by Zoe Evans
Sometimes I like writing his name over and over (like so) just to see what it looks like. Even his name is, like, interesting and cool and different from the other guys’ at our school. Kind of perfect. Just like him. Sigh.
I still can’t believe that Bevan—the same guy I’ve been dreaming about for months—actually asked me out on a date after the last soccer game. (Like, on a real date—not one that happens only in my dreams, and NOT like a study date. An actual, full—fledged “can we check out a movie or something” kind of date.) I almost died, I was so happy. Actually, to be totally honest, I was doing double herkies of joy in my head. It’s too bad that five seconds after I said yes I realized to my own horror that if I ever want to be a Titan, I can’t go near Bevan with a ten—foot pole. Katie will KILL me if I start dating her ex-boyfriend. I wish Jacqui had never told me about Katie’s stupid no-dating-cheerleader-exes rule! It sucks because I really, really, REALLY like him. But as they say in cheer, cupies before cuties.
Luckily, after he asked me out, Bevan went on vacay with his fam for a whole week. But since he’s been back, avoiding him has been REALLY hard. We didn’t decide on an exact day for our “big night out,” so I figure that as long as he can’t talk to me, I’ll never have to FORMALLY turn him down. Good plan, huh?? Lanie’s even helped me escape from his gorgeous clutches a couple of times.
If we would see him coming toward me in the hall, she’d put a really serious look on her face and then shout the words “shoe shopping” to make sure he wouldn’t want to interrupt our “girl talk.” And yesterday, in the lunch line in the caf, she saw him just about to tap my shoulder so she shouted, “Mads! Help! There’s a fly in my tuna!”
“Maddy. Ummmmmm. U there?” he wrote.
For some reason, I didn’t think he would go to the effort of actually trying to contact me outside of school . . . but looky look, there he was. Double ugh. Well, at that point it was too late. He already saw I was online, so it would have been completely loser—y of me to just ignore him. It took me, like, ten years, but I finally clicked the “accept” button on the screen. Then I held my breath and freaked out about what I would say if he mentioned our date.
“Present LOL! Yep, here. What’s up?” I typed back.
“I’m starting 2 think I need 2 change my deodorant,” Bevan typed.
“Ahahah, yep, u smell ,” I wrote back finally.
“Where u been?” he typed.
Ummmm. Avoiding you? It’s a fun game we play. Aren’t you having fun??? Grrr.
“Just around. Lots of Grizzlies stuff going on.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. But I can’t really chat now, either. Dinnertime,” I typed.
I cringed. He must think I’m the weirdest person alive. One minute (or one week) ago I was practically speechless in his presence. The next I’m all, “Yeah. Soooo busy. Ya know. Things to do.” Like I’m so cool.
“K. U busy tom?” he wrote.
AHHHHHHHH!
“Yah, unforch. Big day @ practice.” (Which was kinda true.) “Grizzlies r going w Titans 2 Regionals!”
“Nice!!!”
“I gotta go tho .”
“Kkk talk 2 u l8r.”
I signed off chat as fast as possible. How much longer will I be able to keep this whole hiding-from-Bevan thing going? How do you avoid the cutest guy in school—especially when he’s practically chasing you down? (Especially when it’s so COMPLETELY amazing that he’s chasing you, and instead of avoiding it, you’d much rather be screaming it from the mountaintops???!!) Ok. I need to stop stressing about this. But sometimes life is so unfair!!!
Ruh-roh! Never a dull moment in Grizzly World. At the beginning of practice, Mom told everyone about how she had gotten permission from the school for our team to go along to the Regional Qualifier with the Titans.
“You know how important I think it is for you guys to observe amazing routines and stunts so you can aspire to do them yourselves,” said Mom, pacing in front of us during our stretches. “And until now, you’ve mainly only gotten to see the Titans on their home court. This upcoming competition is pretty major.” She looked each one of us in the eye. “We’re going to go there, support our fellow cheerleaders, and also learn about what it takes to compete against awesome cheerleaders from all over our area. And it will be fun!” She pumped a fist in the air.
