My eyes kept darting over to The Group’s table. They were jabbering away about something. Jason Fox was standing next to them, probably giving Marty some homework answers.
I looked away. Seeing them only made me feel worse.
The tryouts had been held two days earlier. Results weren’t going to be announced until the next day. I had to walk the same halls as the cheerleaders, go to some of the same classes, eat the same Salisbury steak.
Nervous? Me? Why do you ask?
I tried to analyze Sheila’s tone of voice when she said “Good morning” in homeroom. When Penny smiled at me in the hallway, I was convinced I was going to make the squad. When Darcy seemed hassled after school I was sure I’d been rejected.
Robert was being awfully nice to me. He tried to make me laugh, which always helped — briefly.
My concentration was shot. Three huge pimples had burst onto my face. My stomach was making noises loud enough to stop conversations.
And the worst thing was, everyone else was so calm!
“Shannon told me Tiffany wants to plant ivy along the side of the house,” Claudia was saying. “She even knows the kind. Her mom thinks it’s okay, but her dad says it’ll weaken the walls.”
Tiffany was the hot topic at lunch. Shannon had called Claudia Wednesday night, marveling at the change in her sister.
Bits of Claudia’s conversation were breaking through the mush in my brain. One thing stuck with me, though. Something about choosing a hobby for the right reason. It made such good sense. I don’t know if I would have thought to tell that to Tiffany.
“Stacey? Are you okay?” Mary Anne asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m just thinking about … you know.”
“Hey, don’t worry,” Kristy said. “Just try to forget about it.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I replied.
Mmmmmmrrraawwww….
I had never heard a sound like that escape from my belly. It was like a yawning lion. Maybe the Salisbury steak had woken it up.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Kristy remarked.
Suddenly I wasn’t feeling very well. “Um … I’m going to go to the girls’ room,” I said.
Suddenly my friends looked tense and concerned. “Do you need help?” Claudia asked.
I knew what they were thinking. “It’s not the diabetes. Just an upset stomach.”
I grabbed my shoulder bag and stood up. The girls’ room was across the hall. I rushed inside and closed myself in a stall. I hate hate hate HATE barfing, but I’d rather do it in private if I have to.
I took a few deep breaths. My stomach seemed to be settling. The lion must have shifted and gone back to sleep. I promised myself not to eat any more lunch.
That was when I heard the bathroom door slam open. “Aaagh! I can’t believe you kissed him, right in front of everybody!”
It was Penny’s voice. Laughter bounced off the tile walls. She was with a few other cheerleaders.
The lion stirred.
“Did you see the lipstick on his cheek?” Margie cried.
“No,” Darcy replied, “because his face turned the same color!”
More laughter. Corinne’s voice chanted, “Margie and Jason, Margie and Jason …”
“Oh, for sure, Corinne,” Margie said. “Every day.”
I was petrified. I wanted to leave the stall, but I must have looked terrible. Quickly I pulled a comb out of my shoulder bag. I let out a silent burp, which made me feel much better.
Outside the stall I could hear purses opening and makeup clattering. The girls were now standing by the sinks, presumably looking in the mirrors.
I prepared myself for my entrance.
“I can’t wait for this tryout meeting to be over,” Penny said.
“Really!” Margie exclaimed. “I hate having to face those girls in the hallway. Did you see Stacey today?”
“The poor thing looked like she was going to faint,” Darcy said.
My hand froze on the latch. Should I burst in on a conversation about me? How embarrassing! But if I stayed where I was, and they found out I’d been there, they’d know I’d been eavesdropping. I wasn’t sure what to do.
“Well, I don’t know why she’s going mental about it,” Margie said. “She did great.”
“Yeah,” Penny agreed.
I decided to postpone my entrance.
“Where did she learn all that stuff?” Penny asked.
“From the Baby-sitters Club,” Corinne answered.
The rest of the girls burst out laughing.
“Don’t be nasty, Corinne,” Margie scolded.
