by Zoe Evans
“It’s not Ian and Matt,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s . . . Katarina.”
What?!? Katarina? She is superserious about studying and is always talking about how much homework she has. She hardly comes to our squad dinners anymore because she wants to be “serious to the schoolwork.”
“Um, please explain pronto. I’m, like, not comprendoing here,” I said.
“I was shocked too,” said Jacqui. “But the note said that she has a C. Each squad member has to have at least a B- in every class in order for the squad to qualify.”
“Yikes. So then what did you do? Did you talk to Katarina?”
Jacqui bit her lip. “I gave the note to Coach first, and I guess after practice she told Katarina what the deal is. Katarina came hysterically crying to me. She was like, ‘It’s the social studies! I fail at being the social!’ But I couldn’t even laugh, because you know this, like, directly affects US. She told me she hasn’t been doing well this whole time but was too embarrassed to tell anyone on the team. Mrs. Tuttle has even been giving her extra help, but it’s still not working. And now she feels like this is all her fault.”
“Wow,” I said, taking this all in. “This is awful.”
If we miss out on going to this competition, I can’t even imagine how the squad will feel. The Grizzlies need this, especially after going to the Regional Qualifier and only being able to watch from the sidelines while more advanced teams like the Titans tore up the mats.
“It’s worse than awful,” continued Jacqui. “Katarina said that Mrs. Tuttle and her parents say she might have to quit cheerleading if she doesn’t up her grade. They think cheer is taking away from her studies.”
“Ohmigod! We’ll be ruined!”
“Yeah. I promised her I’d think of something,” said Jacqui. “But I have no idea what. And there’s a big test coming up right after break, too.”
That’s when I remembered: “Hey, isn’t Tabitha Sue some kind of history genius? And Matt’s, like, scary good at memorizing stuff. Maybe he could teach Katarina some tricks.”
Jacqui smiled, looking relieved. “I knew you’d have an idea,” she said happily.
“Let’s have an emergency meeting tomorrow with the squad. Just video chat me in. We’ll tell the team what’s going on and ask everyone to pitch in however they can to help Katarina ace this next test.”
“Well, it is winter break. People have a lot of free time on their hands,” said Jacqui.
“Yeah, and if we can get her to do really well on this next test, maybe she can turn her grade around and we can still be in the competition. Then she wouldn’t have to leave the team.”
“She’ll have to get an A on this test to pull her grade in that class up to a B-,” grumbled Jacqui.
It’s so unfair-Katarina tries so hard to do well in school and in cheer. It’s not like she’s a slacker.
“Maybe someone can talk to Mrs. Tuttle and ask her to go a little easier on her?” (Guess New York is making me into a “glass half full” kind of gal.)
“Yeah, good luck,” said Jacqui with a smile. “Mrs. T. doesn’t look like someone who lies awake at night worrying about cheerleaders’ grades.”
Jacqui had a point.
I heard someone call to Jacqui from another room. “Ok, gotta run,” she said. “We’re having a family cookie bake-off.”
“Uh, a what?”
“Don’t ask. Talk to ya later.”
After that news I was really hoping someone would lift my spirits. I knew it wasn’t going to be Evan . . . and Bevan wasn’t online either. But he did write me an e-mail-probably the shortest e-mail known to man-but an e-mail nonetheless: Hope the big city is treatin’ u well!
I haven’t been worrying about Bevan being out of touch as much as I have been thinking about Evan (again, something’s wrong with that picture . . .), but I have to admit the shortness of his e-mail is making me start to wonder. Does he just not miss me? What is it with the boys in my life? Are they all at some superfun Forget Maddy party together?
Still, I’m more upset about E. I must be going craaaazy.
Ok, so I’ve seen the New York City subways in movies, like, a billion times, but I still didn’t expect it to be THIS crowded. My face was stuck in someone’s armpit for, like, ten minutes before I got this seat. Delish!
