I reached in, my fingers finding a crumpled piece of paper. I knew before smoothing the crinkles what it said: “Witty Things to Say When Jack Paulson Is Nearby.”
I took it and the Dr Pepper can and tossed them both in the trash. Three seconds later I dug them both out. I pressed the can against my temple, the aluminum cool, one soft click sounding in my ear. I couldn’t throw it away, but I couldn’t stand to look at it either. At last I put both in my bottom desk drawer—a compromise between letting go and holding on.
By three on Sunday afternoon, I’d abandoned everything: the phone, homework, the computer. I stared at my ceiling, willing the world to go away. When Shelby came into my room without knocking, and then asked about Jack, I snapped.
“Leave! Me! Alone!” I shouted. I chased her out of the room and slammed my door. But seconds later, when I heard sobbing in the hall, I peeked out the door.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
She wiped away her tears, sniffed. “It’s okay.” But her quivering lip said it wasn’t.
“You want to learn the new dance?” I offered.
With a squeal, Shelby grabbed the pom-poms and headed for the living room. Soon “Get Ready for This” was screaming from the stereo, and we were step-shimmy-kicking it like never before. Even Mom joined in. It made me happier, and sadder, in an odd way. After three dances, Mom and I collapsed on the couch while Shelby continued moving through the routine.
“I’m going to have to buy her a set when it’s time for you to turn those things in,” Mom said, and laughed.
When I turn those things in, I thought, and my brain offered up images I would have rather not considered. Like, cheering on the sidelines with Jack out there on the court. I reached up to hold my head. How did I ever let myself get so stupid? Geek girls and cheerleading, geek girl and Jack Paulson, those things were like oil and water. Impossible to combine.
“Honey, do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you all weekend?”
“I—” How did Mom even know? I hadn’t said a word about the breakup. If you could call it that. Then I thought, of course, no phones, no visits, no Geek Night. Hard not to know that something was wrong. I shook my head, but when a tear escaped down my cheek, Mom moved closer.
“I’m sorry this had to happen, but maybe it’s better this way.” My mom groaned. “Sorry. That sounds like something a grown-up would say. What I mean is, I never really dated in high school. And I certainly wasn’t a cheerleader.”
“I’m not much of one either.”
“Oh, honey, but you are.” She stroked my hair. “I’m amazed at what you’ve done. Madame Wolsinski should see you now. You know,” Mom continued, “when I was your age, you could pretty much call me a nerd.”
Like mother, like daughter.
“Then, when I got to college,” she continued, “I was so overwhelmed by it all. Someday I’ll tell you about the frat party from hell.”
That sounded like something Rick Mangers would host.
“This way, maybe you’ll be more ready than I was. Dating, boys, all of it,” she said. “Think of this experience as a big social experiment.”
“And the hypothesis is: I suck at it.”
“Everybody does at first.” My mom squeezed my hand. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”
The song ended. Instead of hitting replay, Shelby dropped the pom-poms and plopped down next to me on the couch, her eyes huge and sad. She squeezed me tight around the waist. I didn’t think—what with the music going at full blast—she’d overheard Mom and me. I hugged her back, just as tight, and wished I was nine again.
“So, Reynolds, tell me about this deal between Paulson and Rick Mangers.”
I whirled from my locker Monday morning, jostling the door. It rattled shut. My head felt thick, my fingers stupid. I had to run the combination twice to open it again. I felt the flush start along my jaw. It seemed to simmer there for a moment before spreading across the rest of my face. So. Todd knew about the bet. How on earth…oh, freshman wrestlers, of course. So if they knew, and Todd knew, then the whole damn school must know.
“Sure, Paulson’s got that black eye,” he said, “but I still say Mangers ended up with the worst of it.”
“Jack’s got a what?”
“Black eye,” said Todd. “Uh, you’ve seen it, right?”
I tried to piece together what he was saying. “Jack and me—”
“Jack and I,” Todd corrected, then concern clouded his face. “Hey, Bethany, is everything okay?” Again I was reminded—the way a guy said your name meant something.
