Stacey and the Cheerleaders (9780545768320)

by Martin, Ann M.

  “I hear this movie is really funny,” RJ said. “Marty saw it.”

  “I like Todd Byron,” I replied, mentioning one of the stars. “He’s a great actor, even in serious movies. Did you see My Only Girl?”

  RJ shook his head. “Uh-uh. I guess I like movies that make me laugh, you know? And they have to have a plot.”

  “I know what you mean. I like mysteries. Did you see —”

  “Also action films,” RJ barged on. “Car chases and stuff. I like them. I don’t know why, I just do. You sure you don’t want some of this?” He held out the caramel corn.

  “No, thanks.”

  RJ shrugged, stared at the blank screen, and started munching away. I took a handful of my popcorn.

  Everyone seemed to be talking but us. I hate when I’m getting to know someone and the conversation goes nowhere. I don’t know whether to feel bored or boring. “So,” I said, “who are you playing tomorrow?”

  Ta da. RJ came to life. Talking about basketball, he was funny and easygoing. He was explaining something called sudden-death overtime when Mall Warriors II began.

  I hadn’t seen Mall Warriors I, and I was a little concerned I might have missed something.

  Well, I didn’t need to worry. A three-year-old could have followed the plot. It was about a group of teens who booby-trap a mall to catch a pair of world-famous mall thieves.

  Personally, I found it amazingly dumb. I couldn’t wait for it to end. But RJ laughed a lot. This was not a good sign.

  After it was finally over, RJ turned to me with a huge smile and said, “What did you think?”

  Under my down coat, I was sweaty. My neck hurt from craning to see around the hair mountain in front of me. The movie hadn’t made my top-ten list by a longshot. And I’d spent two hours deciding that RJ and I had nothing in common.

  I had to be honest. “I didn’t really like it,” I said.

  RJ’s face was a little curious, a little concerned, and (I think) a little annoyed. “Yeah? Oh, that’s too bad, Stace. You should have told me. We could have snuck out.”

  “It’s okay, RJ. I mean, I still had fun —” Okay, I was stretching it.

  “Hey, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat,” RJ suggested, his face suddenly brightening. “How about Pizza Express?”

  I have about three or four favorite places to eat in Stoneybrook. Pizza Express is not one of them. (It’s okay. It’s just not my fav.) But I was dying to get out of that theater. “Sure,” I said.

  In the lobby, RJ called his dad to let him know where we were going. I stretched my legs and let myself air out.

  Sabrina saw me again and waved. She had that envious look in her eyes. Somehow, it didn’t affect me the way it had earlier. I was busy evaluating my date. I gave it a 3 on a scale of 1 (worst) to 10 (best). RJ was okay in some ways, but I had a feeling we weren’t made for each other.

  I felt depressed as we walked out of the theater. I guess I had built the date up too much in advance.

  Well, guess who was in Pizza Express that night? The Group. Just about the entire cheerleading squad and the basketball team, taking up four tables and having a great time.

  “Hey, Blasemeister!” Marty Bukowski called out to RJ.

  “The Bukeman!” RJ returned.

  RJ took my arm and we walked to Marty’s table. Everyone turned to us and said hi. I have never seen so many toothpaste-ad smiles in my life. Sheila was pulling over a couple of chairs from a nearby empty table.

  Boy, was my mood changing. A few days earlier, none of these kids would have given me a second look. Now they were moving aside to let me sit down.

  RJ did a few high-fives and low-fives, then introduced me all around. No one seemed to care how loud we were, not even the owner of Pizza Express. In fact, as we sat down he personally came over to take our orders.

  “So,” Sheila whispered, “did you have a good time?”

  I glanced at RJ, who was deep in conversation with another player across the table, Robert Brewster. In a low voice, I said, “Yeah, except the movie was kind of dumb.”

  “Sometimes that’s better,” she said with a giggle.

  I knew what she was implying. She figured RJ and I had spent the whole time kissing.

  I didn’t know how to answer her. Would I sound dorky if I said nothing had happened?

  Maybe I was supposed to have been kissing RJ. Maybe he brought me to a bad movie on purpose, so our attention wouldn’t be distracted from each other.

