by Amy Clipston
“Don’t act so naïve, Whitney.” Taylor shook his head. “You and I both know it’s not about ability.”
“So, what is it?” I leveled my gaze with his as irritation nipped at me. “What are you afraid to tell me?”
“I’m not afraid to tell you I think she’s not the cheerleader type. We all know there’s a type. It may not be listed on the school’s activity website, but if you take one look at the photos on the cheerleading page, you’ll see that there’s a type.” He pointed at me. “You’re it, and she’s not.”
Anger simmered inside me. “So you’re saying that because she’s not blonde and she’s Hispanic, she won’t fit in? You can take a look at the team and see we’re not all Caucasian or blonde.” I started counting off on my fingers. “Tiffany is Asian, Krystal is Filipino, Diana is African American, and, oh, Monica has dark hair. Besides that, we also have very different personalities.” My voice shook. “I think you’re the one with the problem, not me or my cheer team. You’re the one who’s prejudiced against my type.”
I slung my purse and backpack over my shoulder. “I have to go.” I bolted through the door and rushed down the hall toward my next class.
I was nearly fifteen minutes early for class, so I found a quiet corner in the hallway, slid onto the floor, and sat with my knees propped against my chest. My body still vibrated with a mixture of anger and hurt. Although I was beginning to believe Taylor and I could be friends, I found he was just as judgmental as Brett and Doug. Maybe it was a guy thing. Perhaps all guys were self-righteous and arrogant.
But his accusations still hurt. All I wanted to do was help his sister. Vanessa had seemed so determined to become a cheerleader, and I excelled at training. I’d taken freshmen who didn’t know how to do cartwheels and taught them how to flip from the top of a pyramid. I had taught at the cheer camp three summers in a row. I knew I was capable of helping Vanessa, but Taylor refused to let me because of how he felt about “my type.”
I considered his accusations. Maybe I was the problem. Perhaps I’d done something to offend Taylor over the years, but I couldn’t imagine what it was. Had I somehow rebuffed him in middle school? I couldn’t think of one negative incident that had occurred between us. But his words had stung me.
I was so confused and upset, afraid I’d cry and embarrass myself in front of the whole school. Why did Taylor Martinez’s opinion of cheerleaders affect me so deeply?
I dropped my head into my hands, closed my eyes, and prayed.
God, please help me in my relationship with Taylor. I want to help Vanessa, but I can’t if Taylor doesn’t trust me. Please help me figure out what I can do to fix this situation. Make Taylor realize I would never intentionally hurt him or his sister.
I cleared my throat, pulled out one of the novels Taylor had recommended, and read until the bell rang to announce the next class.
“Where is my stupid phone?” I folded forward the backseat of my Jeep and searched for my iPhone later that evening. “I know I had it earlier.”
“Why don’t you try calling it, genius?” Logan held up the house phone while standing by the garage. “Want me to dial?”
“Yes, please.” I threw my hands in the air and moaned in frustration. I’d been searching my backpack and car ever since I realized it was missing during supper.
“It went straight to voice mail.”
“Oh no.” I buried my face in my hands and moaned again. “The battery was dying when I was in calculus, and I was thinking about going out to my Jeep and plugging it in after lunch, but I forgot.” And then I got totally distracted after tutoring … I scowled at the memory of the tutoring session.
“So get a new one.” Logan shrugged as if it was the most reasonable solution.
“Dad will never let me buy a new iPhone, Logan. Do you have any idea how much those things cost?”
“You might catch him in the right mood. That’s how I got a new skateboard last week.” My brother winked at me.
“You do have a point.”
“As Grandma always says, give everyone a chance to say no.”
I grinned. “You know, you’re very smart for an eleven-year-old.”
“I try.” He disappeared into the garage.
I folded the seats back correctly and locked the Jeep before heading into the house. I found my father sitting in his favorite recliner while watching the evening news.
“Hey, Daddy.” I dropped onto the sofa across from him.
“Did you find your phone?” He looked over at me.
“Uh, no. I think it’s long gone.”
“I’m certain you’ll find it.” He turned his attention back to the television and changed the channel. “I imagine one of your friends found it and will give it to you tomorrow.”
“But that’s the thing, Dad. If someone found it, they would’ve called me. I already called Kristin and Tiffany, and neither of them have seen it. I’m sure if any of the guys had found it, they would’ve given the phone to Tiffany or Kristin or even called me themselves. I really think the phone is gone. I’ve searched my Jeep and my backpack nearly a dozen times. I even retraced my steps through the house and searched my room. It’s nowhere to be found.”
Dad gave me a sideways glance. “It’s not the end of the world, Whitney. I would actually enjoy the silence if my phone or computer were lost. I’d get some peace for once.”
I folded my hands and gnawed my lower lip while trying to think of a way to convince Dad that my missing phone was a huge deal. “Actually, I was wondering if I could go to the cellphone store and get a new one.”
My father shot me a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You want me to give you permission to spend two hundred dollars to replace a phone you’ll probably find tomorrow?”
