Brunettes Strike Back

by Kieran Scott

  “Sounds good,” she replied. “Save me a seat.”

  Some of the girls were already chowing down in the kitchen and they all shouted greetings as I walked by. Hyper city. Sage was once again gabbing with Lindsey and I purposely tuned them out. If she was talking about Daniel again, I did not want to know. I was paranoid enough already. I headed outside and took a chair next to Autumn at the glass-topped patio table. Birds were chirping in the palm trees and I leaned back and took a long, deep breath.

  “You’re such a morning person,” Phoebe said grumpily as she plopped down across from me. She took a swig of her coffee and rested her chin on her hand. “If you start humming or something, I may have to kill you.”

  “No humming, got it,” I said, grabbing a couple of pancakes from the platter in the center of the table.

  “More juice, anyone?” Chandra asked, emerging from the kitchen with a carton of Tropicana. “Or we’ve got tomato, apple, pineapple.”

  “I’ll take some, thanks,” I said. Chandra poured me a cup and set it in front of me.

  “Let me know if you guys need anything else,” she said perkily.

  “Okay, I may have to kill her too,” Phoebe said, slumping further.

  “Who knew Chandra was the hostess with the mostest?” I said. I doused my pancakes with syrup and took a slug of juice. There is nothing I love better than a big, sugary breakfast.

  “Well, she does help out with her mom’s catering company,” Autumn said. “I think this morning she just flipped into ‘the customer is always right’ mode.”

  “Or maybe it’s just ‘I want to be captain next year’ mode,” Erin said, pulling her thick blonde braid over her shoulder as she grabbed a few pancakes. She ripped a chunk off of one and stuffed it into her mouth. “She’s kissing butt.”

  I stopped chewing and looked at her. Geez. Tell us how you really feel.

  “What?” she asked, brown eyes wide. “You don’t think she’s hosting all these sleepovers and having her mom whip up these incredible meals and everything for a reason?”

  “Erin!” Autumn hissed, glancing over her shoulder. “We’re not supposed to be talking about this.”

  “Whatever,” Erin said. “You know you’re all thinking about it. Everyone at this table has been trying to figure out who they’re gonna vote for ever since the props box.”

  “Not me, really,” I said. “Are you gonna run?”

  “Maybe,” Erin said with a shrug, popping a strawberry into her mouth.

  “So what’s your platform?” Phoebe asked with a yawn. “You want to be captain, you gotta have a platform.”

  “Leadership ability,” Erin said. “Jaimee’s too wishy-washy. I love the girl, but it takes her fifteen minutes to decide on a lip gloss. And Chandra is cool, but I don’t know if she could really take charge. I would take charge.”

  “Take charge? What ever happened to democracy?” Autumn asked. “Personally I think we’ve been suffering under a dictatorship for long enough.”

  Felice snorted a laugh from behind her book.

  “No offense,” Autumn said to Phoebe, one of Tara’s closest friends.

  “Not a problem,” Phoebe replied, yawning again.

  “But it works, doesn’t it?” Erin asked. “We are going to nationals.”

  No one could argue with that point. Although I wasn’t entirely sure that it was Tara’s leadership skills that had gotten us there. Whenever the going got tough, Tara seemed to blame everyone around her but herself.

  “Well, I’m going to go get some more coffee,” Erin said, standing. “Anybody want some?”

  Phoebe silently held up her drained mug and Erin snatched it as she went by. I looked at Autumn and placed my fork down on my plate.

  “That was brave,” I said.

  “Well, it’s how I feel,” Autumn replied. “And if you can’t tell people how you feel, you’re just an empty shell.”

  “Do you really think Chandra wants to be captain?”

  “Oh, I know she does,” Autumn said. “She told me at the beginning of the season. Looks like we have a three-way race on our hands.”