Ian raised his hand and waved it around. “Um, Coach Carolyn?”
“Ian, we’re not in a classroom. But yes?”
“I think it’s really cool that you planned this trip for us and everything. But what does this trip actually have to do with us? Like, what’s in it for the Grizzlies?”
I could tell my mom was surprised by his bad attitude. She’s not used to people who are all about themselves. Carolyn Hays’s middle name is Teamwork. I think that’s what made her such a good cheerleader back in the day. Well, that and her ridiculous flexibility and flyer skills.
“Well, you’re going to get to see what a real competition is like,” replied Mom. “Aren’t you tired of watching Bring It On on TV? Now you can see it for real!”
Unfortunately, no one was buying into Mom’s enthusiasm.
“A trip is fine, but what I want to know is, when do we get to cheer at another, like, soccer game? Or better, a basketball game!” said Matt.
“Yeah!” said Ian, giving Matt a high five.
Jacqui and I exchanged troubled looks. What had gotten into everyone?
Katarina, who had bent herself into a very uncomfortable—looking pretzel, agreed with Ian and Matt. “Yeah, ve vant competitive too. Vy aren’t ve making zee competing?” She pouted. But it was kind of hard to be angry at her whining, with her legs all twisted behind her ears like that.
“Katarina, stop that—you look like that Exorcist girl,” said Matt.
“Vat iz wrong vit being an exercise girl? I like exercise,” said Katarina, missing the joke. Clearly she wasn’t familiar with American horror movies.
Even Tabitha Sue giggled.
“Come on, guys, we’ll get to cheer at another game soon,” I said, trying to take the pressure off Mom.
“Really? When?” asked Jared, his hands on his hips.
“I-I-I don’t know,” I stammered. “Actually, I do,” I lied. “When we’re ready, which we’re not . . . yet.” I tried to smile confidently.
All through practice I couldn’t stop thinking about how my teammates have a good point. They need some competition to keep their spirits up. Without a goal to achieve, what’s the point in working so hard every day for hours after school? But for them to ever compete, they’ll have to really get better. Not just be able to do some good cartwheels and layouts, but like, actually do some stunts. And if they do . . . maybe the Grizzlies can do a statewide cheer competition for small novice teams? That can’t be that SO out of the question for us. One thing’s for sure: The Grizzlies will never get better if their hearts aren’t in the sport. So how could I raise everyone’s spirits and at the same time make them better cheerleaders?
Blam! Suddenly it hit me. This old book called The Spirit Rules that I’d heard about. It’s practically a Titan legacy handed down from cheerleader to cheerleader. The Spirit Rules is totally on the DL, but my mom told me about it a while back and Jacqui even mentioned it a few weeks ago. Only Titans are allowed to own their own copies. But Jacqui once let it slip that a couple of years ago the Titans all got new editions and the school asked them to donate one of their older editions to our school library. They keep it hush—hush because they don’t want other teams to find out about it.
So after practice I headed over to the library. The last time I was in the library, I’d been researching the Salem witch trials, but I doubted The Spirit Rules would be anywhere near the witch section. On the other hand, the title did have the word “Spirit” in it. . . .
Miss Doverly, the head librarian, is really pretty for a librarian. You totally wouldn’t expect her to be working all alone with a bunch of dusty old books and o
verachieving kids. She kind of reminds me of Lanie, but without all the snark. I sometimes wonder if she’s, like, secretly some kind of CIA agent and this is her cover.
“Hey, Miss Doverly? Where would I find nonfiction books about sports?”
She looked at me kind of like, “Hey, nice to see you round these parts.” Guess I don’t come to the library as often as I should. (Note to self: Frequenting the library would apparently make not only your father, but your librarian VERY happy.) She pointed me down a long hallway, then to the left and up some stairs. Basically, the no-man’s-land of our library. I wonder if the janitor even bothers vacuuming this area. The floor creaked with each step I took toward the “S” bookshelf.
