room and crashed into the wall, her birthday buzz obvious. She burst out laughing and we joined in. Her eyes shone brightly, her cheeks stained with a slight flush. The alcohol high accentuated her looks.
“Mary, are you crying?” Jaime sounded disgusted.
“Not anymore.”
“You better not cry one tear over that jerk of all jerks.” Her harsh tone startled me.
“I’m not.”
Jaime turned to me. “Was she bawling over Jake?”
I fumbled, the moment awkward. “Um…well—”
“I knew it!” she snapped.
“He’s all over Sabrina,” Mary confessed. “And it may be a dead end, but it still bothers me.”
Jaime guffawed. “Jake will be Jack by the end of the night, as in jack-yourself-off.” She laughed loudly at her own joke and directed her attention to me. “You talk to Pete yet?”
“We ran into each other at the keg. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me in months.”
“Was he nice?”
“Amazingly, yes. He seemed surprised to see me.”
“Blame Reese. He thought it would be good for you two to hook up again.”
Now I understood Pete’s earlier comment. “I doubt that’s in the cards. He made it pretty clear he never wanted to have anything to do with me ever again.”
Jaime humphed. “And you believe him? Guys are so stupid. He still likes you.”
He does? “How do you know?”
She shrugged. “I just do.”
“You made a cute couple,” added Mary.
“Trust me. You should give it another try,” Jaime said.
“Who made a cute couple?” Steve said, eavesdropping in the hallway.
Jaime pointed at me. “Pete and Anna.”
“I might steal her first.” He winked at me. “Or you,” he told Jaime.
She laughed and threw her arm around him. “You are kind of handsome.”
I excused myself to revisit the keg, mulling over what Jaime said about Pete still liking me as I made my way through the crowded house. How could she be so sure? She couldn’t. No matter, I had sworn off men anyway.
I found Jim Ryder pumping his cup full of beer. He paused to fill mine. Jim was one of the few boys our age with a shave-worthy mustache and real sideburns. Friends since third grade, I never scrutinized him the way I would a prospect, but his rugged looks and plain decency stood out.
“How gentlemanly of you.”
“You got it, Paisano. Anytime.”
I smiled at his familiar greeting. “Having fun tonight?”
“Always. Did you see Pete?”
“That’s becoming a popular question.”
He laughed. “Cut him some slack, Anna. He’s a sarcastic son of a bitch but a nice guy.”
“I have no problem with him. I think it’s the other way around.”
“He’ll come around. He’d be an idiot not to.”
“What about you. Are you seeing anyone?”
“This stud has got a little something going with Lindsey Mahew. At least I think I do.” We laughed.
I touched my cup to his. “Here’s to figuring it out.”
Michelle and I compared notes when we got home, whispering in my room. We both agreed it was a great party. Pete and I didn’t talk further, but we caught each other staring, which thrilled me. Maybe we could be friendly again. I enjoyed talking with Mary and Jim and even did some headbanging with Tez. He had to name the bands, as I still lacked enough “music education” from Pete to confidently identify rock bands.
Honoring my pledge, I controlled the beer intake, not even getting close to drunk. The best part of the night may have been the absence of the wrenching anxiety following me for so many months. I’d genuinely enjoyed myself.
Michelle talked to Steve, but didn’t pick up a romantic vibe. I told her I suspected he liked Jaime. We both giggled about seeing Jake and Manny’s near-naked hot bods as they exited the hot tub—sheer luck at being in the right place at the right time. We continued our hushed conversation until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer.
For the first time in months, there were no nightmares or wakeful anxious episodes where I studied the digital numbers slowly flipping on my clock—just thick, dreamless blissful sleep.
15
Gimme an A
After a week of Michelle’s incessant pleas, I agreed to try out for the Skyline High cheer squad with her. Some girls dreamed of being a cheerleader, but I had never given it any thought. I wasn’t opposed to it exactly, but it was, like, Hokey City. Katy deemed the whole business idiotic and wouldn’t join us despite Michelle’s efforts.
Twenty-five of us showed up at the meeting for sign-ups, but I only recognized six faces. From that day forward, we reported after school three days a week to learn two cheers we would perform at our tryout. The seven members of the current squad treated us super nice and exhibited endless patience as coaching ensued.
“Michelle, hold your arms level, like this,” said Tina, one of the cheerleaders. “And watch your fingers. They should be straight and flat.”
I glanced at my friend. No matter how hard she tried, she lacked coordination. Cheerleading required more than jumping around and yelling. It turned out to be way tougher than I’d thought. The practices were hard work, but I caught on fast. I possessed powerful arms and legs, and now they performed on cue, straight and strong with precision. Another bonus: I had inherited the famous booming Trapani voice, resulting in a loud instrument. It shocked me to realize I enjoyed this cheerleading gig after all.