  She grabbed a piece of mango and sat back, pressing her shin against the side of the table. The bells on her anklet chimed as she moved. Together we watched the scene in the kitchen through the glass sliding doors. Chandra grabbed the coffee carafe out of Erin’s hands and insisted on pouring the coffee for her. Meanwhile, from across the room, Jaimee watched them both with interest, even as she babbled on to the other squad members at her table.

  “Maybe we should scrap the gymnastics coach and hire a meditation guru instead,” Autumn said. “Because eventually, this is going to get ugly.”

  Inside the kitchen Erin and Chandra smiled at each other falsely and Jaimee, observing them, opened up her spiral journal and scribbled something down. I had a feeling Autumn’s instincts were dead-on. I just hoped the ugliness would hold off until after nationals. Otherwise Tara was going to show us all just what a dictator she could be.

  5

  “Hey! How my girls doing?” Coach Holmes called out with a bright smile. A few girls cheered in reply. She was waiting in the school parking lot by the open door of our state-of-the-art bus, looking very Beyoncé-on-vacay. Her dyed-blonde hair was back in a high ponytail and she was wearing a light blue track suit. Her dark skin glowed and her eyes were bright. If she were anyone else, I would have thought Red Bull for breakfast, but Coach Holmes was pretty much always on.

  Steven was there as well with his camera at the ready. He was wearing a brand-spanking-new Crabs baseball cap and a red polo shirt.

  “Nice hat,” I told him.

  “Figured I’d get with the program. Show a little school spirit,” he said, touching the bill. “Smile!”

  I grinned, grabbed Mindy around the neck and pulled her toward me. He snapped the picture and checked the screen. “Nice one!”

  A purple spot floated across my vision and Mindy blinked a few times. I just hoped Steven wasn’t too snap-happy for the next few days. Stunts would be problematic if we were all flash-blind.

  “You really need the flash in this weather?” I asked, squinting toward the sun.

  “Oh, oops,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “Probably not.”

  I was glad to see he wasn’t acting all-knowing, all the time. Maybe having him on this trip with us wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Morning, Coach,” I said as everyone lined up to stash their suitcases under the bus. Nationals were held every year right here in Florida, so we only had to endure a short-ish bus ride. Other squads were being flown in from all over the country.

  “Annisa! Looking good!” Coach said in reply, slapping me on the shoulder.

  I glanced down at my outfit—crisp white T-shirt over light blue shorts with a yellow SDH megaphone on the right leg. Actually, I looked pretty much like everyone else on the squad. Coach had insisted that we arrive at nationals looking uniform, and while we were there, we were supposed to show our Sand Dune pride by dressing alike at all times except at dinner. We each had a half dozen similar outfits stashed in our bags.

  “Phoebe! Where’s the energy?” Coach asked as Phoebe hoisted her bag into the cargo hold using two hands.

  “Talk to me around 10 A.M., Coach,” Phoebe said bluntly.

  Coach Holmes laughed. “All right! Let’s get going! Everyone on the bus!” she shouted. “Are we psyched up for nationals?”

  “Yeah!” everyone cheered in response. I saw the paunchy bus driver trying not to laugh.

  “I said, are we psyched up for nationals?” Coach repeated at the top of her lungs.

  “YEAH!” everyone shouted again, this time adding some whoops and hollers.

  “So let’s go!” Coach shouted.

  We started up the steps into the bus and I checked my cell phone quickly, just to see if I had missed a ring. There was nothing. No voice mail. No text messages. No sign of Daniel whatsoever.

  “Tara, how many times have I told you to
change those to’-up socks?” Coach asked, stopping Tara with her hand before she could board the bus. We all looked down at Tara’s ratty feet. The socks were looking almost black around the edges today. “You cannot wear those in the competition.”

  “I know, Coach,” Tara said. “I’m going to wear them under my clean ones.”

  Chandra stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes back, but at least she didn’t have to live with the girl. For some reason Coach had assigned Mindy and me to room with Tara and Phoebe at the hotel. I just hoped Tara kept her feet as far away from me as possible.

