Stacey and the Cheerleaders

by Ann M. Martin

  “Uh, a vegetable soup and a small salad,” I said. “Oil and vinegar on the side.”

  “I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger,” Robert ordered.

  The waiter nodded and whisked away the menus.

  “I thought you ate,” I whispered, trying to hold back a giggle.

  “I did,” Robert replied. “That’s why I didn’t order fries.”

  To him, this made perfect sense.

  Boys.

  We talked and talked. I felt so at ease with Robert. I even found the nerve to tell him the saga of The Kink. He thought it was pretty funny. He was funny, too. And charming and smart — and a great listener.

  I thought we’d never run out of things to say. But almost a half hour later I realized we’d missed one incredibly important topic — basketball.

  I felt so rude for not bringing it up. “So,” I said, “how does it feel to be on a first-place team?”

  I figured he’d light up, the way RJ had when I’d mentioned basketball to him. But Robert grew very quiet and thoughtful.

  “I like it,” he said, nodding. “I mean, I like the playing part of it. I’ve liked basketball since I was a kid.”

  “Well, what other part is there?” I asked.

  “You know, the status stuff.”

  I looked at him blankly. “Meaning what?”

  He seemed disappointed in my reaction. “How can I say this. Do you know Jason Fox?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “Well, he’s a very smart guy, and pretty friendly. But have you ever noticed the way he acts when he’s around the team and the cheerleaders?”

  I shrugged. “Kind of excited.” I didn’t want to say dorky.

  “He worships us. He thinks we walk on water. Some of the guys really take advantage of him. He gives his social studies homework to a guy on our team — I won’t mention any names — and the guy just copies it. You know, maybe changes a word here and there. He doesn’t give Jason anything in return — but it makes Jason feel so cool. He can’t wait to hand it over.”

  “Wow.” That was an awful situation, but I wasn’t sure what Robert was getting at.

  “Here’s another thing,” he added. “I’m terrible in English. I try to read all the assignments, but nothing seems to stay in my head. Last week in class we had to write a short essay on a book, and I hadn’t even read past the first chapter. I got a C on it.”

  “Well, that’s great! You must be smarter than you think.”

  Robert shook his head. “All I wrote on my paper was, ‘I could not finish this book.’ ”

  “What?”

  “Uh-huh. On the bottom, the teacher wrote, ‘If I’d had to play Lawrenceville, I’d have the same problem. Meet me after school some day this week and we’ll chat about the book.’ Now, George Burke, who sits next to me, had read it — and loved it. He wrote on both sides of the paper. The teacher’s comment was something like, ‘Shows good retention but shallow understanding.’ He got a C-minus.”

  “But — that’s not fair.”

  “I know.” Robert sat back in his chair with a pained look. “It’s so weird. I mean, yes, we’re a good team. We’ll probably win the division and all. But people treat us differently — us and the cheerleaders. Everyone’s willing to bend the rules for us. Well, not everyone. Some teachers and students treat us like normal kids. But if I wanted to cut a class, and my English teacher knew I was in school, no problem. Some of the guys do it all the time. The girls, too.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “And they all seem like such nice people.”

  “Sometimes they are,” Robert replied. “But they can be pretty fickle, you know. That’s what happens when you’re used to having your way all the time. You get spoiled, then you start not thinking about other people’s feelings.”

  “I’m glad you’re not like that, Robert.”

  Robert began cutting his burger in half. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so negative.”

  We sat quietly for a moment, eating our food. Finally I said, “You know, I’m really glad you told me this stuff. If I become a cheerleader, I’m going to work hard not to take advantage of things.”

  Robert’s eyes widened. “You’re trying out?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Hey, that’s fantastic. I hope you make it. Do the other girls know?”

  “So far, Sheila, Penny, Darcy, Margie, and Corinne do.”

  “Uh-oh. Does Corinne know we’re going out?”

  My heart did a flip-flop. “Maybe. Why? Are you …”

  Robert shook his head. “No! No. We went out once or twice. It was okay, but nothing special. Not like this.”