“Everything is—” So not okay, I thought. But I didn’t know how to start that conversation, or whether I wanted to. “I guess…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “How did Jack get a black eye?”
“All I know is Saturday, Paulson and Mangers got into it in the boys’ locker room. It took five seniors to pull them apart.”
“A fight?”
“A bad one too. Pretty-boy Mangers is looking rough this morning.”
“Over what?” I asked.
“That’s just it. No one knows.” Todd shrugged. “I figured you’d have the inside scoop on that.”
“I’m not on the inside of anything.” I turned back to my locker and pretended to look for a pencil. So Todd didn’t know about the breakup—or the bet—which meant maybe no one else did either. I should’ve felt relieved, but the weight of it hung over me. It was like waiting for the other Skecher to drop.
Todd touched my shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I shrugged.
“Really?”
“There’s nothing going on. At least not anymore, not between me and Jack.”
“No way,” Todd said. “Since when?”
“Since Friday.” I swallowed a breath. “After the game.”
“Well, that explains Geek Night. You should’ve come anyway.”
“Wasn’t in the mood.” Still, it was nice to know I was welcome somewhere.
“Damn.” Todd leaned against the next locker and stared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”
His concern was actually touching.
“You don’t suppose he’ll still support my campaign, do you?” Todd pushed the hair away from his glasses. “I admit it might be a little awkward at first, but with time—” He broke off at the look on my face.
“What one usually says at this point is, ‘Gee, Bethany, I’m sorry.’ Or ‘Gosh, Bethany, that’s too bad.’ You do not wonder if it will hurt you in the electoral college.”
“Look, Reynolds—”
My jaw was so tight, it hurt. “So if it was a choice, between him and me?”
Todd opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“Wrong answer.” I slammed the locker door, not caring if I had everything I needed or not. I marched, head down, toward history, the opposite direction of Todd, the cafeteria, the gauntlet, Jack, Rick, and even Moni—the opposite direction of everything.
The classroom was empty. I sat at our table and considered sprinkling Todd’s chair with pushpins from the bulletin board. I stared at the map of the world and thought about hearts: how Todd’s was two sizes too small, how much mine hurt, and how Jack’s was a mystery.
Except…it was no mystery. I’d seen him with his dad. Jack’s was one of the best hearts I had ever known. That I never really had a spot in it—well, that was what hurt the most.
I stood down the hall from the cafeteria door, at the spot where I usually met Moni for lunch. I hadn’t seen her all morning. My throat felt rough—from tears, from not talking, from holding everything in while Jack Paulson sat across from me in Independent Reading. God, I needed Moni, and I needed her now.
Chantal and the gauntlet girls filed past. Each of them gave me a long, hard stare. It was their standard intimidation tactic—guaranteed to work on freshmen, sophomores, and the occasional esteem-challenged upperclassman. Once upon a time, it would have worked on me, too.
But even in my current state, I knew I looked fine, or as fine as anyone coming off a weekend-long crying jag could look.
Todd gave me a mock two-finger salute when he passed by. Brian and most of the debate team shuffled past in his wake, careful not to look me in the face. So. Todd was mad that I was mad? Oh, grow up, I wanted to shout.
There was no sign of Moni. Or Jack. But Rick Mangers skulked past. His nose was swollen. Bruises colored his forehead and one cheekbone. He didn’t glance my way. But Todd had been right: Pretty-boy Mangers looked rough today.
I spotted Moni at the far end of the hall. When I realized she was flanked by Anna and Kaleigh, a strange fight-or-flight impulse kicked in. “I’ll catch up with you guys,” Moni said when they reached my spot in the hall. Kaleigh and Anna exchanged looks. I swore they laughed once they were inside.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?” But Moni didn’t stop, just slowed a little, and I hurried to catch her.
“I almost lost my boyfriend thanks to you. That’s what’s up.”
