by Zoe Evans
“All right, guys, you’ve probably heard of the punch front,” said Diane. “But since we haven’t done it yet, I thought I’d show you.”
Side note: A punch front is basically a front flip, using both feet to take off from. I’m pretty sure we started to learn this before Diane got here, but no one was near mastering it.
“Ok, so first I’m gonna show you how it looks, and then I’ll break it down.”
We all cleared some space to give Diane room. Diane took a breath and, without any momentum, flipped in the air, landing perfectly. Not a wobble in sight. Nice!
Jared started clapping, and the rest of the team followed suit.
“Thanks, Diane!” said Jacqui. “Maybe we can all work on this one, huh, guys?”
Everyone looked game, though Jared and Tabitha Sue both had slightly freaked-out looks on their faces. I love it when the team is pumped about learning new things. We divided up again into groups to practice the move. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Katie and Hilary walking into the gym. I learned my lesson from before, not to smile or wave or anything (unless I have a big desire to feel like a loser). So I pretended not to notice her. But then she turned her head and saw me and she actually ROLLED HER EYES at me! Can you believe?? What did I do to her? I’m racking my brain to figure it out. I know we smoothed things over a superlooooong time ago about the Bevan thing, and that also laid the Evan thing to rest too. (Wow, do I sense a pattern here?) So that isn’t it. What can it be? List time!
* Did I toilet paper her house? No.
* Did I come to school dressed in the same outfit as her? Hardly.
* Did I spill orange juice on her pants at lunchtime so that it might look like she had a different kind of accident? Negative.
Speaking of Bevan, I don’t really want to admit it to myself, but I don’t have a choice anymore: This thing with Bevan is bothering me way more than I thought it would. Maybe it’s the exhaustion speaking, but I’m a teeny-weeny bit upset that he’s been so MIA since I got back. I don’t really get it—before I went away, we were like THIS CLOSE!
But since I got back we have barely made any plans, and I basically see Mr. Hobart more than I see him. (Which is totally unfortunate, because Bevan is way cuter than Mr. Hobart.)
I couldn’t help but look for him in the hall when I left the gym. He used to practically always meet me after practice, which I loved because it was never a planned thing. He’d just be there. Lately, I guess he’s been mucho busy with soccer stuff. I don’t think that team even leaves the gym. Maybe they set up sleeping bags and work out until they all fall asleep on the gym floor?
I totally get being obsessed with a sport (I mean, hello!) but still, it’s annoying that his obsession is affecting ME! I don’t like being the thing that gets thrown to the curb. I think what really sucks is that I’m kind of not sure if I feel the same way I did about him before, and the less I see him, the more true that realization becomes. It’s totally not his fault that I had a BIG EUREKA moment about my feelings for Evan while I was away. But it would help if we actually spent some time together—because then I could actually figure out if I feel more for Evan than I do for Bevan or vice versa.
All right, my brain is now officially closed for the night. I can’t take anymore today! Can’t wait to get home and just CRASH!
NIGHT, CHILLAXING IN MY ROOM
Are you there, cheer gods? It’s me, Madison! Oh wait. You’re actually LISTENING?! Guess so, because right after I inhaled a delish meatball sub and lay down comatose on my bed, I saw I had a MISSED CALL!
Lo and behold, it was from Bevan. He left me a voicemail and everything! I was half expecting an automated message, like (cue robot voice that mispronounces everything), “Hello. Madisone. This is an automatic message from Bev and Ramsey. I am sorry that I have not called you in many days. Soccer has taken. Over my life.” But luckily, it wasn’t automatic. It was THE BEVAN RAMSEY in the flesh (or in the voice, I should say) asking me to call him when I got a chance.
I called him back, and he picked up. I’m so awkward at leaving messages, so I was really glad.
“Whadup, Madison?” he said. “You got my message?”
“Yeah, I did. What’s goin’ on?” I asked, trying to be über-casual. Which was the opposite of what I was feeling inside. In my head I was like, “Where have you been for the past few weeks? Why have I become yesterday’s news?”
“Listen, I’m uh . . . sorry I’ve been such a stranger lately,” he said awkwardly.