  Boy, did he know what to say to a girl.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “I guess she thought we were, you know, going steady or something. She still calls me practically every day. I don’t lead her on, because I’m not that type, but I’m not mean to her either.” He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “That’s Corinne.”

  You know what? I didn’t blame Corinne at all. I had been with Robert for less than an hour, in a coffee shop with clanking plates and gruff waiters, but I was having one of the nicest nights of my life.

  The only problem was, I didn’t want it to end.

  Mary Anne went to the Kilbournes’ expecting the worst. She was supposed to sit for Tiffany and Maria while Shannon and her mom went to a school concert. At the last minute, Maria had decided to go. (Shannon later told us Maria didn’t care about the concert, she just wanted to get away from her sister.)

  So it was Mary Anne the Meek and Tiffany the Terrible, all alone.

  As the car backed out of the driveway, Mary Anne sat on the living room couch. Tiffany slumped in an armchair and stared out the window.

  “Did you want to go with them, Tiffany?” Mary Anne asked.

  “No way,” Tiffany answered.

  “Um, do you want to go outside?”

  “No!”

  “Okay. I was just asking. I noticed you were looking outside.”

  “Mm.”

  Mary Anne quietly opened her backpack and took out some schoolbooks. She decided to use her sullen-child strategy. She wouldn’t try to make Tiffany laugh or do anything. Mary Anne would just be there. She would be all ears if Tiffany decided she needed someone.

  For a long time, Tiffany just moped around. Mary Anne heard her run up and down the stairs, then open the kitchen cabinets a few times.

  Finally Tiffany came into the living room and sat down on the floor. “I’m bored,” she announced.

  Mary Anne closed her book. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. There’s nothing to do. And you are the most boringest baby-sitter I’ve ever met.”

  I told you Mary Anne is extremely sensitive. But she’s also an incredible baby-sitter. She knew not to take it personally. “I thought you wanted to be left alone,” she said.

  “I did. But I guess I don’t anymore.”

  “Good. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the baby-sitter. You’re supposed to find things for me to do.”

  “I’d be happy to, but you have to tell me what you like. How about board games?”

  “Yuck.”

  “Do you like art?”

  “Double yuck!”

  “Well, you must like something.”

  Tiffany didn’t answer. She looked sort of hurt and distracted.

  Mary Anne sighed. “Tiffany, is something bothering you?”

  Tiffany’s head slumped forward. Her hair fell in front of her face. “I guess,” she muttered.

  “You look sad,” Mary Anne said.

  For a long moment Tiffany said nothing. When she finally did speak, her voice was practically a whisper. “I can’t do art. I can’t do board games. I can’t do anything.”

  “Sure you can,” Mary Anne reassured her. “Kristy mentioned you had a yo-yo —”

  “It was Kristy’s yo-yo,” Tiffany replied. “And I couldn’t even do that. I just wa
tched. I’m so uncoordinated.”

  Mary Anne reached out to her. “I’m sure you’re not.”

  Tiffany lurched up and walked to the window. “I am. Uncoordinated and stupid. I don’t know how to swim, I’m not good in school, I can’t speak any languages —”

  “Those are all things your sisters do.”

  “I know!”

  “Well, sisters are different from each other — different interests, different abilities. Just like other people. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Yeah, except my sisters have all the interests and abilities, and I don’t have any. Shannon’s a genius. She knows everything. She has so many awards, she can’t even find some of them! All the teachers talk about her. It’s ‘Shannon this’ and ‘Shannon that.’ Then they expect me to be the same way, and they always get so disappointed. And now Maria’s bringing home all these dumb trophies. I’m like a freak in this family. I never win awards.”

  Mary Anne’s heart went out to Tiffany. “You sound like you feel pretty lonely.”

  Tiffany’s lower lip quivered. Her eyes filled. “You know, Maria and I used to do stuff together all the time. I guess because Shannon’s so much older, and always so busy. So we kind of stuck together. But now Maria’s just as bad.”