“But it’s gone, Daddy.” My voice raised an octave as I begged.
“Whitney, I think you should wait at least forty-eight hours and confirm it’s gone.” He scowled. “You can survive a day or two without the phone.”
“But Daddy—” My whining was interrupted by the doorbell. “I’ll get it.” I jumped up from the sofa and made my way to the front door. I pulled the door open and froze when I found Taylor standing on the front step. “Taylor. Hi.” I stood up straight. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you missing something?” He held up my iPhone.
“My phone!” On impulse I launched myself into his arms. When I realized I’d hugged him, I stepped back as I took the phone from him. “Thanks, Taylor. I’ve been searching everywhere for it.”
“Sure.” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he quickly looked down and kicked a stone on the front step.
“Where did you find it?” I asked.
“You left it in the library. I tried to find you, but you took off in a hurry.” Taylor jammed his hands into his jean pockets. “I couldn’t call your house because your phone was locked, and I didn’t know your password. I had to leave school early for work, and I didn’t want to leave it on your Jeep. I was going to bring it to school tomorrow, but I ran into Emily. She told me where you live, so I thought I’d bring it by after work.”
“Thank you so much.” I pushed on the screen, and the phone didn’t respond. “I was right. The battery is dead. I tried to call it earlier, but it went right to voice mail.”
My dad appeared in the doorway and smirked. “I see you found your phone. It’s a good thing I didn’t let you go buy a new one.”
“As always, you were right, Dad.” I pointed between my father and Taylor. “Dad, this is my friend Taylor Martinez. Taylor, this is my dad.”
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Taylor shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you too.” Dad gestured behind him. “Would you like to come in? My wife made her famous sugar-free chocolate cake earlier. It’s out of this world.”
“Oh, no, thank you.” Taylor pointed toward the driveway. “My mom is working late, and my sister is home alone. I need to get home.”
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“All right.” Dad nodded.
“Whitney?” My mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Who’s here, dear?”
“It’s my friend Taylor, Mom.” I looked at Taylor. “I’m sorry. You’re going to meet the whole family.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Well, invite him in, dear.” Mom waved from the kitchen.
I lowered my voice. “Do you mind stepping in for a minute? My mom prides herself on being the best hostess in Castleton.”
“I have a couple of minutes.” Taylor followed me through the family room to the kitchen doorway.
“Mom, this is Taylor Martinez. He’s my calculus tutor.” I touched Taylor’s arm and realized it was the second time I’d touched him today. I hoped he didn’t get the wrong idea. Even though I called him my friend, I was still offended by his comments earlier about cheerleaders.
“It’s nice to meet you, dear.” My mother came around the island and shook his hand.
“Hi, Mrs. Richards,” Taylor said.
“So, you’re Whitney’s calculus tutor.” My mother folded her arms over her collared shirt and assessed him with her eyes. “Whitney hadn’t mentioned you.”
Taylor shot me a sideways glance. I was certain I’d get a lecture from him later. It was more fuel for his “cheerleaders-are-all-snobs” attitude.
“Where do you live, dear?” Mom asked.
“Great Oaks,” Taylor said.
“Just down the street from Emily,” I chimed in.
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” Mom pointed toward the Tupperware cake saver. “Would you like a piece of sugar-free chocolate cake? I just baked it this morning.”
“Oh no, thank you. I need to get home, but I appreciate the invitation.” He looked around the kitchen. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Why, thank you.” My mom stood a little taller. “You need to visit again.”
“I will. Thanks.” Taylor turned to me. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Taylor said good-bye to my parents on his way out to the porch. We fell into step on our way to his motorcycle waiting in the driveway. I shivered in the February air.
“Thanks for bringing my phone over.” I hugged my arms to my middle. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Taylor paused. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about earlier. I’m really sorry.” He reached under the bike seat and pulled out a small bag. “This is for you. It’s sort of a peace offering.”
“A peace offering?” I opened the bag and pulled out Ludwig Becker’s new novel. “Taylor! Oh my goodness. How much do I owe you?” I squelched the urge to hug him yet again. What was with my wanting to hug this guy?
“Nothing.” He studied me. “Actually, I do want something in return.”
“Okay.” I held my breath.
“I want you to let me explain myself.” He leaned against the bike, making us almost eye level. “I’m really sorry about earlier, and I’m afraid you got the wrong idea about me. I’m not prejudiced against anyone. I just want to protect my sister. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if my sister was hurt. She’s faced enough heartache in her life, and school is difficult enough without being rejected by an exclusive group.”
I hugged the book to my chest in an effort to stop shivering as I considered his words. “Why do you keep calling my friends exclusive?”
“Whitney, that’s just how it is here.” He folded his arms over his faded-green jacket. “Do you really think Brett or any of the rest of his jock friends would hang out with me? Would they invite me to any of their parties?”
