I watched Rick pull one of the roses from Moni’s hand and touch it to her nose. He was good, I had to admit. A real player. But this time he looked…sincere? The two of them talked quietly together. I didn’t want to eavesdrop. Okay, I only sort of wanted to. Todd didn’t give me that option.
“Reynolds,” he shouted again.
I held a finger to my lips and hissed, “Shhhh.”
But Todd Emerson? Totally shush-proof. He approached, buttons all in place for once.
“I need to bounce something off you.” He touched me on the elbow and led me toward the stairwell. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, and leaned in close. “We should make this a two-pronged attack. Next fall I want you to run for homecoming queen.”
“For what?”
“Hear me out. I mean, let’s face it, you’re one of the prettier girls in school.”
“Oh, sure.” I rolled my eyes. “I bet you say that to all your muses.”
“This cheerleading thing has paid off.”
“Big-time,” I added, with another look toward the ceiling.
“You’ve had some exposure,” he continued. “People know who you are, yet you’re still one of the masses.”
Chalk another one up to cheerleading.
“Put a name to a face and boom.” Todd clapped his hands. “Instant homecoming queen.”
Just add water. “Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to be homecoming queen?”
“Did you want to be a cheerleader?”
Okay. So I didn’t have an answer for that.
“Some people are born to greatness,” said Todd.
Oh, I knew who he included in that category, and I was looking right at him.
“Others have it thrust upon them.” Todd peered at me over the top of his new narrow-framed glasses. “Just think about it, Reynolds.”
He was crazy if he thought I’d try for homecoming queen. I was crazy for letting it cross my mind.
Todd’s gaze traveled over my shoulder to the hall behind me. “Oh. My. God.”
I had to laugh. Maybe cheerleader cooties really were contagious.
“I told him,” Todd said, “no matter what, do not wear the cape.”
Cape?
I turned and followed Todd’s line of sight. Moni still stood beside her locker, but Rick had been replaced by a kneeling Brian. At least I thought it was Brian. It was hard to tell with the massive purple robe and the hood that obscured his face.
He held something shiny out to Moni that appeared to be some sort of golden stick. The top of it was adorned with…was that a Christmas tree ornament? Ribbons coiled the length of the staff, supplemented at intervals with what looked like miniature purple and gold cheerleading pom-poms.
“Is he…is he doing what I think he’s doing?” I asked.
“That depends,” Todd said. “Are you thinking he’s spent the past two weeks creating an exact replica of a Party Quest wand for Moni, and now he is presenting it to her? Then—yes.”
Brian stood and placed the wand into Moni’s outstretched hands.
“Now go in for the kill,” Todd said under his breath.
Whatever “the kill” was, it didn’t look like Brian was going for it any time soon. Unless it involved turning whiter than the usual Minnesota pale and shaking so hard that we could see him tremble from our spot near the stairs.
“Come on…come on…” Todd seemed to will the words as much as say them.
Maybe it was some kind of nerd-boy mind meld, but something spurred Brian to stop shaking. He threw back his hood and swooped in for a kiss. It wasn’t the smoothest lip-lock on record, but it was real. It appeared that Moni thought so too. In any case, she leaned in and kissed Brian back.
Then it was all fist pumps and woo-hoos as Todd ran to meet Brian in a midair chest bump. The boys clomped down the hall together, stopping every few steps for another round of high fives.
“So,” I said when I reached Moni.
“So,” she said back, and that Moni Lisa smile spread across her face. She repeated every word of Brian’s conversation, the grin never leaving her lips.
“And Rick?” I asked when she was done.
“He asked me to the dance.”
“No way.”
“Way,” Moni said, “and he apologized. Sort of.”
“Are we talking about the same Rick Mangers? About this tall?” I raised my hand. “Senior hottie, but kind of a prick?”
“Who knew, huh?”
“And?” I asked.
Moni worked the rose stems into the ribbons that coiled the wand, then sniffed the tiny bouquet. “Not bad for one-dollar roses.”