  Mary Anne thought for a moment. Tiffany needed something to take her mind off her sisters. “You know what?” she said finally. “You need a hobby.”

  “Huh?”

  “An interest of your own. Something your sisters don’t necessarily do. I mean, Shannon has school, Maria has swimming — and now we have to find something for Tiffany.”

  Tiffany looked doubtful. “Like what?”

  “That’s for you to decide. I can help you make a list.” Mary Anne pulled a notebook and pen out of her shoulder bag. “Say anything that pops into your mind.”

  “What are the most popular hobbies?”

  “I guess drawing, painting, music, dance….”

  Tiffany hopped onto the couch. “Okay. Those are good. Also, I have a friend who has about a million plants and flowers. And another who collects stamps. And Wendy Kasser plays the piano.”

  “Whoa, slow down.” Mary Anne carefully wrote down the three suggestions, then offered, “There’s also tennis and bird-watching.”

  “Surfing!”

  “Uh, maybe not this time of year. How about snow sculptures?”

  The ideas kept coming. When the list grew to both sides of the page, they stopped. Tiffany held it up excitedly and said, “I’m going to start trying some right now!”

  She ran through the kitchen and down to the basement. Mary Anne heard her clanking around for a few minutes.

  Tiffany came upstairs with an old tennis racket, a book on photography, a blank photo album, a jigsaw puzzle, and a ratty old piano instruction book called Teaching Little Fingers to Play. She plopped everything on the living room floor.

  “Wow!” Mary Anne said. She could hardly believe the change.

  “I know I’ll find a hobby I can beat Shannon and Maria with,” Tiffany squealed. “And there’s so much more stuff down there. Mary Anne, this was the best idea.”

  She ran out of the living room again.

  Mary Anne settled back and pulled out some homework from her bag. She was thrilled. Tiffany would be occupied for awhile. More important, she was happy.

  That was a major triumph.

  “Okay, let’s try it again,” Jessi commanded. “Chassé left, chassé right, step, kick, step, kick. Don’t forget your arms, Stacey — elbows straight up, that’s it, now turn, turn, pump those arms, jump … jump … split!”

  I sank to the ground with a gasp. I clutched the ground for support. My right leg was bent at the knee. My hair was hanging in front of my face. The only thing I could say was, “Ugh.”

  It was Tuesday, one week from tryouts. I’d been practicing with Jessi every day. She had worked out a routine that looked spectacular when she demonstrated it.

  The only problem was, she wasn’t the one trying out. I was.

  And I still wasn’t getting it.

  “That was almost perfect!” Jessi exclaimed. “Except for the final tableau. Remember, it’s like this.”

  She sank into a perfect split, reaching to the sky, her head tilted back with a great big smile.

  I swear that girl must have rubber bands instead of bones.

  “How do you do that?” I asked.

  “The same way you do!” she replied. “Stacey, you look good, I promise. You’re just thinking too much about the routine. Don’t worry, you know it. Just trust your body — and smile!”

  “Right.” I smiled. My left leg barked at me. (Well, that’s what it felt like.)

  I was having second thoughts about trying out. (Can you tell?)

  We worked and worked until I was ready to collapse. Needless to say, that night I slept like a rock.

  The next morning, Wednesday, I literally fell out of bed. My legs did not want to uncurl. I sprawled on the floor and did long, slow, stretching exercises, just the way Jessi had taught me. After a few minutes of that, I was ready for the school day.

  Believe it or not, as I walked to school I felt better than I had for a few days. Over the weekend my legs had been like Jell-O. Now they felt stronger and more solid.

  Guess who was in front of school as I arrived? Robert and Marty.

  They were deep in conversation, but I caught Robert’s eye.

  He stopped in midsentence. “Hi, Stacey!” he said.

  “Hey, Stace,” Marty echoed. With a mischievous smile, he added, “Well, I guess I should leave you guys alone. See you!”

  He loped away from the school with long, gliding steps.

  “Where’s he going?” I asked.

