I Was a Non-Blonde Cheerleader

by Kieran Scott

  He grinned that grin that was painstakingly designed to turn me to instant mush. “Me?” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Never!”

  I had to concentrate to get my feet to move me inside. I closed the door, leaned back against it and sank down to the floor, the pogo ball landing in my lap. It was a total movie moment. I love it when I have those.

  “What the?”

  Bethany had walked in from the backyard to find out where the heck I’d gone. She looked at me, then looked out the window. She let out this kind of guffaw, then slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “You’re in love with Sage Barnard’s boyfriend,” she said gleefully. She crouched down in front of me, her eyes gleaming, her hand over her heart. “I didn’t think I could love you any more, but now I do!”

  I was in too much of a dazy haze to protest her very true statement. She leaned forward and planted a big, loud, smacking kiss on my forehead before padding off toward the bathroom.

  “This is great,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “I love this girl!”

  Saturday was the first gray day since I’d been in Florida. A crap day for a football game. I thought heat and humidity could get bad back in the tristate area, but I had been whining about nothing for the past few years. The air was so thick, you could feel the water particles trying to push you back as you moved forward. It was us versus the air and the air was winning.

  It made me miss those crisp fall days of the Northeast. But hey. You work with what you’ve got.

  I arrived at the football field early to help the rest of the squad decorate the home-side bleachers. The scoreboard was lit up, and the huge plywood Fighting Crab that stood atop it looked almost eerie through the dense air. Even with all the wetness I could feel the sizzle around the football field. There was a battle about to take place and I was going to be front and center.

  I grinned. This was one of the things I loved about cheerleading—being part of the whole football experience. Fall leaves or no, I was a cheerleader again. Suddenly it was all I could do to keep from jumping up and down on the red clay track that circled the field.

  Only a few of the girls were there when I reached the bleachers, including Phoebe. She was sitting near the bottom of the stands, wrapping blue and yellow streamers around the railing. Drawing on my good mood, I resolved to say hello to her. I felt a little guilty over the puke-pink-room comment I’d tossed out at tryouts and I was hoping she might give me a chance to apologize. Granted, she’d been horrendously rude to me first, but someone had to be the bigger person, right? It was time to start becoming part of this team. And that was going to mean getting the rest of them to speak to me. Whatever it took.

  I started up the steps and Phoebe looked up. With a huge smile I opened my mouth to say hello, and Phoebe just turned away from me. Not just her face either. She turned her entire body, making it unduly difficult for her to continue decorating. Apparently she’d rather channel her inner contortionist than talk to me.

  “Look, Phoebe, I’m really sorry about the other day,” I blurted. “I was hoping—”

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from me?” Phoebe said, her back still facing me.

  “Yeah, but I—”

  She stood up and turned to shoot me a glare. “Then stay away from me.”

  “Listen, it’s not my fault that you had to move,” I said, my brain racing for the right thing to say. “And . . . and I’m a good person once you get to know me—”

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to get to know you,” Phoebe shot back, her eyes filling with angry tears. “Seeing you just reminds me of all the things that suck in my life, okay? I know it’s not your fault, but that’s just how it is.”

  As she stormed off, a huge lump appeared in my throat. Wow. This girl was really messed up. And she hated me. So much for team spirit. She might be a good writer for Bethany, though.

  I wandered up the bleachers and ended up decorating with Mindy and Autumn, who in her eternal positivity seemed to be the least bothered by my presence on the squad.

  “Kristen and Danielle hate me,” she said with a carefree smile as we taped a huge banner to the concession stand. “They call me Peppy Le Pew because, you know, I’m so hyper. I got kind of sick of it, actually, but I never really said anything because, you know, I have a forgiving spirit.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “But I’m glad you got them kicked off,” she told me confidentially, reaching back to tighten her white-blonde ponytail. “I really think their negative energy was beginning to affect the squad.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “You really do have the most beautiful aura,” Autumn said, staring at the space just above my head. “A little polluted, probably from all the stress of living in such a high-paced area as New Jersey, but the ocean air should flush that right out!”