“Come on,” I said. “Tell me.”
But Moni changed the subject. “My dad called last night and asked what I wanted for Valentine’s Day. I told him, ‘A Monica-free weekend.’”
“And?”
“And he’s coming down for the game, then we’re leaving right afterward.” Moni shrugged. “I won’t even be here for the dance, but I didn’t tell Rick that. I just told him no.”
“It’ll build his character,” I said. “Once he gets over the shock.”
“I just figured maybe I need some time to think. I mean, I’ve got this great big brain here.” She tapped her forehead. “Maybe it’s time I used it. Besides, if Monica’s cool about this weekend, then maybe she’s not totally awful.”
“And if she’s not cool with it?” I asked.
Moni grinned. “Then this will probably be the beginning of the end,” she said, but a moment later her smile faded. “What about you? Did Todd—?”
“What?”
“Ask you to the dance?”
“Right.” I pushed off the lockers and headed for my own.
“Come on.” Moni jumped in front of me. “I thought for sure. Seems like there’s something going on between you two.”
“I’m just a muse.”
“You’re amused?”
“Forget it,” I said.
“You sure there’s nothing—?”
“Nothing but delusions of grandeur.”
“Whatever.” Moni drew a breath, and her eyes widened. I turned to see where she was looking. Todd was at the end of the hallway, waving at Chantal. Apparently he was courting the gauntlet girl vote.
“She’ll eat him alive,” Moni predicted.
“I don’t think so,” I said. At least, not if he had something she wanted.
Chantal fell into step beside Todd. A hand on his sleeve, that hair shimmy thing. It was hard to tell from so far away, but I thought she gave him the look, the one reserved for seniors of the opposite sex—or quite possibly future presidents of the student body. And he didn’t even dissolve into a puddle of boy hormones. What had he promised her? I suspected it had something to do with the homecoming court.
“He’ll be just fine,” I said.
16
From The Prairie Stone High Varsity Cheerleading Guide:
It’s been my honor and privilege to guide you through this season as Prairie Stone High School varsity cheerleaders. Whether it was for one season or many years, you’ll never forget your time on the squad. No matter where life may take you, always let your (school) spirit shine!
My legs trembled. My voice was hoarse. I had lost five pounds in sweat—five pounds that had magically transferred to the pom-poms. How, exactly, did fringe get to be so heavy?
And it wasn’t even halftime.
Jack looked as sweaty as I felt. But tonight he owned the court.
“Man,” Moni whispered. “It’s like he’s on some sort of mission. Has he missed a shot yet?”
Well, yeah, he had. Even Jack Paulson couldn’t make every basket. But it was good to see him play so well. And it was good to have my mom, my dad, and especially Shelby in the stands, even if I wasn’t sure who she was there to watch. Was it me or Jack she grinned at most?
I had just sneaked a look back at the court when I saw it, and I hoped the referee saw it too. Jack sprang for a
rebound, arms high in the air, leg muscles taut. An elbow from one of the Wilson Warriors struck him in the midsection. The ball left his fingertips, hit the rim, then ricocheted into the crowd.
Jack fell. His legs buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground. A gasp echoed through the gym, followed by boos, then the shriek of a whistle rising above both. I lurched forward and gripped my pom-poms, feeling helpless. The refs hovered. Coach Miller rushed the court, a concerned frown on his face. He knelt and spoke to Jack, but the words were lost in all the noise.
No one moved. Not Jack. Not Coach. Not the referees. Cries from the crowd died down, and everyone waited. Please let him be okay, I chanted over and over to myself. I would have traded a thousand one-dollar roses just to see him move.
Jack rolled to his side. A wave of rhythmic clapping surged through the gym. It grew louder and faster as he made his way to his hands and knees. When he stood, everyone went wild, stomping, clapping. The roar was like a living, breathing thing.
