“But don’t let that stop you from responding. What do you think? Based on what you read, do you have any feelings about what the authors might not have shared?”
I lower my hand. Is she kidding? I don’t have any feelings about what they might not have written about. In fact, I do not have any feelings at all. I am numb with embarrassment.
“I think I can help out here.” I turn. The chair that was empty yesterday is occupied by a guy with glasses so thick that behind them, his eyes look like raisins. Tight, wiry springs of hair point in every direction. He smells like wet wool.
“Go ahead, Zeke,” says Ms. Harrington.
Zeke talks excitedly. “There’s this sense you get from the textbook that the reason Europeans set off in search of spices was that the Turks were evil and had cut off their trade route. In actuality the Turks had every reason to keep those trade routes open—I mean, it was all about making money, right? So it felt to me like something was missing. Know what I mean?”
I do not know what he means. Not even a little bit.
From the back of the room, Adam chimes in. “It was actually the Portuguese fleet that blocked trade along the old route because they controlled the new route that went around Africa. So the Turks had nothing to do with it, but I agree, they were made out in the textbook to be bad guys.”
“Excellent points,” says Ms. Harrington. “Do the rest of you see what I’m looking for?” She asks the class, but looks at me. Somewhere in my ancient reptilian brain my autonomic nervous system recognizes that in order to survive I must nod.
“Great,” says Ms. Harrington.
When class ends, I shove my notes into my book bag like I want to hurt them. So much for impressing Adam. For the biography project I will learn everything there is to know about Benedict Arnold. I’ll read about his strategies during battle. I’ll study up on his early family life. I’ll find out what he liked to eat for breakfast. Adam and I will meet after cheer practice at the library. Or at my house. Yes. I will invite him to my house, and to my room, and there, I will throw facts at him like they are darts whose tips have been dipped in love potion.
People are filing out of the classroom, and I am still collecting my stuff when Ms. Harrington calls Adam to her desk. Zeke is there, twiddling a mud-colored mole on his neck. “Zeke was absent yesterday and missed choosing a biography partner,” says Ms. Harrington. “Everyone is already paired up. Would you mind letting him join your team?”
Adam looks lost. I plead with him telepathically: Say no! Say no! We need to be alone, Adam! Just you and me in the library, in my kitchen, in my bedroom, talking about George, Benedict and us. Say no!
Finally, he replies, “We should really check with my partner, Nora.”
Ms. Harrington raises her eyebrows. “Nora? Would you mind adding another person to your team? It would really help me out.”
Beside me, Highlights smiles sweetly. “There’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women.”
I force a smile. “No problem.”
Zeke squints, exposing rabbitlike front teeth as he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “Thanks.” He gloms on to Adam for help with what he missed yesterday.
Beside me, Highlights sniggers. “Nothing like a threesome.”
Twelve
VANESSA CATCHES UP WITH ME on the way out of class. “Look,” she says flatly. “You might want to wait to take this class. I can’t imagine having taken it anytime before my junior year. It’s a ton of work and Harrington is a real ballbuster. Plus you have cheer taking up way too much time.”
Did I really seem that clueless? If I had hackles, they would rise. “I can handle the work. I didn’t know about the other reading, that’s all.”
“Well, if you decide to stick it out, you can e-mail me if you need anything. My contact stuff is on the cheer roster. I love history. And I’d be happy to help.”
It occurs to me that this is our first real conversation. I’ve sort of avoided Vanessa, afraid of what Chelsey would think of me if she thought we were friends. Maybe that’s been a mistake. “Thanks. Maybe I could help you with your Herkie jump sometime?”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “I’d like to ram a Herkie jump up Chelsey’s—never mind. I’m just counting the days until cheer is over. I hate it.”
I stop walking. She despises cheer. And Chelsey isn’t crazy about her. “So why do you do it?”
Vanessa studies something invisible on the back of her hand, then looks away. “It’s complicated. Sometimes you just don’t have a choice. Let’s go.” She continues walking. “So, practice starts late today, right?”