  I didn’t much know what to say after that. But I thought it was nice of her to care.

  Spirit ran seriously high at Sand Dune High School. By the time the game started, the stands were packed with fans in blue and yellow and anticipation filled the air. My parents were in the front row, cheering and waving a pair of souvenir pom-poms. They could be so embarrassing. But hey, no one here knew who they were. Bonus!

  The East Bay Buccaneers kicked off to us and the second the kicker’s foot hit the ball, I felt a rush of adrenaline. Let’s see what these Fighting Crabs can do!

  Much to my shock, the rest of the Sand Dune High cheerleaders seemed to actually know what was happening on the field. Back home, our captain was constantly calling defense cheers when we were about to score (which was rare) and making us do “Move That Ball Down the Field” when the bad guys had the ball. But now I had Tara to my right, shouting things like, “Blitz! They’re coming on the blitz!” and a tall, gangly girl named Felice on my left, going, “Pick up the safety! The safety!” while she jumped up and down and pointed. The best part of all was that the Crabs actually scored twice in the first quarter and allowed no points. For a winless girl like me, it was cheer nirvana.

  Then I noticed that Phoebe was spending a lot of time staring into space. Every now and then she’d wander off from the formation and either Tara or Coach Holmes, who was sitting on a bench under the bleachers, would have to whisper-shout at her to get her to come back.

  “What’s up with Phoebe?” an extremely tan girl named Jaimee asked Felice. “She’s, like, totally zomborific.”

  I need to write that one down.

  “I heard her parents are splitting up because her mom’s still tripping over her dad losing the house,” Felice said.

  “That was just straight-up wrong,” Kimberly chimed in. “What kind of man disrespects his family like that?”

  “I heard her new room at her aunt’s house is, like, ugly and brown and it, like, smells like something, you know, died in there,” Jaimee put in.

  “Poor Phoebe,” Felice said.

  “That girl is definitely not in cheer mode today,” Kimberly said, shaking her head.

  Then Tara called a cheer and my eavesdropping was over. My heart felt heavy as I moved through the chant on autopilot. It was no wonder Phoebe hated me. I wished there was something I could do, but it was kind of hard to make someone feel better when they refused to even look at you.

  As the second quarter wound down, I noticed a disturbance at the other end of the line. Chandra and Autumn were bickering, their arms crossed over their chests, their expressions both extremely offended. At first no one could hear what they were saying, but the argument grew more heated, and certain words started hitting the airwaves.

  “How could you say—”

  “I was just making an observation—”

  “An observation? Omigod! That is the worst thing you could have said right now!”

  “You guys!” Tara scolded through her teeth.

  A few people in the stands started to catch on and tune in to the escalating argument. There were twitters and pointing, and then the
marching band started to chant from their spot in the center of the stands.

  “Cat fight! Cat fight! Cat fight!”

  “Tara! Get control of your squad!” Coach Holmes hissed.

  The game clock ticked down and the whistle blew. Tara stalked over to Chandra and Autumn. The rest of us huddled together in a group, afraid to interfere. Everyone except Phoebe, who walked over and sat down on the bench next to Coach Holmes. She stuck her legs out, crossed her arms over her chest and slumped.

  “This does not look good,” Whitney said as Autumn grew more and more animated.

  “Nuh-uh,” Erin agreed.

  “What are you doing?” Coach Holmes whispered.

  “And now, your Sand Dune High School varsity cheerleaders!” the guy on the PA called out.

  Everyone looked at one another as if they’d forgotten where they were. Then, as one, they all started shouting, cheering and jumping and ran out onto the field. Mindy and I stayed behind, having yet to learn the halftime/competition routine. We went to sit on the bench by Coach just as Phoebe was dragging herself up to join the rest of the squad on the fifty-yard line.

  “This should be interesting,” Coach said under her breath.