The other cheerleaders jumped up and down. I stepped forward. My toes flirted with the boundary line, and I looked down the line of fringe. For once, no one yelled at me for not cheering.
Coach Miller probed Jack’s stomach. Jack winced, waved him off, and walked to his place at the free-throw line. The ball thumped against the floor, a blur of orange against the honey-colored wood. The crowd hushed. Even fans from the opposing team fell quiet.
His first shot circled the rim but rolled off. Nope. Not even Jack Paulson could make them all. He dribbled the ball again, the crowd still silent. The score was tied, with three seconds left before halftime.
The thudding stopped. Jack held the ball, his sights on the basket. Then, suddenly, he looked toward me. I didn’t know what else to do, so I gave my pom-poms a shake. That little-boy grin spread across his face. It seemed like his eyes never left mine. But they must have. The ball spun through the air. It floated above the rim. Then it slipped through, nothing but net. The Panthers headed into halftime up by one point, and I felt a blossom of hope in my chest. Just as quickly, I tried to talk myself out of it.
“Whoa.” Moni’s breath left her with a whoosh. “Call me tonight. I don’t care if it’s three in the freaking a.m. Call. Me.”
“What do you—?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Moni shoved me. “You saw it. I saw it. The whole school saw it. Don’t believe me, go ask someone. I bet even Todd saw it.”
“Do you think—” There was that hope again. I sighed.
“Yeah, I do.” Moni gripped me by the shoulders and frowned into my face. “Just promise me one thing. If he asks if you’re going to the dance, this time, say yes.”
The boys streamed toward the locker rooms, the crowd poured from the stands, people headed to the restrooms, and the Student Council went to man the snack bar in the lobby. But my feet refused to budge. I stared at the doorway long after Jack had vanished. People bumped me, but I barely stumbled. Only Sheila, collecting my arm and Moni’s, got me moving again.
“Can I talk to you two?” she said.
Like we had any choice. She escorted us to a space beside the bleachers, reached out, and fluffed each of our pom-poms in turn.
“I’ve been wanting to tell you.” Sheila’s eyes sparkled with—were those tears? “To tell you how proud I am of you. I know it hasn’t been easy. And that you had to really dig deep at times. But I was right about you girls from the start. Your school spirit just shines!”
Moni and I watched her walk away. Sheila stopped by Cassidy and held a perfectly lacquered hand in front of the captain’s mouth. Cassidy shook her head at first, then, eyes downcast, pulled out her gum and dropped it into Sheila’s palm.
Oh yeah, our coach really could strike fear into the meanest mean-girl cheerleader. We tried not to laugh, and managed pretty well until Sheila hit the gym doors. Then we exploded. Cassidy darted a look at us, but she started laughing too. Moni waved to her and shouted, “Bee and I have considered Death by Pom-pom; you want to join us?”
“I heard that,” Sheila called from just outside the doors.
We froze in place.
But Sheila just flipped her hair and glanced over her shoulder. “Next year, Moni, no excuses. We’re seriously going to work on those splits.”
The gym door opened and shut, bringing bursts of music and the occasional rose petal out into the lobby. Tonight laughter and talk made up part of the melody. Maybe it was leftover vibes from Valentine’s Day, or maybe the fact that the Panthers won by three. Regionals, here we come.
No one stood in line for the phone, not even me. Mom and Dad pried Shelby loose from the pom-poms. They looked toward the gym doors, then back at me.
“So?” they both said at once.
“I—I think I’ll stay,” I said. No risk, no reward, right?
After they left, I shared the lobby with a few others. In one corner, some freshman boys debated the merits of attending the dance. When a group of girls headed inside, the boys trailed after them, deciding the two-dollar cover charge might be worth it.
Then, out of nowhere, Rick Mangers appeared. He walked right up to me as if the past couple of weeks had never happened. “You talking to spark plug tonight?”
“I’ll be talking to Moni,” I said.