  “Emergency basketball drill,” Robert replied in a flat voice.

  “What?”

  “Well, that was what he told his homeroom teacher, Mr. Blake.” Robert shrugged. “Blake’s a big fan, so he lets Marty go.”

  “But that’s not fair.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s what I was trying to tell Marty.”

  I was shocked. But it made me think of the time Penny and Darcy had met me outside my homeroom. They had giggled about going to a “practice.”

  Sheila hadn’t gone with them. Ms. Levine would never have fallen for that excuse. Obviously Penny and Darcy were luckier.

  “I can’t believe teachers let stuff like this happen,” I said.

  “Mm-hm. It’s as much their fault as the kids’.” Robert sighed and put his arm around me. “But don’t worry. Some of us are okay.”

  I supposed so, but I felt pretty funny about the situation. Robert had told me this kind of stuff happened. Still, seeing it was creepy.

  Robert walked me to my locker. There we met Mary Anne and Logan.

  “Hey, we were just talking about you,” Logan exclaimed.

  “Yeah?” Robert replied.

  “We’re going out Saturday night,” Mary Anne said. “And we thought you might want to make it a double date.”

  I thought it was a great idea. But Robert looked a little disappointed. “Well, I was going to ask Stacey to go out with me on Friday.”

  “You were?” I asked.

  Robert nodded. “Is it okay with you if we go out two nights in a row?”

  “Yes!” I blurted out. “I accept and I accept!”

  * * *

  Boy, was I psyched. That evening before the BSC meeting, I really threw myself into my cheerleading practice.

  That was when I had a breakthrough. I don’t know how it happened. Everything just seemed to click. My kicks were sharp, my steps were on the beat, my arms were energetic. I even managed to smile through most of the routine.

  “Stacey, you are going to blow their socks off!” Jessi said. “I am serious. Socks will be flying all around you. The cheerleaders’ll be running around in their bare feet. That was fantastic!”

  “We’re the best! Stace and Jess! Yay, team!” I shouted. I was fired u
p. For the first time, I knew I had a shot at making the team.

  “You should preview this at the BSC meeting,” Jessi suggested.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No way. Aren’t you proud of it?”

  “Well, yeah, but …”

  “It’ll be like a dress rehearsal. If you can do it well before them, you’ll be great at the tryouts.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I knew you would!” Jessi exclaimed.

  “I said maybe.”

  You know, sometimes I think Jessi is just as bad as Kristy. That evening, at “new business” time in the meeting, Jessi stood up and said, “I move we all go into the Kishis’ backyard at six and watch Stacey’s cheerleading routine!”

  Claudia cracked up. She thought it was a joke. And Kristy got impatient. But Jessi insisted — and that was how I got my first audience. At precisely six, my friends and I ran out to the backyard. I was on.

  How did I do? Not bad, considering I was wearing my down coat and snow boots. Kristy and Claudia still seemed to think I was crazy, but they applauded.

  Good old Mary Anne said, “Stacey, that was great! If you were a cheerleader I wouldn’t be able to watch the game!”

  Now that is a friend.

  * * *

  On Thursday I had my second dress rehearsal. This one was planned. I couldn’t help blabbing to Sheila about my progress, and I asked her if she and a couple of the others would watch my routine in advance.

  I went with her to The Group table during lunch period. She whispered to Penny and Darcy, and the four of us headed for the rear door, which led to the school parking lot.

  “We can’t go out there,” I said. “We’ll get suspended.”

  Penny laughed. “Don’t worry.”

  This teacher, Mr. Schubert, was standing near the door. He began staring at us. Darcy just smiled at him and called out, “Just a little drill review. We’ll be back in two minutes.”

  Mr. Schubert nodded.

  I felt a little nervous about breaking the rules, even though Mr. Schubert had okayed it, so I ran through the routine quickly. By that time I was pretty confident, and I don’t think I made any mistakes.

  The girls’ eyes were wide when I finished. They looked totally surprised. I wasn’t sure whether I’d been better or worse than they had expected.