I worried about Michelle. If she didn’t ace her movements, she had no prayer of making the squad, which would devastate her. There were six spots and only two more weeks before tryouts. The seventh slot was for the head cheerleader, but the school voted her in at the end of the year along with class officers.
I adjusted my pink Dolfin shorts, the silky nylon fabric constantly twisted around. They matched my white socks with the rose pom-poms sticking out from my sneakers. I tightened my ponytail and glanced over at the bleachers. An audience had gathered, including a few guys from the soccer team, one of them Pete.
When we finished, I walked over to say hello. Pete and I had exchanged polite greetings and even minor friendly banter ever since Jaime’s party. My comfort level around him increased daily…along with my heart palpitations.
“Hey, rah rah girl,” Tez said.
I rolled my eyes. I did not like this favored nickname for cheerleaders.
“If you make the squad, are you going to cheer for the soccer team?” asked Steve.
“What do you mean if?” said Pete. “Anna’s got nothing to worry about. She’s running circles around those other girls out there.”
My cheeks flamed. Ma
ybe my already-flushed complexion camouflaged it. “I’m happy to come cheer for you guys.”
“They never have,” added Jim.
“Has someone talked to the director about it? I don’t see why we wouldn’t support as many sports as possible.”
Pete pointed to Jim. “We already have our own cheering squad right here.”
Jim elbowed him in the ribs. “That would be team motivator to you, asshole.”
“What a shame practice is over. I was enjoying the view,” said Steve.
I glanced at the nearly three-dozen girls in shorts and tank tops, some bending over collecting their belongings.
“For real,” Jim said wistfully.
I laughed.
“Let’s go smoke one,” Pete said.
My mother waited by the gate. “I gotta go. See ya guys.”
“Keep on kicking ass, Paisano.”
Pete saluted and Steve waved. I smiled and ran off to meet my mom.
That night after doing the dishes, I finished my homework. Pulling out my journal, I flipped on my stomach and stretched out on my bed, propping myself up on my elbows. I intended to write something positive.
Things are looking up. I think I have a chance to make the cheerleading squad. I actually like what I originally thought was a hella moronic idea. The girls teaching us the moves are really sweet, and the closer tryouts come, the more I want to be one of them! Pete gave me the nicest compliment today. He said I was running circles around the other girls!!! That’s the other thing that’s looking up. Pete is being friendly!!! We say hi to each other and even talk a little. And his buddies seem to think he still likes me. He hasn’t made any moves, but maybe that’s true? Maybe we’ll find our way back together? I don’t want to jinx it, but I hope
The phone rang and I answered it mid-sentence.
“Why do you think you’re so good at that?” Speak of the devil. Pete!
I willed my heart to slow down as I sat up, rearranging myself to lean against my pillows. “At what?”
“Cheerleading.” I loved his voice—smooth, mid-toned, teasing.
“I’m not sure. It comes naturally, for being totally unnatural.” Mindlessly, I moved my right arm out and to the left, practicing one of our moves.
“I don’t know. People walk around with their arms straight up in the air all the time, chanting things.”
I laughed. “Right. You might remember, I’m also pretty loud.”
“It’s hard to forget.”
“You really think I’ll make it?”
“Damn sure. I wasn’t kidding earlier. A lot of those girls aren’t getting it.”
“Michelle struggles. She’s just not coordinated.” I pictured her arms flapping around.
“She’s one of the worst.” Pete chuckled.
“Stop laughing. It’s so not funny. She’s going to be hella upset if she doesn’t make the squad.” I wound the phone cord around my finger.
“Anna, she’s not gonna make it.”
I didn’t argue, picturing Michelle’s sad face and pushing the image from my mind.
“What are you doing Friday night?”
Oh my god. Was he asking me out? Stay calm. Breathe.
“Hello?”
Speak, Anna. “Sorry. Um, nothing. Why?”
“A bunch of us are going to see Dawn of the Dead. Want to come?”
I was up and pacing now, my bare feet sinking into the carpet with every step. My Princess phone followed, thanks to an extra long cord. “The zombie movie?”
“None other.”
Although not a fan of flicks featuring the creepy undead, he could ask me to anything and I would say yes. “Okay, but it will probably be stupid.”
“And that’s why we’re going.”
“Can I ask you something?” More pacing. Find the guts, Anna.
“Sure.”
“Are you asking me to go with you, like a date, or just as friends?”
He paused. My heart fluttered erratically. I paced some more, waiting for his response.
“Just friends…but maybe we could be more again. I never stopped liking you.”
My heart filled my throat. He still liked me!
“Cat got your tongue?” He laughed.
“It’s just, you were pretty mean to me for a while, so I’m surprised, that’s all.” And happy, happy, happy!
“You pissed me off. And then you started dating that jerk.”