“I know what you mean, though,” Penny said in a condescending voice. “She does hang around them all the time.”
“No, seriously,” Corinne insisted. “She learned the dance routine from that sixth-grader she hangs around with. Remember — Jessi?”
“From Jessi?” Penny said. “No way. She’s too young. Where could she have learned to dance like that? Sesame Street?”
“Well, wherever Stacey learned it,” Margie replied, “she sure can move. And she’s pretty and smart. Plus she’s got a strong voice.”
“I think she’d be a great cheerleader,” Margie said.
“Yeah,” Penny agreed.
“Uh-huh,” Darcy murmured. “Better than you.”
“Stop,” Penny protested.
“I hate to say it,” Margie chimed in, “but she’s better than all of us.”
I thought I was going to scream with joy. I could just picture myself in a cheerleader outfit. I squeezed the toilet paper roll with all my might to keep from bursting.
“She seems pretty nice,” Darcy remarked. “Do you guys know her well?”
“Sheila knows her best,” Penny replied. “She likes her.”
“So does Robert,” Margie added.
“Is she lucky,” Darcy said.
Corinne exhaled loudly. “You guys, don’t get me started. You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Oh, please, Corinne,” Darcy replied.
“Here we go again,” muttered Margie.
“You are so insensitive!” Corinne complained. “I have feelings, you know. And I’ve got news for you. If it weren’t for Little Miss Baby-sitter, Robert and I would still be going out. She had to come along with her bouncy-bouncy hair, and now I’ve lost him!”
Penny laughed. “Corinne, you never had him!”
“Shows how much you know!” Corinne shot back.
“Uh, can we change the subject, please?” Darcy said. “Save the fighting for after school, hmmm?”
Clatter, clatter, clickety-click went the makeup kits as the room quieted down.
Bouncy-bouncy hair? I had never heard that one. The nerve!
Soon the girls began talking again. The topic switched from makeup to clothes to the members of the basketball team.
I listened with half an ear. Despite what Corinne had said about me, I couldn’t help but feel excited. The girls liked my routine. They said I’d be a good cheerleader. I heard it with my own ears.
I sat tight, struggling to keep my excitement in. I waited for the girls to leave, counted to a hundred, and opened the stall door.
When I walked out of the girls’ room, I wore a huge smile on my face. My hair was bouncing, and I was glad. My stomach was as calm as could be.
“Attention, please. Will all girls who made the final callback for the cheerleading squad please meet at the gym at the beginning of eighth-grade lunch period.”
The announcement came at the end of homeroom on Friday. I had to grab my desk. I thought I’d melt and slide to the floor.
I didn’t dare look back at Sheila. We had agreed early in the week not to talk about the tryouts. I didn’t want to spend the morning analyzing whatever facial expression I’d see if I turned around.
When the bell rang, I headed straight for the door.
I met Robert in the hallway on the way to my first-period class. “Good luck, Stacey,” he said, �
�but I’m sure you don’t need it.”
My hands were shaking. “I don’t know how I’ll last till lunch.”
Robert smiled and pulled out an envelope that was tucked into a book. “Here, maybe this will help.”
I took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a card with a photo of a girl in a cheerleading outfit. She was at the top of a jump, looking downward. Her eyes were buggy with shock. Clouds surrounded her, and a bird was flying by with a thought bubble that showed a question mark.
Two words were printed inside: HIGH THERE. Underneath, Robert had written, To my favorite cheerleader. You’re great.
Robert’s face was turning red. “Corny, I know, but —”
“No, it’s sweet, Robert,” I said. “I love it.”
“I was going to give it to you afterward, but you looked like you could use a boost now.”
“Thank you!” I threw my arms around him.
Robert walked me to my class. He was right. The card had given me a boost. He was obviously confident about the outcome of the tryouts. Everyone was.
My own confidence kept leaving me every few minutes. During my morning classes, I had to will parts of my body to stop shaking. Twice my teachers asked if I was having a diabetic reaction.