  But he hadn’t even tried to kiss me. I wondered why. Was I that boring? Did he find that awful movie more interesting than I was? Should I have made the first move?

  Easy, Stacey, I told myself. This is not a big deal.

  “I didn’t like that movie either,” announced Corinne Baker, who was sitting next to Robert across the table. “Sequels are never as good as originals.”

  “Never,” I agreed.

  “Also the acting seemed, like, amateurish,” Corinne continued.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  Sheila shrugged. “I didn’t notice. I was too busy watching Todd Byron — or else I had my eyes closed.”

  She giggled, and Marty gave her ribs a nudge.

  “Sheila,” Corinne scolded. “You don’t have to embarrass Stacey!”

  “I’m not embarrassed,” I replied.

  “Corinne, I’m sure she’s kissed guys before,” Sheila said. “Right, Stacey?”

  “Sure,” I answered. (Yes, it’s true.)

  Corinne seemed surprised. “Oh. It’s just that — well, I didn’t think the girls in your … you know, crowd —”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You know,” Corinne went on. “Those girls you hang with. The baby-sitters. Some of them are so young.”

  I realized she’d seen me with Jessi and Mallory in school. “Well, a couple of them are, but most of us are eighth-graders.”

  “Uh-huh.” Corinne didn’t sound impressed.

  “Don’t be such a snot, Corinne,” Sheila snapped. “I mean, we all go through that stage. You did, too.”

  That stage? Was I going through a stage? Was baby-sitting something you grew out of? I never thought of it that way. Older girls baby-sat.

  Before I could say anything, the pizza arrived. “Help yourself, guys,” RJ offered to the others. “We can always order another.”

  RJ, Marty, Robert, and I all reached for slices. My piece and Robert’s were stuck together. As we pulled them apart, the cheese made a gooey bridge.

  “Oops!” Robert laughed as he pulled the cheese apart.

  Whoa.

  Cute Alert. Four alarms.

  I hadn’t taken a close look at his face before. He had dark brown hair that fell over his forehead, dimples, and a smile that should have had a DANGER sign on it.

  I smiled and looked away. I didn’t want Corinne to think I was after Robert. She was sitting next to him, so I figured they were together.

  Well, Robert’s eyes stayed on mine much longer than mine did on his. (Hmmmm …)

  “Uh-oh, look who’s coming,” Marty murmured.

  Jason Fox, who’s in my math class, was walking toward us with two friends. “Hey, guys, good luck with the game tomorrow night.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” RJ said.

  Jason nodded and raised his fist in the air. “We’re number one! Yeah!”

  As he left the restaurant, Sheila burst into giggles. “What a dork.”

  “Hey,” RJ said, “leave him alone. He comes to all the games.”

  Margie Greene leaned over from the next table. “Yeah, and stares at all of us. He doesn’t care about basketball.”

  “Are you going to be there, Stace?” Corinne asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it!” I said. “The whole — all my friends will be there.” I had almost said the whole Baby-sitters Club, but decided against it.

  “We’ll be doing some new cheers,” Sheila explained. “Tell us if you like them.”

  “Okay.”
>
  “Carbo-loading, eh, guys?” boomed the voice of Mr. Blake, an SMS teacher.

  “Yo, Mr. Blake!” Marty stood and gave him a high-five.

  “I guess I found the place where the stars eat, huh?” Mr. Blake remarked.

  We laughed. All of us “stars.”

  My rating for the night was rising. So what if the date hadn’t been perfect?

  It felt good to be in the limelight.

  “A tisket! A tasket!

  Put it in the basket!

  Who’s the best? SMS!

  Yaaaaaay, team!”

  I’d never been so excited about a sports event. Just hearing the cheerleaders practice made my heart flutter.

  It was Saturday night, about fifteen minutes before the game. Mary Anne, Logan, Jessi, Kristy, and I had just walked into the gym. We were going to watch the game, then us girls were going to have a sleepover at Kristy’s.

  My friends were calm and happy. Me? I was a wreck.

  Maybe it was because I actually knew everyone on the basketball court now. I was feeling nervous for them.