I sat on bed, the water sloshing underneath me. “You were right about him one hundred percent. More, actually.” I so did not need to think about Alec ever again. A memory flashed of him grinning at me in his room right before he raped me. I shook my head and clenched a fist to dissolve it.
“It took me a while to cool off.”
Deep breath. “And now you are?”
“Totally jake.”
“Jake?”
“That means cool. You familiar with Jake Lamotta?”
“Who?”
Pete sighed out loud. “You’re hopeless. Jake Lamotta was a badass boxer. Known for being good under pressure, people started saying everything was jake. Comprende?”
“I think so. What we were talking about?”
“That everything’s jake between us.”
“That makes me happy,” I said. “And I mean that.”
“I don’t think I could sleep tonight if you were unhappy,” he said with his token sarcasm.
I smiled.
We said goodnight, and I jumped up and galloped around my room. He still liked me! Even though he said we were just friends, he also said maybe we could be more. In my fragile heart, it all rang true. We could be more.
16
Tryouts
The day of cheerleader tryouts arrived. My hands shook as I packed my outfit into my backpack. Paired as tryout partners, Michelle and I purchased matching outfits consisting of white shorts with a red stripe along the sides and a crimson tank top. I zipped my bulging pack closed.
“I’ll be there, honey,” my mom said, pouring herself another cup of coffee. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m nervous. What if I forget the words to my cheer? What if I screw up the moves?” I finished my orange juice, but couldn’t choke down any food.
“You’ll do fine. God will guide you.”
I tapped my foot in a staccato rhythm against the linoleum floor. “I don’t want to look like a lame-o. Half the school will be watching.”
My mother cocked her head and gazed at me adoringly. “You couldn’t look like one if you tried. You’re lovely, dear.”
“You have to say that. You’re my mother.” I rose to put my glass in the dishwasher.
She stood, holding me at arm’s length. “I don’t have to do any such thing. I think you’re special, and you have practiced your heart out. You’re going to be great.”
“That’s what Pete said, too.”
“Maybe that boy is smarter than I thought.”
“Mom!”
“I’m teasing. Go finish getting ready.” She picked up her coffee, and I headed for my room.
“And Anna?”
I turned.
“Knock ’em dead.”
My classes dragged on, and the more I checked the clock, the slower it ticked, I swear. By the time the bell rang at the end of the day, I practically leaped out of my skin. Maybe the adrenaline would work to my advantage and make me jump higher. I changed in the girls’ bathroom and hurried to the auditorium, where students, parents and faculty milled around. Directly below the stage, two long tables with chairs were reserved for the judges, and several rows of seats behind them were roped off, set aside for contestants. I spied Michelle, who motioned to me to join her.
I sat down, rubbernecking as I searched the auditorium for my mom, who waved when our eyes met. Most of the soccer team had also showed up to watch, amping up my stress quotient. Pete gave me a reassuring thumbs-up, and a few of the guys followed suit.
Katy made me jump when she abruptly slid into the chair n
ext to mine.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“I can barely breathe.”
“Me, too,” said Michelle. “I don’t want to mess up.”
“You’re both going to do fine. Try to relax.” She patted our shoulders and left to find a seat.
I welcomed her confidence and fought to believe in it. I forced myself to take ten deep breaths, mentally repeating the word “calm.”
The microphone squealed as Mrs. Hardesty addressed the crowd, welcoming everyone and explaining how the tryouts would be judged and executed. Michelle and I would walk on stage together. She would perform her Hello Cheer first, then me. Immediately following, we’d do one action cheer together—a complicated succession of moves that required us to be in sync, not just physically but vocally. At the end, we could opt to do a series of jumps or gymnastics. I hadn’t aced the splits quite yet, so I planned to do a roundoff into a classic herkie jump.
I half-watched girls perform their cheers, and in between, silently practiced the Hello Cheer.
After being called to the stage halfway through the tryout, Michelle and I whispered good luck to each other and took our places. She performed her initial routine. She didn’t mess up her lines, but her voice wavered and her movements lacked the ideal snappy precision.
Now it was my turn. I stepped forward and put my hands on my hips in the ready formation. I gave the audience my biggest smile and began. My routine flew by in a blur until the end when I belted out, “An-na Tra-pa-ni says hel-lo!” while lunging with one hand extended toward the crowd. Applause and whistles erupted as I repositioned myself to get in line with Michelle.
The head judge nodded, and we performed our joint routine, “We are the Titans.” More comfortable now, I executed the cheer fluidly and with conviction. My voice rang out loud and clear. Being parallel with Michelle, I couldn’t gauge how she fared. We ended to thundering applause, and I did my tumbling moves while Michelle executed a few jumps. The judges leaned together as we exited the stage.
Still several candidates to go, all we could do was wait. With our tryout over, Michelle and I whispered about which girls nailed both routines, but so many delivered a solid performance, I couldn’t imagine how the judges would narrow it down to six. I crossed my fingers I would be among them.
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