By the time lunch period finally came, I must have aged about ten years. I felt numb.
Slowly I walked to the gym. I hoped the beating of my heart wasn’t too obvious under my blouse.
I took a seat in the bleachers. Several of the other girls were there. We sat near each other, but no one said a word.
The cheerleaders were milling around, swapping clipboards, laughing and gossiping. They looked relieved. Fortunately Sheila’s back was to me every time I looked her way. I didn’t want to see her until the announcement was over.
“Okay, is everybody here?” Darcy called out. She approached us, counting heads. “I guess so. Okay, we can start.”
With a solemn expression, she began slowly pacing. The other cheerleaders sat in the first row. “First off,” Darcy said, “I want to say you were all wonderful. If we had twelve spots, we would have taken you all. We thought this was the best group yet.”
The other cheerleaders nodded and mumbled enthusiastically.
“Now, unfortunately, we have to face the facts. Eleven of you will not make it. All that means is that you’re in good company. Our decision was based on many things — talent and looks, of course; but also personality, height, physique, and ability to fit with the existing squad.”
Puh-leeze! This was torture. Where did she think she was, the Miss America Pageant? Couldn’t she just come out with it?
“We feel like we’ve gotten to know you, and we want you to keep in touch. After all, next year at SHS, we’ll be in the same boat, trying out together!”
Polite, nervous laughter from the girls around me.
“All right, now. After a long, long night, staying up and discussing every detail of every performance, going back and forth between all our excellent choices, we finally made our decision. I know you’re dying to know, so here it is. The new member of the SMS cheerleading squad is …”
She paused. I felt as if electricity were crackling through me.
“… Kathleen Lopez!”
My legs had been poised to stand. They seemed to be saying to the rest of my body, Come on, we can’t stay like this forever. It took awhile for my shocked brain to send the bad news downward.
On the gym floor, the cheerleaders were hugging and congratulating Kathleen.
Kathleen Lopez?
Her routine flashed through my mind — her decent but not spectacular turns, her okay split, her nice but wavering smile.
I tried to live with the decision. I didn’t want to be a sore loser. It was over. The best girl won. I stood up and got ready to leave.
But the moment my foot touched the floor, I stopped. Who was I trying to kid? Kathleen’s routine had not been as good as mine. I wasn’t being conceited, it was just true.
All kinds of thoughts were whisking around in my brain. Robert’s comments about the way The Group manipulated people, about their fickleness. The remarks I’d overheard in the bathroom about me. About Jessi. About Corinne.
Corinne! Could she have convinced them not to take me?
My blood was boiling. I walked right up to the happy group. Margie was the nearest girl. I tapped her on the shoulder.
She turned around. Her smile tightened. “Hi, Stacey.”
“Margie, why didn’t I make the squad?” I said it flat out. I was not going to pull any punches.
“Well … it was a hard decision, and …” She shrugged. “We just, you know, picked the best girl.”
She gave me this condescending, nothing-more-I-can-do look, then turned around again.
It wasn’t true. Something else had happened. I have pretty good instincts, and they were screaming foul right now. I felt like grabbing Margie by that shoulder. I felt like crying. I felt like screaming. I could barely see straight.
When my eyes cleared, I caught a glimpse of Corinne. She was backing away from the others and signaling me to follow.
She led me to a secluded corner of the gym.
I didn’t know how to read her face. She wore a sympathetic expression, but I couldn’t tell if she was just arranging her features that way. I didn’t trust anybody at that point.
“Stacey, I know how you must feel,” she said.
I bit my lip.
“But I have to tell you the truth. Kathleen wasn’t better than you. We all knew that.”
I could feel my mouth drop open. “Then what happened?”
“You’re not going to like this, Stacey.” She sighed. “The reason you didn’t make it was because you were too good. You’re so talented, so pretty, so smart, so nice. I think a lot of the girls felt, well, threatened by you. So we took Kathleen.”