“Moni. Didn’t you listen to my messages? We—”
“Look, it’s not my fault you screwed things up with Jack.” Moni’s words were shrill. “Rick is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I swear, if you try anything else, I’ll—”
I shook my head, but what I really wanted was to shake some sense into my friend. “This whole thing is a joke. We’re a joke, to both of them. This isn’t real.”
She turned to me when she reached the cafeteria door. “You’re the one who needs to get real. We make the cheerleading squad and a bunch of good stuff happens, but all you can do is bitch about it.” Moni’s eyes were small and fierce behind her glasses. I’d never seen her like this.
“I don’t know what I did, but—,” I started. Except…I did know. This was Rick’s work. He’d taken my words, mixed up some metaphors, and fed them to Moni.
“You messed up everything. Don’t you get it?” She leaned close and spoke her next words slowly. “You almost ruined my life.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t get me started. You don’t even want to know what Rick said about you.”
She was probably right about that.
“Why can’t you just chill? Even my mom isn’t this uptight.”
Uptight? Okay, she was definitely right—I didn’t want to know what Rick said, but I could guess: Paulson doesn’t like uptight chicks.
“Just because you can’t stop being a loser doesn’t mean I have to do the same thing.”
Maybe Moni’s voice rose in volume, or maybe the chatter in the cafeteria had hit a natural low point. Either way, her words rang out across the space. People turned and stared at us. A few kids smirked. Several more giggled nervously. And she wasn’t done yet. “Do me a favor, Bethany,” she said. “From now on, stay out of my life.” Moni spun away from me and headed inside the cafeteria.
I stood on the threshold. Fight? Or flight? With the gauntlet girls at lunch, the path to the bathroom was clear, but that was the coward’s way out. I forced down the lump in my throat and stepped through the door.
Mechanically I filed through the food line. Then there it was, the sea of cafeteria tables before me. I thought about the first day of freshman year, how nothing could be worse than that. Then I thought, Maybe I was wrong. The First Law of Cafeteria Karma = Things can always get worse.
No one waved me over. Moni sat with Rick, Anna, and Kaleigh, at a table centered between the jocks, senior class royalty, and the gauntlet girls. Chantal did her best to preside over all four tables at once. She leaned across and said something in Moni’s direction, and a ripple of laughter floated above the noise. I whirled around, and my tray connected with someone else’s, someone with dark, spiky hair. Someone who was pretty much the last person I wanted to see—who also happened to be the only person I wanted to see.
Jack raised his gaze from the mingled mess of our lunches. I saw the black eye then, purple and painful-looking.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. Sorry about everything. This mess, the one on Friday, the fight with Rick, Moni. You name it, I was sorry for it.
“My fault.” Jack walked away, dropping his tray into a trash can, dumping it all in—food, milk, tray, silverware, all of it.
And still, I just stood there, while Jack’s chocolate pudding oozed into my applesauce.
The acoustics in the cafeteria would never match those in the Little Theater, or in the gauntlet for that matter, but from the far corner, I heard a distinct “Ahem.”
Todd and Brian, the members of the debate team, the Chess Club, and a few freshman wrestlers—all stared at me. Todd’s expression held a hint of apology. The tip of his head said, Come on, you know you want to. But I couldn’t.
I wasn’t embracing the here and now, or whatever it was he thought I was doing. I dumped my food, untouched, into the garbage, just like Jack had, and headed for the exit. When I passed the last table by the door, someone laughed.
Todd cornered me after school. I was standing at my locker, ignoring the stares and whispers of those passing by—or trying to. I wished I could simply go home and stay there. But first I had to make it through cheerleading practice, then I was due back at the gym for the last wrestling meet before sectionals.
“Look, Reynolds,” Todd said. He leaned against the closed locker next to mine and offered up a smile. “I know I can be pretty stupid for a smart kid sometimes. And you probably don’t even care what I have to say anymore, but for the record, I wouldn’t think any less of you if you gave this up.”
“This?” I asked.