I remembered Doug’s cruel words when he called Taylor a loser and pointed out that Taylor didn’t hang out with them. “You have a point. But would you even consider going if they did invite you?”
Taylor shook his head. “No, because I know I wouldn’t fit in. And I don’t want Vanessa to face that. I don’t want her to think she could be captain of the cheerleading squad, because she can’t.”
“You don’t know that for sure. If you gave me a few months to work with her, she could out-cheer some of the current seniors we have on the team.”
He grinned. “You’re really confident, aren’t you, Whitney?”
I shrugged. “I know what I’m good at. I’m good at cheering and school … except for calculus.”
“You’ll get calculus. Just give yourself some time.” He stood, and his smile faded into a more sullen countenance. “I don’t have anything against you. And I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I don’t like you. I’m just worried about my sister.”
“But you really gave me the cold shoulder.” I thought back to our most recent conversation. “You’re complicated. One minute you’re recommending books to me, and the next you’re telling me that not everyone will like me. I can’t figure you out.”
“I’m sorry.” His expression showed he truly was. “I guess it’s a defense mechanism for me to be standoffish at first. You have to understand I’ve dealt with Brett Steele, Doug Moor, and the rest of their ignorant friends teasing me since elementary school. That’s why I’m automatically defensive around kids from their clique.”
“What do you mean they’ve teased you since elementary school? What did they say to you?” Alarm surged through me. I knew Brett and Doug talked about Taylor behind his back, but I never knew they teased him.
“They used to constantly remind me that I lived on the poor side of town, as if I didn’t already know that. They made fun of my mom’s car and what she does for a living.” His eyes darkened. “I’ve built a wall around myself because of them, but I was dead wrong about you. You’re not like them. You’re different. You’re warmer and you’re thoughtful. I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly, and I’m sorry.”
Disappointment filled me as I thought of my friends. Why hadn’t I realized they were so mean to kids outside our group? I shouldn’t have been so blind. I suddenly felt even more alienated from my friends. “I guess I should be the one who’s sorry for the way my friends have behaved. If I’d known they were giving you a hard time, I would’ve confronted them.”
“You don’t have to apologize for their actions. I realize now you’re not like them.” He paused. “But I did mean one thing I said earlier. You really shouldn’t worry about people liking you. You seem to worry too much about what people think. You should just be yourself. If someone doesn’t like you, then they are the ones who have the problem.”
“If only I could figure that out,” I muttered.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I suddenly felt as if Taylor was finally letting me see past his hard exterior. I was beginning to understand what made him tick, but I felt I needed to explain myself better. “Taylor, I feel like I need to clear the air on something between us.”
“Okay.” His expression became curious.
“I’m not perfect, and I never asked for the life I have.” I pointed toward my house behind me. “My mother tells me how to dress, what functions to attend, and who my friends should be. It’s not as easy to be me as you think is.”
“I never said it was easy. I just said you have more opportunities than I do.”
“That might be so, but I just wish I could make one decision myself. It’s not that I don’t appreciate my life. I’m thankful for what I have. But sometimes I wish I could decide who am, who Whitney Jean Richards truly is.” I paused and wondered if I was getting my point across, or if I was only making his opinion of me worse. “Do I sound crazy and spoiled?”
“No. That actually makes perfect sense. You’re tired of being molded by her.” He shook his head slowly as if he finally understood what I was trying to say. “I guess you’re complicated too. You’re much more than you seem.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, feeling defensive.
“I just meant you’re more than just one of the popular kids. I feel like I understand you better now.
I should’ve given you a chance instead of blowing you off. I’m sorry about that.” He paused for a moment and then looked hopeful. “So, are we friends now?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess?” Taylor seemed unconvinced. “Do you have to ask your boyfriend for permission first?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, and I wouldn’t have to ask his permission if I did.”
“I thought you and Brett were going out.”
“Not anymore.” My thoughts moved back to Vanessa. I was still trying to understand why Taylor was so determined to protect her. “I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Why are you so worried about Vanessa? What happened to her? Was someone mean to her at school? I remember middle school was rough.”
Taylor thought for a moment while rubbing his chin. “I wish it was only school, but it’s worse than that.”
“Oh.” I worried I’d crossed a line. “If it’s too personal, then please don’t tell me. I don’t want you to share something that’s too painful.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll tell you. I guess it really isn’t a secret my dad isn’t around. He left us when I was six.”
“We were in first grade,” I said softly.
“That’s right. It was right before school started.” He stared off behind me while scowling. “I can still remember that day. My parents were screaming at each other. Honestly, my only memories of my dad are of him yelling and my mom crying. But that day he left and never came back. Vanessa doesn’t remember him, and she still insists he’s going to come back someday and take care of us like he should.”
Taylor looked at me with a wry expression. “She thinks he’ll just ride in on his white horse and sweep us off our feet like Prince Charming in some Disney fairytale. But he’s not coming back. We don’t even know where he is, and he doesn’t pay child support. Every time a court finds him and starts to garnish his wages, he quits the job and moves.”