T.G. it’s freezing outside-people are nice and covered up, so I was saved by the enormous puffy coat that separated said armpit from my nose.
Anyway, I woke up this morning from the rattle of my cell against the night table. It was a text from Jacqui:
“Don’t 4get, 3:45 today, Grizzly mtg.”
I looked out the window: another crisp, cold day. The sky was so clear and blue it almost hurt to look at it. I showered, used my curling iron to create some extra waves in my hair, then picked out New York Outfit Numero 2: stretch pants with a skirt (one of my own creations) over them, a slouchy sweater, and ankle boots. I’d seen someone on the street sporting a similar look yesterday, which gave me the idea.
Dad called my room to say we were going to go to a special place for pastries (he and Beth supposedly both love eating there whenever they come to New York), so I shouldn’t worry about missing breakfast at the hotel. Which for some stupid reason is super-duper early. Who wakes up at five a.m. with a giant hankering for Special K?
I hung out in the lobby for a few minutes, reading the mini version of the paper that they have lying on all the little side tables. I love anything mini-even if it’s world news. I plopped down in a comfy armchair and started reading the sports section, when I heard an oh-so-familiar voice.
“Mom! Come on! We’re going to be late for my class.”
I looked up from my paper, hoping that it wasn’t who I thought it was (even though I totally knew it was EXACTLY who I thought it was). There is no ignoring this problem away. I still can’t believe it. Of all the hotels in New York City, she has to be in mine! What, was there an article in Wake Up, Port Angeles telling people they should all go to this one hotel when they’re in NYC?
She saw me as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs. A surprised “oh” escaped her lips as we locked eyes.
Neither of us said anything for what seemed like eons. Finally, because it was mega awkward, I caved.
“Hey, Katie,” I said, because . . . what else was I going to do? Ignore her?
THIS did not look good: Two cheerleading captains playing hooky from their responsibilities back home? I was pretty sure she felt guilty about not being with the Titans over break, because her face immediately got all red.
“Um. Uh. Hey!” she said, as she walked toward me. She was playing with the zipper on her jacket awkwardly. I put down my paper and looked up at her.
I noticed her mom had come downstairs too, looking unhappy about something. Katie appeared to ignore her, though.
“So, uh, what are you doing here?” she asked me.
I decided to stand, because it felt awkward having her stand over me like that.
“My dad asked me to come with him and his girlfriend for a little vacation,” I explained. “And it’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” I don’t know why, but at that moment I actually felt nervous too. It wasn’t like I had lied to my team about where I was going. Like SOME people (ahem, cough, cough).
Katie picked at a cuticle and looked back at her mom, who was now talking to the front desk person. “I’m sort of in a similar sitch,” she said.
“You mean, your parents made you come with them on a vacation too? I thought you were supposed to be in Wisconsin.”
“How did you . . .?” She broke off, suddenly looking at me all suspiciously, like I read her diary or something.
“Jacqui told me. Hilary told her,” I explained.
“Oh. Wow. Didn’t realize my winter break activities were, like, news or something.”
Katie took a seat on the arm of the chair I’d been sitting on, so I sat back down across from her.
“Everything�
��s news at Port Angeles.”
“True,” she agreed. “Hey, can you do me a solid?”
Ummm. Why was Katie asking ME to do HER a favor? We aren’t friends.
“Could you, like, maybe try not to tell anyone back home that you saw me here? I can’t let this get back to the team. Not even Clementine or Hilary,” she said guiltily.
Oops. Too late! I knew Lanie was good to keep a secret, though.
“I won’t say anything, but do you plan on telling me why you’re really here?” I raised my eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. It must have been pretty bad if she was lying to her team-and even her best friends-about it. Maybe Katie had committed a terrible crime and was getting some kind of major surgery so she could create a whole new identity. Or maybe the people in her family were some kind of secret agents who traveled the world collecting clues, and Katie had to go with them?