Corinne was smiling at me now. She seemed calm, almost happy. Her face didn’t quite match the words she was saying.
What was going on? I mean, I appreciated the truth, but why was she telling me this? Why Corinne?
“Thanks,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.
Corinne returned to her group. I began walking to the gym door.
The gym was empty except for the cheerleaders. The other girls were long gone. I kept my eyes on the floor as I left. Corinne’s face kept coming back to me. That smile …
Suddenly it was as clear as day. She was enjoying telling me the truth. She knew it would hurt. She thought I’d stolen Robert from her, and she wanted to teach me a lesson — that I should never try to be better than she was.
I marched straight to the cafeteria. I didn’t even look at the BSC table. In the back, the basketball team was eating alone at The Group table.
Marty saw me first. He nudged Robert. They all looked up expectantly. Robert’s eyes locked into mine.
“Did you … ?” he asked, his voice trailing off.
Hot tears sprung into my eyes. “No,” I said. “They rejected me.”
“Whaaaat?” Robert bolted up from the table. He took me by the arm and brought me to a quiet corner. There I told him everything — Corinne’s and Penny’s comments, the conversation in the bathroom, the works.
By the end of my story, Robert was fuming. “Stacey, this is so unfair.”
“I should have listened to you when you warned me about them,” I said.
“I mean, I knew they were vain, but I didn’t think even they could do something like this.”
“I guess I was spoiled by you,” I barged on. “I figured if someone as nice as you was in that group, they couldn’t be too bad.”
Robert’s face fell. I realized I had said something totally stupid.
“I’m not blaming you, Robert!”
“No, no, don’t worry about that,” Robert replied. “You’re right, though, Stacey. I mean, I do kind of turn my back on all the stuff they do.”
“No, you don’t. You talk about it to me, you tried
to talk to Marty that morning —”
“But that’s all I do, talk. That doesn’t change anything.” He took a deep breath and grabbed my hand. “Come on, Stacey.”
Before I could say a word, Robert and I were jogging out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the gym. I was worried he’d burst in on the cheerleaders. I didn’t want that. I never wanted to see those girls again.
But Robert detoured into a small office just before the gym. The basketball coach, Mr. Halvorsen, was sitting at his desk inside. He was reading a newspaper with his feet propped up on the desk, next to a half-eaten sandwich and an empty coffee cup.
“Heyyy, Brewster, what can I do for you?” Coach Halvorsen asked.
Robert stared him straight in the eye. “Coach, I quit.”
I don’t know who was more surprised, the coach or me. Both of our jaws dropped open.
“Uh, say what?” Coach Halvorsen said. “I don’t think I’m hearing you right.”
“I said I quit,” Robert repeated. “As a protest. The cheerleaders led an unfair tryout.”
“Cheerleaders?” the coach bellowed. “What does that have to do with us?” He gave me an accusing look.
“A lot, Coach. We’re all part of the same problem. I’ve been thinking about this a long time. The members of the sports teams in the school — and the cheerleaders — are treated like gods. That kind of thing goes to people’s heads. It’s like, one set of rules for us, and another for everyone else. It’s not fair, and I don’t want to be a part of it.”
The coach chuckled in disbelief. “Robert, come on. What kid doesn’t want to be treated special? You guys deserve it. You’re the best thing to happen to this school in twenty years.”
Robert shook his head. “Maybe that’s the way you feel, but I don’t.”
“Well, suit yourself, Robert. I’ve got plenty of quality players on the bench who’ll be thrilled by this news.”
Robert didn’t answer. He and I turned and walked out the door.
SMS NEWS & VIEWS
EDITORIAL
There is a spirit in SMS these days. It’s not the school spirit we usually feel. It’s not our incredible pride for the greatest sports team in recent memory, perhaps in school history. No, it’s the spirit of negativity. The spirit that wants to tear us down, and for what?
Stacey and the Cheerleaders Page 8