  Actually, it started out just fine. It’s an impressive routine with a lot of energy and some kick-ass music. At first, everyone seemed to be moving in unison, though only about five people were smiling. Then, when it came time to do the basket tosses, Phoebe didn’t bother to bend her knees, so she caught little air and came down two beats too soon, throwing everything off. Half the team recovered the beat, but the other half didn’t, so for a few moves it was all a mess. Then, at the end, Autumn was supposed to shoulder-sit on Chandra at the front of the formation, but they couldn’t get it together—the easiest stunt in the book. They both ended up standing there, looking confused, until the final beat, when they just threw their hands up into high V’s.

  The sky picked that very moment to open up, showering a torrent of rain down on the cheerleaders and their pyramid. Instead of applauding, the crowd scrambled for cover. The result was a deathly, foreboding silence. As the squad jogged off the field, Jaimee tripped into Felice and sent her sprawling into the muddy grass. She came up looking like a black-and-white cookie.

  Coach Holmes covered her face with her hands.

  Mindy and I exchanged a look of doom. It was awful. It was embarrassing. It was depressing. But to be honest, all I could think was, Heck, at least I wasn’t out there. For the first time, nothing could be blamed on me.

  “What was that?” Coach Holmes demanded, pacing back and forth in front of us as we puddled all over the auxiliary gym floor an hour later.

  In the second half we’d fallen apart even more. Tara had been forced to readjust the formation to separate Chandra and Autumn, and thanks to the rain, we were sliding around and messing up all over the place. The only bright spot had been the total trouncing the football team had recorded. They’d won, 55–7.

  “Who were those people? Because I know that wasn’t my team. That wasn’t the team I know and trust and respect.”

  She paused as if waiting for someone to say something. I swear I heard sixteen cheerleaders gulp.

  “You girls know I don’t care if you mess up. We all make mistakes. We all know this,” Coach continued. “But when you mess up because you can’t get past petty issues, when your head’s not in it because you’d rather focus on your own selfish feelings, that’s when I get pissed. Now, are you losing focus, team?”

  “No, Coach,” was the mumbled reply.

  She tipped her head back to the ceiling and flopped her hands into her thighs, fed up. “I said, Are you losing focus, team?”

  “No, Coach!”

  “Good! Because this is a very bad time for you to lose focus,” she continued. “We have our number-one rivals coming to our field next weekend and I want you girls to be there one thousand percent. All of you,” she said, looking at Phoebe, who hung her head. “Here’s the schedule for spirit week,” she said, handing out sheets of light blue paper. “Need I remind you that, as cheerleaders, you are the embodiment of spirit in this high school?”

  I almost laughed. It was knee-jerk. A statement like that at my apathetic former school would have earned a nice round of chuckles. But here, everyone just looked at her somberly. Thank God that giggle hadn’t made it past my throat.

  “You have a lot of responsibilities this week. Now, I want to see you all get your butts in gear, you hear me?”

  “Yes, Coach!” we all shouted. I was starting to get the hang of how to answer her.

  “All right then, you’re dismissed.”

  Phoebe ran off in tears after being singled out. Autumn grabbed her bag and flounced off, pointedly turning her back on Chandra. Whitney and Tara fell into heated conversation as they followed after Phoebe.

  I glanced at Coach, who was shaking her head as she packed up her gear. Somehow I got the feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.

  That night, my brother showed up with Hottie Number One (Joe Wu) and Hottie Number Two (Tucker Freeman). Florida surf boys were cu-ute. They threw their duffel bags in Gabe’s yet-to-be-unpacked bedroom, then jumped in the pool fully clothed. (Shucks.) I was supposed to study and practice, but somehow Tucker managed to cajole me out of my room and into the water. Though I did put on my bathing suit first.

  After drying off, I called Jordan to tell her all about the insanity of the day. I was gabbing on the phone with her as I came back downstairs for a late-night snack of leftover pizza. (Gabe’s friends had ordered three with everything.)