Rick laughed. “Yeah, well, tell her I went inside alone.” He nodded toward the gym.
“But will you be leaving alone? That’s the question.”
“Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”
“To find out,” I automatically corrected.
“Metaphor?”
“Grammar.”
Rick swore and went silent. Then he looked at me. “So, you really tutor anyone?”
“Anyone who shows up.”
He nodded and headed for the gym door, that swagger still in place. The way I figured it, when he was ninety and used a walker, he’d still find a way to swagger. Before he slipped inside, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Hey, Bethany,” he called.
I was reminded again that how a guy said your name meant something, and Rick had my attention.
“You still don’t know what you think you know, you know?”
What? “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
But he didn’t. He paid the cover charge, but before slipping inside the gym, he turned and winked.
Some things never changed.
The door to the Little Theater rattled. Todd emerged, looking strangely dapper—that was really the only word for it. He and Mr. Hair Gel had finally become properly acquainted. He wore a correctly buttoned (and nonplaid) shirt for a change. He almost had the wow factor.
“Getting ready for the ball, Cinderella?” I asked.
Todd scowled and pushed up his glasses. “Figured if I’m running for student body president, I should experience what the student body does.”
“Something about that sounds wrong,” I said.
“Tell me about it.” Todd gave me a thoughtful look. “What about you? Fielding offers?” He nodded toward the gym.
“None so far.”
“It’ll happen.”
“I don’t know.” I pushed down a sigh. Jack never took this long to change. I wondered if he regretted that free-throw look. I wondered again if it had even happened.
“You can still come inside.” Todd nodded toward the gym again. “Join me, in official pre-election capacity, of course.”
“Oh, of course.”
He took off for the door. When he reached the entrance, I called after him. “Hey, Emerson!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Just don’t do the robot dance, okay?”
He pointed at his chest and mouthed, Who, me? Then he paid, stood straight, bent his arms like they were on hinges, and walked mechanically inside the gym.
He was so going to blow the election.
Footsteps from the locker room hall made my heart leap. I sucked in a breath and let it out.
But the boy who rounded the corner was Ryan Nelson, not Jack.
“Oh, hey,” he said, and nodded over his shoulder, toward the locker room. “I—I mean, Paulson…”
He trailed off, like he was torn. I had no idea if Jack meant for me to stay, or sent Ryan to get me to leave. Maybe he didn’t even know himself.
“Can you get me a basketball?” I said.
“A what?” Ryan looked at me strangely, like I’d just asked him for lip gloss or something.
“You know.” I dribbled an invisible ball. “They’re round and orange, and they bounce.”
“Uh, sure.”
I followed him to the equipment room. Ryan tossed me a ball and didn’t seem surprised when I headed away from the lobby and the gym. “I’ll be out back,” I told him.
Icy air frosted the bare skin on my legs. The cold stole my breath, but I went for it anyway. I dropped the pom-poms at the edge of the makeshift court. A breeze made the fringe whisper against the asphalt. My breath and the thump, thump, thump of the basketball were the only other sounds.
I aimed for the basket. I tried to mimic what Jack did, how he moved on the court. The ball left my fingertips. It wobbled around the rim before slipping through the chain links. The ball bounced once, but before I could catch it, it vanished in a blur. And that same blur went in for a layup, shook the backboard, and hit the ground in a solid slap.
Jack.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He rolled the basketball between his palms, then looked at me. “What?”
I waved a hand in front of my stomach. “From tonight. Are you hurt?”
“Oh, that. Had the wind knocked out of me. I feel like a wuss.”
“Don’t—it looked scary.”
Jack shrugged.
“I was worried,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could weigh them.
Jack let the ball drop and approached, a hand in his letter jacket’s pocket.
“Been meaning to give you this.” From that pocket, he tugged my copy of Pride and Prejudice. “I finished it.” He studied the cover, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s kind of about second chances, don’t you think? I mean, once Darcy got over himself.”
The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading Page 24