I almost completely missed it at first. It was hidden in between two enormous books about skiing. Like, why would we need books about skiing in Port Angeles, Washington? I didn’t even know what snow looked like until I was twelve and Dad took me to Colorado to learn how to snowboard (which, except for the free s’mores at the lodge, was an absolute disaster). The copyright page of The Spirit Rules was ripped out and the pages were a bit yellowed—it looked like it was first printed back when Mom was a Titan. The jacket even had our school colors: red, white, and blue. I opened it to a random page and saw a drawing of one of the famous Titan double Swedish falls pyramids. This must be where they learned some of their original tricks! There’s a chapter called “Making the Team,” which is all about what skills you need before even considering trying to become a cheerleader. As I read it I was thinking, “OMG! Some of these tips will probably help the Grizzlies a ton!” Another chapter called “Not So Routine!” breaks down the basics of what a good routine has in it and what judges usually look for at competitions. In each chapter there are different “spirit rules,” like “Set Goals and Accomplish Them.” No wonder the Titans live for this book (and they say cheerleaders don’t study!). Even though it’s practically ancient (sorry, Mom, but twenty years ago is totally ancient history nowadays . . .), The Spirit Rules has it all. I was dying to get home, crash onto my bed, and tear through this book so I could start using it to the team’s advantage. If The Spirit Rules can’t help my team’s attitude problem, nothing can.
When I went to check out the book, Miss Doverly looked at it appreciatively. Weird.
“Ah, yes,” she said, taking out the Port Angeles library card inside and stamping it with a due date. “Haven’t seen this one taken out in a while. Or maybe-” She went to look at the last date the book had been checked out, and I saw that there actually wasn’t a date there. Heh. Guess the Titans do a good job of keeping the book a secret.
“Well, the Titans have their own copy,” I said. “So I doubt they would check this one out.”
“That makes you the first Grizzly to see it, then, right?” She winked.
Which was kind of cool. A) She actually knows I’m a Grizzly! B) She knows who the Grizzlies are! Maybe if the Grizzlies get a dose of the advice the Titans have been following since forever, we’ll become a bit more like the Titans in other ways.
I quickly texted Jacqui: “Got sumthin to show u tom.”
“What???” she texted back.
“A surprise. But u will likkkke it!”
“K. Excited!”
At home the kitchen smelled like lemons and fried bread crumbs. Yum—chicken cutlets! After I set the table, I showed Mom my big find.
“Where did you get this?” Mom said with wonder in her voice, touching the worn paper delicately.
“There’s this magical, secret place that cheerleaders hardly ever go. It’s called the li-bra-ry,” I joked.
Mom laughed. “What I mean is, this book was a big Titan secret when I was a cheerleader. And I didn’t realize that it was actually available to the masses.”
“Do you think it can help us?” I asked, chewing my lip nervously. I served myself some salad and waited for her to answer.
“I am worried a bit about what everyone said today. I thought they’d be excited about the trip. But I guess becoming better at the sport isn’t enough for them.” She lowered her sea-foam-colored eyes from my gaze. For a moment, she looked really sad. Sometimes I forget how much the Grizzlies mean to her.
“Yeah, I didn’t realize the team was so unhappy either,” I agreed. Then I thought about one of the rules that I read in the book when I was looking through it in the library. “I think we need to give them a goal.”
“You know, I think you’re onto something, Madison. Let’s think about it. A goal for the Grizzlies!” she singsonged. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Ok, so she took it too far with that, as usual. She’s probably picturing it on T—shirts by now.
LAME! But already I could tell that Mom’s mood was getting brighter. She loves nothing more than turning the wheels in her head around and around on something cheer related.
Before I went up to my room, she lightly touched my arm. “I’m proud of you, Madington. You’re showing real initiative, trying to find a creative way to solve your team’s problem.” She nodded toward the book in my hands. “And that book is a great start.”
Later on I called Lanes.
“You? At the library?” she asked. “Were they having a cheer bake sale?”
“Um, excuse you, no,” I huffed. “I was checking out a book.”