  “Forget dictator,” Erin said in my ear. “Try deranged.”

  I laughed and stepped up into the bus.

  “You know what I love!?” Sage announced over the din created by sixteen loud voices, several bleeping cell phones and one portable stereo. “I love that everyone else we know is in class right now!”

  “Omigod, I am so happy not to be sitting in health listening to Mr. Marcal’s lecture about safe sex,” Jaimee said with a fake gag. She, Mindy, Erin and I were all up on our knees, hanging over the backs of our seats so we could chat with the rest of the team. Steven sat in the very back corner, alternately snapping pictures and taking notes.

  “Seriously. I swear the last time that guy got some, the condom hadn’t even been invented,” Whitney put in.

  “Is it just me, or does he start to sweat profusely when anyone mentions the word vagina?” Autumn asked as she wove a tiny braid into her ponytail. “It’s a functional part of the human body. He’s a health teacher.”

  “Ladies! Have some respect for those of us who have dedicated our lives to your education!” Coach Holmes called out from the front of the bus.

  “Or our miseducation,” Tara said quietly, rolling her eyes.

  “Tara!” Coach shouted.

  “Gum, anyone?” Mindy asked, offering a pack. I grabbed a stick as Erin’s cell phone rang. She flipped it open and slid down in her seat.

  “Hey, baby,” she said with a smile.

  “Carlos,” Jaimee said knowingly.

  Erin had been dating Carlos Verde since before I moved to Sand Dune. Aside from Tara and Bobby Goow, they were definitely the most solid couple I knew of. As she cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered sweet somethings into her phone, I pulled mine out and checked for messages one more time. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the text icon flashing. Had Daniel finally sent me a good-luck message? Or maybe Jordan?

  I hit the button and sighed. The text was from my brother, Gabe.

  Gabe: break a leg! will see u there! am home now. got any gel around here?

  Gel? Like hair gel? Since when did Gabe use products? Sometimes I was unsure of whether he even owned shampoo. I wrote him back quickly.

  Annisa: gel in vanity table drawer. don’t use 4 anything weird!!!

  I hit SEND and then quickly turned off my phone, sick of the blank screen mocking me. As Mindy and the others took up the topic of carbs vs. protein, I sat down in my seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery. Nothing but swamps and cows as far as the eye could see.

  Are you my boyfriend or what? my voice played in my head.

  I groaned and put my hand over my eyes, sinking lower in my seat.

  Are you my boyfriend or what?

  I took a deep breath. All right. I was fine. I just had to think about something else. Nationals. We were going to nationals. I started to play the routine over in my head. Music starts. Pop up. First basket toss. Toe-touch. Come down. Formation change. Dance sequence and—

  Are you my boyfriend or what?

  Argh! Suddenly I saw the present me sitting behind the past me in Daniel’s car, slapping my own hand over my mouth from behind before I could say those stupid words. Why couldn’t I have just kept my yap shut? Why couldn’t I ever think before I spoke?

  “Hey!” Steven dropped into the seat next to me. I looked up, confused. I hadn’t even noticed Mindy moving across the aisle. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “That depends,” I said, glancing at the tape recorder in his hand.

  He flushed slightly and pocketed it. “Speak freely.”

  I looked at his open, concerned face and for a moment thought about telling him what had happened with Daniel. After all, he was a guy. Maybe he could give me the male perspective on things. But I had just chided myself for never keeping my mouth shut. Maybe, for once, I should give it a try.

  “I guess I’m just nervous,” I told him, using my fingertip to trace the bus company’s logo on the back of the seat in front of me.

  “Want to borrow my iPod?” Steven asked, producing a sleek silver version from an inner pocket of his denim jacket. “I uploaded the entire Beatles catalog onto it last night. They’re actually pretty good.”

  “Hello? That’s the understatement of the year,” I said.

  “Okay, I get it now!” Steven said with a laugh. “So do you want it?”

  “That’s okay. Maybe later,” I said. “I don’t think I’m in a musical mood right now.”