“Yeah, there’s some big teachers’ meeting about homecoming. Sports teams, after-school clubs—everything is pushed back a half hour. I figured I would just hang out in the commons. Want to come?”
She laughs. “No, thanks. I’ve seen who you hang out with. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you and your ‘salami’ twin have really latched on to the cheer squad dimwits. I mean, they’re popular as hell, but—” She hesitates. “You seem smarter than that.”
She backpedals at the look on my face.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. Obviously you get something out of hanging out with them. Who knows, maybe I’m just jealous.” She smiles. “I’m going to kill time in the library. I meant what I said—let me know if you need help with history.”
Big, wet clouds accumulate in my brain as I make my way to the commons. Is she just jealous? What’s wrong with being popular? Am I smarter than that?
I find the commons packed with people waiting for their after-school activities to start. I narrowly avoid the soccer guys, who stand in a misshapen circle playing hacky-sack with an orange. And I steer clear of Mitch, who sneaks around like a tabloid paparazzo, snapping pictures for the yearbook.
“Nora!” Krista sits at a table by the drink machines with Dex. She is beaming. He is beaming. They are always beaming. I fully expect them to be married the day after Krista and I graduate. They’ve been dating since Krista was twelve and Dex was thirteen, when they met at some church camp. Krista has their future all mapped out. They’ll have six kids. Dex will be a very tall accountant. Krista will be a very short super-mom. She’ll take her kids on crazy outings and make homemade bumbleberry jam. My mother must not, for any reason, be allowed to make a speech at their wedding.
“Hey, how’s it going, Nora?” Dex grins and his braces, which he’s also had since he was thirteen, dominate the landscape. Krista says that she pines for the day that he doesn’t taste like a box of paper clips when they kiss.
“It hasn’t been a great day.” I slump into a chair.
Krista rubs my arm. “AP biology?”
I stiffen.
“Poor baby.”
“Well, I think your day is about to get a whole lot better.” Dex lifts his eyes toward someone behind me. I spin around. Jake approaches with a gait like a gorilla that has just sniffed out a mother lode of bananas.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” he says.
“I was right here.” Dex, with a wide smile, opens his arms for a hug.
“Not you!” Jake balls up a napkin from a nearby table and hurls it at Dex. Krista giggles. Jake pulls out the chair closest to me, spins it so it’s facing backward and sits. “So, I’ve been trying to catch you alone but it hasn’t worked out. So I’ll just go ahead and ask you right now.”
Jake Londgren’s face is less than eight inches from mine. His jaw is wide and angled. His eyes sit close to the bridge of his nose, giving him an almost pantherlike appearance. He is strong and powerful, and there isn’t a girl at Riverbend who wouldn’t want to be his prey.
It stinks that in the brains department he’s at least three yards short of a first down.
And he is not Adam.
Krista claps her hand to her mouth. Jake fidgets in his chair. For the first time ever he looks a little unsure of himself. “I didn’t want to ask you too early, but at the same
time I want to make sure I beat all those other losers to the punch.” Jake punches his fist into his open hand. “So, what do you think about going with me to the homecoming dance?”
What do I think? What do I think?! I think that I want to go to the homecoming dance with Adam.
“We’ll double-date!” squeals Krista.
“Well?” says Jake. He thrums his wide fingers on the back of the chair. “Your move.”
An interesting way to put it. It is my move, isn’t it? Benjamin Franklin would tell me to make my move with foresight, circumspection and caution.
Foresight: Going to the dance with Jake Londgren will shoot my popularity quotient through the roof. It’ll make Krista deliriously happy. Chelsey will probably crown me future Queen of the Monarch butterflies.
Circumspection: Adam was so sweet the day we first met. He was so sweet by my locker—until he realized I’m on cheer. And even with his poor opinion of cheerleaders and my boneheaded maneuvers that keep proving him right—he’s still been really nice to me in class.