“What do you mean?” I asked, totally lying. Duh! Like I haven’t noticed.
“Well, you know. We haven’t been hanging out much lately. My team is really bringing things to the next level. Wait, so, you haven’t, like, noticed?”
I might be wrong, or imagining things (wouldn’t be a first!), but I think he actually sounded a little hurt. Like he wanted me to notice and care that we hadn’t chilled in a while. I don’t know why I didn’t just tell him that I was kinda upset that he’s been so busy. Maybe I didn’t feel like letting him see that he hurt my feelings.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess. You’re right, it’s been a while. It sounds like you’ve been really busy.”
Awkward pause.
“So. Yeah,” he continued. “I was wondering if you wanted to, um, go bowling Friday night?”
Bowling? How cute! Bevan had told me he’s only been bowling, like, once in his life. So I guess he’s not afraid to look stupid in front of me. I’d told him I’d show him a thing or two.
“Yeah, I think I’m free,” I said (playing hard to get, ha-ha). “Let’s do it.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
“So, I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yep. I don’t plan on being a delinquent.”
I was glad he called, but then, for some reason, I decided to go online and see who was there. And now I realize, I wasn’t just looking to see if “just anyone” was there. My mind had wandered to Evan. Before I had a chance to IM him, a message popped up on my screen. Here’s our convo:
Evan: “Hey u!”
My heart actually skipped a beat. What is happening to me?
Maddy: “Hi!”
Evan: “Whatchu up 2?”
Maddy: “Meh. Not much. Just hangin’. Soooo tired.”
Evan: “Grueling Grizzly practice?”
Ugh. I hate lying, but I’m not ready to tell him about my plan to possibly try out for the Titans.
Maddy: “Yuppers.”
Evan: “.”
Maddy: “Totes.”
Evan: “U should relax. I’ll check on u l8r.”
He is sooo sweet, thinking about me like that.
We said good-bye and signed off. Finally! Time to really pass out. I closed my computer and went to take off my earrings. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that I was smiling ear to ear.
And you know what? This smile isn’t from Bevan asking me out to go bowling. It’s from talking to Evan!!! Gah! Cray-zee-ness.
This morning I was still in a pretty good mood from my convo with Evan last night, PLUS the fact that Bevan actually acknowledged that I exist and asked me out for tomorrow. Things were going well for little ol’ moi, Madison Hays. I ate a delish breakfast (Pop-Tarts all the way), tried to ignore the goofy way Mom was been acting all morning (parents are weird), AND when we got in the car, my fave song was on the radio (I heart Bruno Mars). Not a bad start to the day, right?
Sigh. Little did I know that surprises awaited me at the School of Doom. I sashayed through the big clonking doors at school and found myself face-to-face with a poster. It wasn’t just an ordinary poster—nothing like those neon-colored flyers that people throw all over the school’s walls advertising “Math Club Party!” or “Save the Lizards of Laos!” Nope. I was face-to-face with a poster for the annual Sunshine Dance that’s just three weeks away.
Here’s the thing: The Sunshine Dance is a HUGE STINKING DEAL. This isn’t a girls-on-one-side-of-the-dance-floor-
boys-on-the-other kind of dance. It’s the first serious dance anyone ever goes to at our school. This will be my first time going to it. Everyone knows that people will be dressed in their absolute best outfits, and EVERYONE who plans on going will be going with a date.
As I stood there pondering my dilemma, two girls came skittering to a screeching halt in front of the poster.
“OMG!” one girl squealed. “Only a couple more weeks! And I don’t even have shoes yet!”
Um. Shoes? I didn’t even remember it was HAPPENING until two seconds ago.
“Seriously,” her friend said. “You better get shopping before they’re all out of cute stuff. I bought my dress and shoes months ago. And my dad reserved us a limo. Eeeeeee!”
Dress? Shoes? LIMO? I am so behind.
I walked in a daze toward my locker, wondering how I missed this. I’m sure people have been talking about this dance for weeks now, and I’ve just been oblivious. Really, how does something like this take me by surprise? Oh. Yeah. Right. Maybe it has something to do with my secret training for Titan tryouts. Guess I’ve been a little preoccupied (u think?) If there’s one thing I like more than anything (or at least as much as cheer), it is dreaming up an outfit for a fun occasion. And this is the occasion of occasions!