  Sheila was perfecting her split. Darcy was figuring out moves with Penny Weller. RJ and Malik were shooting balls a zillion feet away from the basket — and getting them in. Robert was dribbling another ball while Marty tried to bat it away. (What an expression — dribbling. You expect to see a trail of saliva. Why don’t they just say “bouncing”?)

  The gym was starting to fill up. Logan found seats for us near midcourt. I tried to catch Sheila’s eye, but she’d started talking to Marty. The two of them looked soooo in love.

  I pictured myself in her place. Imagine some big hunkified guy singling me out like that, in front of hundreds of people.

  Sigh.

  My eyes moved right to Robert. I don’t know why.

  “Chips? Malted milk balls?” Leave it to Claudia. She was already offering us junk food. Her shoulder bag was crammed with it.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a bag of pretzels.

  Corinne looked our way, just as I was stuffing my face. I waved and she gave me a smile.

  I could see her eyes move from Jessi to Claudia to Kristy to Mary Anne, then quickly look away. Suddenly I didn’t want those pretzels anymore.

  I wondered what Corinne was thinking. What would I have thought if I were Corinne? Claud was rummaging around for snacks, wearing an outfit that suddenly seemed a little weird (a sequined vest over a man’s white shirt and bell-bottomed spandex pants). Kristy was gesturing around the court with a potato-chip bag as she lectured Mary Anne about the rules of basketball. Mary Anne looked pale and washed-out (and bored) in the bright lights. And Jessi — well, Jessi was acting like an eleven-year-old.

  “This is so cool,” she squealed. “I hope it goes into overtime so I can stay up really late.”

  Now, there’s nothing wrong with saying something like that. I’d have felt the same way at that age.

  But somehow it bothered me — just the way our pigging out did, and Claudia’s outfit, and Kristy’s lecturing.

  I shrugged it off. After all, your friends are your friends. Why should I be ashamed of them? That would be true snobbishness, and I was not going to behave that way!

  Before long the players left the court. The cheerleaders sat on a bench, and the gym quieted down. Then a voice over the loudspeaker boomed out: “Welcome to Stoneybrook Middle School, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight the SMS Chargers will play the Sheridan Wildcats!”

  Well, I thought I would lose my hearing. The gym exploded with cheers.

  It turned out to be the first explosion of many. What an exciting game! Sheridan was a good team, better than we’d expected. Whenever they were ahead of SMS, I felt my stomach knot up. Then the cheerleaders would go wild. The rest of us would join in their cheers, at the top of our lungs. Even Mary Anne was screaming.

  By halftime I was hoarse. My shin ached, too. I had banged it during a huge group hug with my friends, when RJ got a basket right at the buzzer.

  The second half? Oh my lord, talk about tense. Neither team could keep the lead. Sheridan pulled ahead, then Stoneybrook. My fingernails were ragged. My stomach was a mess. I thought Kristy was going to have a heart attack. Mary Anne almost cried a couple of times.

  I was having “deep identification.” That’s what my English teacher would have called it. She’s always asking if we identify with any characters in the books we’re reading. I feel so frustrated when I don’t. Well, during this game I was identifying like crazy. When Marty fell and hurt his ankle, I grimaced. When Robert made a basket from far away, I felt ecstatic. And the cheerleaders? I think I’d memorized every move. I could swear my legs hurt from their splits.

  Toward the end of the game, the players began losing their tempers. RJ collided with a Sheridan player and started a fight. Robert had to pull RJ away and calm him down. The SMS coach, Mr. Halvorsen, got into a shouting match with the referee. With three seconds to go, the game was tied.

  What happened next? A Sheridan player threw the ball, Wayne McConville grabbed it and passed it to Malik. Malik threw it and … SWISH!

  “Game is over! Stoneybrook is the winner by ONE POINT!” Whoever was on the loudspeaker was practically shrieking.

  You would have thought it was the end of the championships. The stands emptied. We poured out onto the court. It was pandemonium. Absolute, total, utter chaos. Even teachers and parents were hugging each other and screaming. I could see Mr. Blake clapping Malik on the back. RJ and Robert had lifted Wayne McConville onto their shoulders. Marty ran to Sheila and swept her off her feet (literally). The rest of the cheerleaders had given up doing organized cheers. They were just jumping up and down, flinging their pompoms around. Jason Fox was performing a little victory dance under the basket.