But he’s nice to everyone. He carries injured girls’ books to class. He picks up dropped notebooks. He saves lives. And he is not going to the dance because the only girl he would want to go with is unavailable.
Tallulah is pretty and smart and a senior, and she’ll be at a wedding during homecoming. She is undeniably unavailable.
I, on the other hand, am available. I am so available. If only Adam knew how available I am!
Caution: Wouldn’t it make my chances with Adam even worse if I went to the dance with Jake, and Adam found out? Yes, but if Adam is not at the dance, he won’t know I was there with Jake. And at the dance, I would make it clear to Jake that we’re just friends. No damage done.
Mr. Franklin, I am ready to make my move.
I smile at Jake. “I—”
Click! A flash of bright white light leaves me temporarily blinded.
“I think what Nora is trying to tell you, Jake, is that you need to take the sucker’s walk to the far end of the field because she’s already agreed to go to the homecoming dance with me.” Mitch stands inches from the table, his camera still pointed at my face.
Jake shakes his thumb toward Mitch. “You agreed to go to the dance with this freak?”
Krista’s jaw is slack. “You did?”
I swallow hard and manage a squeak. “I did?”
Mitch does a bug-eyed wink. “Remember? I asked you when you stopped by the attendance office. And you said yes.”
There is an interminable moment of silence before Jake erupts into laughter. Krista and Dex join in. Jake slips an arm over my shoulder. “That’s a good one,” he says. “You and this flea going to the dance together. Hah!”
It is soon apparent to everyone at the table, even Jake, that Mitch and I are not laughing. One look at Mitch’s eyes, narrowed beneath his invisible eyebrows, and I know the deal: I try to worm my way out of the homecoming dance, he tells the world about our swap. Adam would peg me as desperate and I would never stand a chance with him, ever.
Mitchell may be a flea, but he is not the only lowlife in the room. My wings begin to recede as I return to my larval state. Perhaps we were made for each other.
The laughter fizzles out. “It’s true.” My voice breaks. “Mitch asked me and I said yes.”
Jake pushes back from the table and holds up his hands in surrender. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. This little flea, this head lice, this dust mite—”
“I think vermin is the broad category you’re looking for,” I say.
“This vermin beat me to the punch?” He drops his arms. His hand curls into a fist.
“And you said yes?” God, the look on Krista’s face! I’m going to the dance with him, not marrying him.
My eyelids drift closed. “I guess I did.”
When I open my eyes, Dex shakes his head like I’ve been given a terminal diagnosis. And I have. Terminal unpopularity.
Mitch does not look like the cat that got the canary. He looks like the cat that got the forty-eight-pound turkey. He pumps his elbows and does this vulgar little hip thrust. The camera hanging around his neck bounces on his chest and nearly knocks the wind out of him. “Ciao,” he says, “wear something extra hot,” and he swaggers away.
Jake, Krista and Dex stare at me. I want to cry. I want to throw up. I want to be the size of a chess piece and jump into my own pocket. The commons has mostly cleared out. There’s a squashed orange on the floor where the soccer guys were.
Krista glares at me. “You didn’t bother telling me, your best friend, that you’re dating the biggest leech at school?” Her face is stony.
“I’m not dating him!”
No one cares. Jake crosses his arms hard over his chest. His biceps bulge. “Have a good time on your date.” He spits out the word date like it’s a broken tooth.
I walk to the locker room alone.
Hey, hey, what do you see?
A PQ that’s a minus three
Hey, hey, what do you know?
Nora’s future’s looking low
Hey, hey, what do you say?
Nora’s wings have gone away
Homecoming will be a complete bust. Jake hates me. I’ve completely pissed off Krista. I am going to be seen in public with Mitch. And what if Adam hears about it and thinks there’s something going on between me and Mitch? Crappiest-crap-of-all-time! How did things go so wrong?
We spread out in a circle near the bleachers and Chelsey leads us in stretches. We play a few rounds of Simon Says—Simon Says Touchdown stance! Simon Says High V! K-Motion! I mess up every time. Krista shows up late, and when I step back to make room for her in the circle, she squeezes into a nonexistent space between Becca and Jazmine instead.