He waved a hand at the cheerleading uniform. “Nothing wrong with a strategic retreat.” With that, he gave my arm an awkward pat and left before I could say anything.
I’d thought about resigning. Sure. Even more so during practice that afternoon. It seemed stupid to stick with cheering when everyone else on the squad hated me. Moni and Kaleigh huddled together and never looked my way. Even when the entire squad lined up for a cheer or routine, there was this perceptible distance between all of them and me—like I was contagious.
I avoided both my mom and Shelby once I got home. Up in my room, I pulled the cheerleading handbook from my backpack and flipped through until I found Sheila’s phone number. Ready? Okay, I told myself, just do this. After today’s practice, I figured Sheila might even understand. But when the call rolled into voice mail, I felt a strange sense of relief. I hung up without leaving a message. I’d tell her tomorrow.
That night, a wrestling meet was the last place I wanted to be. I stood outside Prairie Stone High, in the cold, my feet itching to run toward my mom’s ancient Volvo that was pulling up the hill and away from the school. I dashed up the school steps, more to escape the cold than from some great desire to let my school spirit shine. I’d barely made it through the double doors when I was surrounded.
“There she is!”
It was Andrew and the rest of the freshman wrestlers, all decked out in purple singlets, Prairie Stone High hoodies, and funny wrestling shoes. “You’re here,” one of them said. He added an, “Ow,” when two of his teammates nudged him.
“I said I would be, didn’t I?” I tried for enthusiastic and hoped my voice didn’t give away my true feelings. “Which one of you is up first tonight?”
“Tyler is,” Andrew said. “He’s been spitting into trash cans to make weight.”
Eww. I wrinkled my nose, and Tyler blushed. Then all conversation stopped. After an uncomfortable silence, I asked, “You guys all warmed up?”
They looked at one another and shrugged. No, they hadn’t warmed up. They’d been hanging around the lobby.
Waiting.
For me.
“So,” I said. “Anyone care to walk a girl inside?”
That got them going. They yelled and jumped, all arms and legs. At the entrance to the gym, Andrew let the others bounce ahead while he hung back. His shy smile faded. “He isn’t here,” he said.
&nbs
p; I didn’t have to ask who “he” was. Moni’s speech in the cafeteria pretty much guaranteed the whole school knew it was over between Jack and me. But it was only after Andrew mentioned it that I realized I’d been hoping Jack would show up tonight. I squelched a sigh. “Thanks,” I said.
“No, you.” He bounded into the gym, then turned and walked backward. He pointed to me and mouthed, Thank you.
I stood in the gymnasium by myself. As much as I dreaded seeing Moni, I really didn’t want to cheer alone. A few minutes later Moni arrived. I was so relieved that—like an idiot—I waved. She didn’t wave back.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said when she dropped her coat beside the bleachers. “I’m only here because of Rick.”
“Bethany! Moni! There you are!” Mrs. Dunne called. In response to the enthusiastic greeting, both Moni and I plastered on our best “school spirit” smiles. Chalk another one up for cheerleading, I thought. At least now I could be insincere with the best of them.
Mrs. Dunne, wrestling mom extraordinaire, handed me a pillow made of purple and gold satin with matching fringe. She gave the second pillow to Moni.
“They’re yours to keep,” Mrs. Dunne said. “The gym floor must be hard. Of course, we hope you’ll put them to good use next year.” She urged us closer with a crook of her finger. “This is strictly confidential. Coach Donaldson and Sheila want to give you a formal invitation, but mark your calendars for the end-of-season banquet.”
I forced another smile. Moni did the same. I’m not sure it was enough to convince Mrs. Dunne that attending the wrestling team banquet was a lifelong dream.
“These are nice,” I said when Mrs. Dunne left.
Moni responded with: Nothing.
We positioned ourselves in our usual spots, our knees on the new pillows. The fringe on them flirted with the edge of the mat, and our pom-poms rustled each time one of us shifted. Moni didn’t look my way while we waited for the first match to start. And once again I wondered why the hell I even bothered to show up.
The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading Page 21