“Let me guess. It has something to do with cheerleading or fashion design?”
“Wow, Lanes, give me zero credit for my intellectual interests, why don’t you? But, actually, yeah,” I admitted. “It is a cheer book. But it’s really cool! It’s just what Jacqui and I need to get our team hyped about, you know, cheering at the uncoolest games on the planet.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“And also, it will make the team even more excited about cheering on the Titans at the Regional Qualifier we’re going to at the end of the month. Which-Ohmigod! I didn’t even tell you about it yet!”
“Wait-you guys are going to go with the Titans? Like, on one of their overnight competitions? Whoa. That’s a pretty big deal.”
“Well, you know my mom and her ‘watch and learn’ policy. She wants us to see what a real competition is like.”
“Does that mean more SuperBoy fund—raising for Evan and me?” asked Lanie, a slight sense of dread in her voice. I can’t blame her for being worried—it was a TON of work for her and Evan last time around.
“Nah, we’re gonna go the old—fashioned route, like a car wash or bake sale. We need to involve the team more in the fund-raising. Again, the whole lack-of-spirit thing.”
“Ah. Gotcha.”
I didn’t want to talk too long to Lanes because I have homework to do—as in, reading The Spirit Rules . I also have SCHOOL homework to do . . . but in weighing my priorities, I think that can wait till tomorrow morning before class.
But before I can climb into my comfy pj’s with the bunnies on them (so chic! JK), I HAVE to check my computer to see if Bevan tried to chat with me, even though I know it would be awkward. Because even if a girl isn’t allowed to talk to the guy she likes, she’s allowed to WANT him to want to talk to her, right? Grrr. No, that’s not really fair, is it? I wonder what The Spirit Rules says about situations like this. Probably that I need to have a goal re: Bevan, just like I need to have one for the Grizzlies. Ok, so what’s my goal when it comes to Bevan Ramsey? If I don’t know what it is, how can I “accomplish it”?
Sigh. Just checked. No chat from Bevan.
Boo hoo.
Lanes came up to me first thing this morning before class and told me she had this “epiphany” after we spoke about the competition last night. I should have known this was not going to be good. The last time Lanie had an “epiphany” I ended up with a haircut that looked like a mullet and took me almost two years to grow back.
“Tell me everything you know about Regional Qualifier competitions,” she said, matching my pace as I hurried to class. I’d just finished up the homework I’d put off doing the night before.
“Ok, now you have me bugging out,” I said.
“I need to know,” said Lanie, her hands on her hips.
Seeing Lanie with her fishnet tights and fake, blue—streaked hair saying the word “Regional” made me want to laugh out loud. “Just why are you so excited about something related to cheer?”
“Since it makes the peeerrrfect story for my next article for the Daily Angeles!” Lanie declared proudly.
(Side note: The Daily Angeles is our school newspaper. It used to be really lame, but then Lanie signed up and took on a leadership role, switching out the boring articles with more exciting ones and adding new columns, like movie and music reviews, blogs to follow, and a special scandal section. Now it’s actually kinda juicy . . . go, Lanie!!)
With all the stuff that’s been going on in my life—the Grizzlies, the uniforms for the Titans, and Bevan—I completely forgot about Lanie’s article. Awesome BFF I am! She’s been agonizing for practically two weeks over what to write. She knew she wanted to do some kind of “expose’ “ but didn’t know what to do it about.
We stopped right outside Room 302, where I had English in T minus two minutes.
“So, you want to do an expose’ on cheerleading?”
I have to admit, I’m a little worried about this one.
“Not the way you think,” said Lanie, raising her forefinger in protest. “I was doing some asking around, and I found out that the boys’ lacrosse team wasn’t allowed to go to last year’s away sectionals game because the school said they didn’t have the funding and the team couldn’t raise enough money on their own.”
“And?”
“And,” Lanie said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “I also discovered that the amount of money that each sports team gets from Port Angeles isn’t exactly what you call even.” She waited for a few people to file past us into class before continuing. “Mads, the Titans are getting way more cashola than anyone else.”