Hmm. No, that wouldn’t explain why she was wearing that weird outfit yesterday.
Katie looked left to right, like she was worried her conversation with me was being filmed. Finally, she leaned forward on the chair and spilled the beans. “Ok, fine. I was never going to my grandparents’ house in
Wisconsin. I lied, but I swear I have a good reason,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Just then I noticed that she was wearing a getup similar to the one she’d worn yesterday-with all that dance gear. She was in full-out Dance Pants mode: baggy pants over tights, a leotard, and leg warmers. I couldn’t imagine she was going to a cheer clinic dressed like that. Something was definitely up.
“You ready, honey?” asked her mom, putting her hand on Katie’s shoulder. I saw Katie jump a little out of her seat.
“Mom, you scared me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Her mom let out an exasperated sigh. “You made me rush to get ready so we could go to this dance studio, and now I’m waiting for you?” Her voice sounded annoyed.
“Mom!” Katie said loudly. “This is Madison. From school-she’s on the Grizzly squad.” She nudged her head in my direction so her mom would notice me. Katie had emphasized the word “Grizzly” like she wanted her mom to know she was talking to a fellow cheerleader. Or to a loser. Hard to tell.
“Nice to meet you,” said Mrs. Parker as she shook my hand. “Katiebug, I’m going to call your dad-meet me outside when you’re ready.” She put on a pair of long red gloves. “But we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry,” she chided, before turning away.
“Nice meeting you!” I shouted after her. Then I turned back to Katie. “Katiebug?” I asked, smirking.
“Oh, whatever,” she said, flushing a little.
“So . . . is this a cheer audition?” I couldn’t help but ask, even though I had a feeling it wasn’t.
“Well, kind of,” she said, averting her eyes. “It’s, um, this new type of dance thing for cheerleaders.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You, uh, have to be selected. I couldn’t tell anyone, but it’s a special class that teaches captains elite dance moves.” She tried to smile, but I could see she was faking it.
“Well, I’m a captain,” I pointed out. “Maybe I should give it a try?”
Finally Katie sighed and threw her hands up in the air. I could tell that at this point she’d given up trying to lie. “All right. This is a huge secret, but the reason I’m here is that there is an audition for a performing arts school I really want to go to. It’s a dance audition.”
It all made sense at that moment-the fact that she had kept this trip a secret from everyone, her clothes, her embarrassment at seeing me.
“So, when you say ‘dance,’ you don’t mean cheer dance, I assume?”
Katie shook her head no, almost apologetically. “No, like dance dance.” She put her hands over her head like a ballerina about to twirl.
Suddenly my face gave her this look, similar to the look I would have given Lanie if she’d just told me Dustin Barker wanted to marry her.
Even though I knew Katie was up to something secretive, I never would have guessed that it was something like this. I’ve never known Katie as wanting to be anything other than the best cheerleader in the world. That was always her thing. But I guess I was wrong.
“Dance is my passion,” said Katie, after registering the shock on my face. “No one at school knows, but it always has been. I got into cheer because it had a lot of dance in it and I liked the challenge. Even after I joined the Titans, I never thought I wouldn’t be able to do both. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t keep up with my dance classes. And especially after becoming captain, I hardly ever get to go to class. Practice and competitions have practically taken over my life.”
“Sorry, it’s taking me a little time to process all this. I’ve never even heard of you being a dancer,” I said incredulously.
Katie smiled. “I had to keep it on the DL,” she explained. “I knew that people wouldn’t consider me a serious captain if I was spending all my spare time doing something else. I mean, you know what it’s like, right?”
I nodded. “I get being under a lot of stress because of cheer stuff. But you really think people don’t expect you to have other things you like doing?”
“I didn’t just stop because I was worried about what the squad would think. I stopped because . . .” She took a breath. “When I do something, it pretty much has to be all or nothing.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I said, thinking about the way she went after me so hardcore when she found out Bevan and I had been out on a couple of dates. And whenever I look at her at practice, she is crazy intense. Like nothing can take her focus off the mat.