I started to mentally flip through the pages of dresses that I’ve been dying to design but haven’t had a reason to wear. (I’ve got quite a catalog up there.)
Suddenly, a voice interrupted me. “So did you see the posters are finally up?”
I turned to see Lanie, fighting hard to not be at all excited about the dance of the year. Dances and ordinary social events are not Lanie’s thing. African dance?
Yes. School dance? Not so much. HOWEVER, I know that deep down, Lanie Marks is just as excited as, say, Clementine Prescott is at the idea of getting glammed up (in Lanie’s own way, of course) and maybe dancing with a boy. She is human, after all (or at least I think so).
“Yeah,” I said, fiddling with my locker combination to jumble up the code. “Did you know this was coming so soon? Because those posters are the first I’ve heard of it.”
Lanie rolled her eyes. “Have you been living under a pom-pom? It’s all anyone ever talks about these days. The excitement must be infectious or something, because brace yourself—I think I want to go.”
“I can just see it now, you entering the dance in a sparkly hot-pink dress and breaking it down to a techno beat.”
Lanie laughed. “Right. That’s exactly what’ll happen. So . . .” She looked at me expectantly. “I assume you’ll be going with B?”
Funny . . . with all my excitement about the dress-up part of the dance, I hadn’t even thought about the whole date part.
“Well, actually . . . not as of yet,” I said, shaking my head with a frown. It seems I’m not the only one who’s on Sunshine Dance delay. Hmph.
Lanie made a face like it was no biggie. “Well, you know Bevan. He’s probably just been so into his sports that the dance hasn’t made it to his brain yet.”
I chewed the inside of my lip, trying to think back to our conversation last night. Why hadn’t he just asked me then? Maybe he wanted to wait for our bowling date to ask me in person. . . .
“The good news is, he finally asked me to go out on another date. I was starting to think he’d forgotten my screen name.”
“Ooh, that’s good,” said Lanie, perking up. “Definitely a step in the dance direction,” she added.
She must have seen me looking all distant because she quickly said, “Remember, he’s a dude. Dudes don’t live for things like dances. Not like girls do.” She lowered her eyes. “I mean, girls except for me.”
“Ok, Miss I-Think-I-Want-to-Go,” I snarked.
Just then we saw everyone scurrying to class. “Guess we should mosey on to Torture Session Number One,” I said.
Lanie patted me on the back. “He’ll ask you, don’t worry.”
“Yeah, yeah . . . we’ll see.”
I was almost the last person to arrive at Mr. Hobart’s class, and everyone knows that Mr. H is a total dragon about people being late. I once heard about this one kid who was always late. Mr. H made him solve every problem in a math book before he was allowed to leave detention. He actually made the kid come back the next afternoon to finish up! I’m actually surprised Mr. H didn’t just make him spend the night. Imagine, having to spend a night with Mr. Hobart. Talk about a nightmare sleepover!
I took my usual seat three rows from the front of the classroom. It’s been my seat this whole year. The rule is, once you choose your seat on the first day, it becomes your designated spot (unofficially), so you better like it. I don’t make up the rules; it’s just the way it is here in Port Angeles. Katie and Clem, who are also in my class (lucky me!) have always sat diagonal from me. But lately, they’ve both moved to the extra chairs in the last row of the classroom. (Apparently, rules don’t apply to them.) I have a feeling it has something to do with me because whenever Clem and Katie walk by, they snicker as they pass me, and practically sprint to their new seats. It’s like I’m the kid who peed in her pants who everyone else wants to avoid.
Right after I sat down, Katie and Clem walked into class. Of course, THEY didn’t seem to be in any kind of rush. Mr. Hobart has a soft spot for the Titans, so they sauntered in, taking their time. Clementine actually stopped by the window to gaze at her reflection and fluff her hair. Ugh.
So then, they both purposely walked past MY desk, which is totally unnecessary. As Clementine passed me, she mumbled “Ew,” and Katie laughed.
I can’t stand it anymore. WHY, OH WHY, AM I THEIR NEW FAVORITE PUNCHING BAG?