  I ran up to Darcy, who was the nearest cheerleader. “Congratulations!” I called out.

  She didn’t hear me over the noise.

  That was when Robert passed by. He and Wayne were talking and laughing. “Robert!” I yelled.

  “Oh, hi!” (Wow, was that smile a killer.) “Good game, huh?”

  “You were great!” I replied.

  “Thanks.”

  I did it. I hugged him. I didn’t plan it, it just happened. It didn’t mean anything, really. Everybody was hugging. Besides, he was so sweaty it was kind of gross.

  But only kind of.

  As he disappeared into the crowd, I looked around for Corinne. She was nowhere to be seen. Whew.

  I tried to elbow my way closer to the cheerleaders, but it was hopeless. An enormous crowd had formed around them and the players.

  I hung out on the edge of the throng, babbling away with anyone I knew. After awhile, people began to leave. I found myself inching closer to Robert, who was now wiping his face with a towel and talking to the coach.

  Phweeeeeet!

  A piercing whistle rang out from the stands. The noise level dropped. Faces turned toward the sound.

  It was Kristy, standing about halfway up the bleachers, looking directly at me. “Stacey, are you coming to the sleepover or not?” she yelled. “Charlie’s outside with the van!”

  Gulp.

  I could hear snickering. Someone said, “A sleepover? Oh, goody!” in a childish voice.

  I was cringing. I was melting.

  Thank you, Kristy Thomas.

  But what could I do? I did want to go to the sleepover. I nodded nonchalantly to Kristy and began heading for the door.

  On my way out, I did not dare look in the direction of the cheerleaders. Or Robert.

  * * *

  I brooded all the way to Kristy’s. But I got over it. Especially when I saw Watson in the kitchen wearing a tall chef’s hat and a spotless apron. He was carrying a rolling pin in one hand, a kitchen knife in the other, and a huge grin was on his face.

  On the table was the hugest spread of food you ever saw — sliced cold cuts, loaves of bread, veggies and dip, and fresh fruit.

  Our mouths dropped open. We were ravenous. I
t took all I could do to keep from … well, dribbling.

  “That’s beautiful!” Claudia exclaimed.

  “You made this?” Kristy looked absolutely shocked.

  Watson raised an eyebrow. “Hey, it was a tough job, but somebody had to do it.”

  Kristy’s mother breezed in. “Hey, kids, how was the —” She took a look at Watson, then us, and burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Kristy asked. “Look at all the work Watson did —”

  “Yeah,” Mrs. Brewer said between giggles. “He really strained his fingers calling the deli on the phone and placing the order!”

  Watson grinned and shrugged.

  “Ooooh …” With a sly smile, Kristy picked up a strawberry and reared back as if to throw it.

  “Okay!” Watson cried. “I’m out of here!”

  We were cracking up. I always thought Watson was bland and serious, but I guess everyone has a goofy side.

  Anyway, we dug in to the platter. The food was delicious (and nothing was sugary — thank you, Watson). We gabbed a mile a minute about the game. We laughed, we gossiped, we made a total mess.

  It turned out to be one of our best sleepovers ever. And I realized something. I had some of the best friends ever.

  Sheila was standing outside homeroom on Monday morning. So were Darcy and Penny. They were looking at me with humongous smiles, as if they’d been waiting for me.

  Darcy and Penny were not in my homeroom. I had no idea what they were doing there.

  As I walked closer, they turned to each other and giggled.

  Uh-oh.

  They were going to torment me. That’s what this was all about. They were going to laugh about the sleepover. I almost ran off.

  But no. I held my chin high. If they were going to act that way, I’d just march right past them into the room.

  “Stacey, you are going to die!” Sheila exclaimed.

  Huh?

  I stood there, staring. I must have looked like a department-store mannequin.

  They started giggling again. Sheila whispered to Darcy, “You tell her.”

  “Why do I have to? Darcy replied.

  “She’s your friend, Sheila,” Penny said.