“So I’m making a choice,” Katie continued. “I’m going back to dance. And the school I’m auditioning to get into has one of the best modern dance programs in the world. But seriously,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if someone were trying to listen in, “if the Titans find out about this, they’ll bug out. I mean, I’ll tell them if I get in, but for now, can we keep this between us?”
This was waaaay too much scoop for me to swallow in just one bite.
Mrs. Parker shouted across the lobby, interrupting us. “Katherine Anne Parker, if we don’t leave now, they won’t let you in. No late arrivals!”
Katie made an annoyed face. “We’re not late!” she shouted back. Then, turning to me, she said, “Listen, I gotta go. But please, please don’t tell anyone I’m here, or anything that I told you, ok?”
She ran out, leaving me in the lobby feeling completely stunned.
First of all, this is HUGE. Katie not wanting to be a Titan anymore? And second of all, her having this, like, secret dance thing going on all this time? Whoa. And the biggest kicker: She wants ME to keep her little secret for her. What am I, her new bestie?
Must be the New York air or something, but for some reason I’m actually not dying to get on the phone and spread the word-even though this is one extra-juicy piece of gossip. A part of me feels bad for Katie-it must be hard for her to have to choose between cheer and dance. (I know I feel that way sometimes when it comes to cheer and fashion design.) Katie loves that squad so much. And cheer has been, like, her entire life-or so I thought.
Finally, Dad and Beth came downstairs in their usual lovey-dovey hand-holding way.
“What took so long?” I complained, even though I was kind of glad they’d taken so long. Otherwise I wouldn’t have found out Katie’s Big Secret.
“Sorry,” said Beth. “I got a call from work.”
“Hey, Mads, are you ok?” asked Dad.
I am super readable when it comes to my emotions.
“Oh, yeah. Just ran into someone from school.” I shrugged. I knew Dad could tell there was something more, but luckily, he didn’t push it. Besides, I was still kind of processing everything and didn’t feel like telling them. I don’t think they’d understand what the big deal is anyway.
Well, we’re almost at our stop. Going to this downtown
neighborhood called Soho! Bevan said there’s supposed to be a lot of cute stores there . . . and we all know how much I heart shopping!
LUNCH, BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT
When we got out of the subway, there was a whole band of guys playing drums right on the subway platform. They were perched on some overturned crates, just banging away, hair swaying back and forth, totally getting lost in their music. While Dad and Beth went to the newsstand to get bottled waters, one guy, who was holding a bunch of the band’s CDs, came right up to me.
“This. Is. Reggae,” he said, shoving a CD in my hand.
I just smiled back at him stupidly, not knowing what to say.
“Now you are someone who digs the reggae, ja mon?” he said with a smile.
I was just about to say thank you and walk away with the CD when the guy stopped me. “Miss, miss,” he said, grabbing the CD back from my hand. “Usually we receive donations for these.” All traces of his Rasta accent were suddenly gone.
“Donations?” I asked dumbly.
Before he could answer, another guy came up to us, clutching a Sharpie in his hand, and said, “What’s your name? Who should I make this out to?”
“Um, Madison?” I said nervously.
What was taking Dad so long???
“To Mad Madison,” said the guy with a chuckle as he wrote out my name on the CD.
Then the first guy was like, “We usually get about fifteen bucks for our CDs. Do you have something like that on you?”
“Um, no,” I stammered. “Sorry.” T.G. I saw Dad coming back. “I gotta go!” I said, and booked it over to Dad and Beth.
“Everything all right?” asked Beth, looking concerned.
How embarrassing! They left me alone for two minutes and I’d gotten myself into a sitch.
“Yeah,” I said, eager to get out of the subway and into fresh air. “I made the mistake of thinking those guys were giving away their CDs for free. And I don’t even like reggae. I was just being nice!”