  “I thought you said this squad was good,” Jordan said after I related my tale of woe. “They’re making us sound like nationals material.”

  “I know! And yesterday they were all over me for messing up. Like they would never,” I replied, pressing the phone into my shoulder so I could open the fridge. “You should have heard the coach. She was all—”

  I stopped midsentence. The guys were conversing in the living room.

  “She was all what?” Jordan asked.

  “Shhh. Hot boys talking,” I said, tiptoeing down the hall.

  “Ooooh. What’re they saying?”

  “Hang on,” I whispered. I paused outside the living room, where the guys were battering each other on Xbox, and held my breath.

  “You never told me your sister was so smokin’, G!” Joe said.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Gabe responded.

  “She did look fine in that bathing suit, dude,” Tucker put in.

  I grinned and scurried noiselessly back to the kitchen. “Jor?” I said, giggling into the phone. “I think I’m cheering up.”

  “Amazing what a few hot guys can do for ya,” Jordan replied.

  CHEERLEADERS GO DOWN IN FLAMES!

  Not one, but TWO surprise pile-ons make for a bizarre pep rally.

  This was the headline on the school paper, The Weekly Catch, on Monday afternoon. It was accompanied by a highly unflattering picture of me with my cheerleading skirt flipped up to waist level and Autumn’s foot pressed into my stunned face. I stared at it as I walked down the hall to geometry class, trying to ignore the blatant whispering that had been following me everywhere since lunch, when the papers had been distributed.

  “Okay, Annisa! You can wake up now!” I said through my teeth. If the last week had been a dream, this seemed like the perfect moment for the alarm to go off.

  “Nice hat,” someone said sarcastically as they passed me by.

  I reached up with one hand and touched the black knit beanie cap I’d worn to mark Hat Day, the first theme day of spirit week. Almost everyone in the school was wearing a hat, but most of them were baseball caps of the SDH variety. There were a few exceptions—the occasional cowboy hat, a visor or two, but mine was the only heavy black number.

  Tomorrow was Plaid Day. I wondered if everyone in this town owned blue-and-yellow plaid shirts. But that prospect wasn’t
nearly as scary as Face Paint Day which would happen on Friday. That was going to be interesting.

  “Annisa!” Bethany called out, stopping me before I could turn into class. She was, of course, hatless. “Sorry I missed lunch. I was in the computer lab.” She looked down at the paper in my hands and winced. “So you’ve seen it, huh?”

  “You know, I’ve never looked at my half-naked body from quite that angle before,” I said, trying to joke through my nausea.

  “Look at it this way. Any guy who asks you out now, there are no expectations,” Bethany said with a shrug.

  “Why, because he already knows I’m a loser?”

  “No. Because he’s already seen up your skirt.”

  I smirked even as my stomach turned. “You know, I don’t think you’ve quite mastered the concept of the bright side.”

  “Gimme this,” Bethany said. She snatched the paper away from me, crumpled it in one hand and launched it over her shoulder, where it hit a passing freshman in the head.

  “Ow,” he said.

  “Whiner,” Bethany replied without even looking at him. “So listen, I’m like this close to launching sucks-to-be-us 2.0. You wanna come over after practice today and help me test the site?”

  I smiled. A night hanging with Bethany would probably be the perfect antidote to whatever torture was going to be brought my way at cheerleading practice. Plus, I felt a skitter of excitement run through me at the thought of going over to a new friend’s house.

  “I’m in,” I said, just as the warning bell rang.

  “Great. We’ll burn a few school newspapers in effigy,” she said.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Bethany smiled encouragingly before she walked away. As she headed down the hall, I saw her snatching newspapers away from random people, all of whom protested, but none of whom tried to take them back. I laughed and walked into class. It had taken about two seconds for Bethany to make me feel better.

  “Quizzes, get your quizzes,” Mr. Loreng said, handing out papers as we filed into the classroom. My stomach twisted up in knots. I’d totally forgotten about the quiz!