We jog a few times around the track, then run stairs, sprinting to the top of the bleachers and quick-stepping back down. Krista keeps her distance. I pause at the top step and catch my breath. Down below, on the football field, Jake is doing a drill where he hurls his body against a padded, movable post and it looks like he wants to kill the thing.
On the track, Chelsey presses the megaphone to her mouth. “Come on, girls! Faster! Lift those knees!” It’s hard to run, let alone move, with your stomach twisted in knots. I stop halfway down the bleachers to catch my breath beside Vanessa, who’s doubled over, also breathing hard.
I manage to pant out a sentence. “Are you okay?”
“This”—pant, pant, pant—“sucks.”
We spend the entire practice working on the cheer that Chelsey has chosen for the homecoming halftime show. “This is going to be the best homecoming game ever!” she assures us. “The guys are super stoked, the snack bar is selling football-shaped cookies and marshmallow pom-poms, and—”
Vanessa drifts into the conversation like a rain cloud. “I heard Coach Avery is actually kind of freaked out because Highline has this whole new defensive strategy and they’re expected to shut us down by halftime.”
Chelsey glares at Vanessa. “Well. Then we’re just going to need to cheer a little bit harder, aren’t we.”
Vanessa waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just saying.”
If Krista were standing beside me, we’d talk in a gossipy whisper about the Vanessa-Chelsey dynamic. Instead, I look over at Krista and when she catches my eye, she stabs the toe of her shoe into the grass. I should have told her about the Mitch thing. But she’s been so intent on me hooking up with Jake that even when I’ve tried to talk about Adam she has shut me down. She would have given me three hundred yards of crap if she knew I’d swapped a date with Mitch to get into Adam’s classes. I guess it doesn’t take a genius IQ to see that it wasn’t my best move ever—a move that turns out to have been a little thin in the foresight department. But I never thought the “date” would be the homecoming dance! I didn’t think anyone would ever need to know.
Chelsey huffs at Vanessa’s remark, then smooths her tank top over her stomach and tucks a loose strand of hair into a clip at t
he back of her head. “Like I was saying. The homecoming game is our most important one of the entire season for—” Chelsey counts silently on her fingers, then gives up. “For a whole bunch of reasons. First. Everyone will be at the game watching us. Everyone!
“Second. The football players are counting on us to get that ginormous crowd cheering. And three . . .” She bites her bottom lip and widens her eyes. You would think she was about to reveal the age-old secret to the perfect pike jump. “You guys—I heard a rumor that the coach from Louisville will be here to watch us cheer!”
Chelsey hoots and does, in fact, demonstrate the perfect pike jump.
Becca looks reverently at Chelsey. “She’ll see you in action and snap you up on the spot for the Louisville squad!”
“You’re going to college nationals!” squeals Jazmine.
Chelsey throws her arms over her head, hoots and gyrates her hips, then turns serious. “Well, I can’t do it alone. That coach needs to see that we are the best cheer squad ever! So let’s hammer this thing!”
Chelsey teaches us dance steps she found on YouTube from last year’s nationals. She demonstrates with Becca a cool move where she slides behind Becca, they hook elbows and Becca rolls over her back. We partner up and I try it with Vanessa. It’s like rolling a corpse over my back. Then there are a few more twists, spins and jumps. We try it again. And again. Chelsey is super smooth as she glides through the steps. We do the whole thing as a group, and eventually even Vanessa gets it. Chelsey may not be the fluffiest pom-pom in the locker, but she really knows how to lead the squad. I shudder to think how we would do if we ever had to cheer a game without her.
Chelsey wants to finish with a tumbling routine, and it would be the perfect addition if I could get it right, but I just can’t concentrate. There’s Krista, talking behind her hand to Gillian, whose eyes bug out in response. There’s Jake, standing with a crowd of guys. He points at me and says something. They laugh. How long will it be until everyone in school knows about me and Mitch?
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