  “Well, I still have some more questions for your interview,” Steven said. “Let’s get that out of the way.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, okay, sure.” As long as there are no more questions about a certain football player that I’m not going to think about anymore.

  Steven took out his tape recorder again. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  He hit RECORD. “Okay, so we were talking about your best friend Jordan and your squad back in New Jersey,” Steven said. “What do you think they would say if they could see you right now?”

  I looked down at myself and laughed. “They’d probably think I’d joined a cult or something.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, most of them would,” I replied, pushing myself up a little. “We were a team, but everyone was a little bit apathetic about it. Like they were afraid to be too into it because being too into it would make it uncool or something.”

  “What about you?” Steven asked.

  “Oh, I was into it,” I said. “So was Jordan. We had all these plans for when we were seniors. We were going to get new uniforms and try to recruit from the gymnastics team and definitely try to compete.”

  “Cool,” Steven said. “So you’re a take-action kind of person.”

  “I guess,” I said. Sometimes, I added silently.

  But I knew that if Jordan and I were together and leading the squad, we definitely would have changed things. Working together, we were fairly unstoppable.

  I sighed, overcome with sudden nostalgia. Jordan and I had spent an entire summer afternoon poring over cheerleading catalogs, picking out little vests and minis to replace the ages-old sweaters we were forced to wear. When I had e-mailed her a picture of the Sand Dune squad, she had pointed out that we had almost the exact same uniforms she and I had coveted, just in different colors. Suddenly I missed Jordan so much, I could feel my heart trying to tear its way out of my chest.

  “I have to make a phone call,” I said, taking my phone out again.

  “Jordan?” Steven asked.

  “Very observant of you, reporter man,” I said with a smirk.

  He grinned and got up to give me a little privacy. I noticed that my hand was actually quaking a little as I powered up the phone. I had to talk to Jordan about Daniel. Enough was enough already. Jordan would have some kind of advice to make me feel better, like she always did. Making me feel better was practically her calling.

  Finally my phone gave that little trill to tell me it was ready. I was about to hit Jordan’s speed-dial button when the message NO SIGNAL flashed onto the screen.

  I jumped up and turned around. I would not be so easily deterred.

  “Anyone have a signal right now?” I asked. “Well, a signal and national service?”

  “I have national,” Whitney said. “But my battery’s toast.”

  “Anyone else?” I asked.

  There were a bunch of shrugs
and nos. It looked like I was going to have to wait until we got to the hotel for my comfort call.

  “Uh . . . Sage? Hello?” Whitney said, waving her hand.

  “What?” Sage asked blankly.

  “Lend the girl your phone!” Whitney replied.

  “Uh! Fine!” Sage replied. She made a big show of pulling out her phone and flopped her arm dramatically as she handed it over. “Just don’t gab all day,” she said—the first words she had spoken to me since the obnoxiousness of last night. “I need to keep the line open.”

  We get it, I thought. You have a mystery man. Go you.

  “Thanks,” I said sweetly. Then I sat back and dialed Jordan’s number. It rang twice. Three times. Then her voice mail picked up. My spirits drooped.

  “Hey. It’s Jordan. Hit me.”

  “Hey, Jor, it’s me,” I said. “Call me back on my cell as soon as you get this. It’s a code red. Miss you.”

  I hung up and let my hand drop to my lap. So much for that. I glanced down at the phone and saw that Sage had chosen a little butterfly animation as a screensaver. Beneath the flapping wings, the menu button was already highlighted.

  My heart skipped a beat as a wicked idea formed. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that everyone was engaged in a huge debate over the MTV vs. Fuse issue, with Sage at the center.

  Don’t do it, the little angel on my shoulder intoned. Respect the girl’s privacy.

  Come on, it’s no big deal, the devil on the other shoulder prodded. You know you’re dying to know. And besides, she deserves it after her stunning rudeness last night.

  I don’t know if it was because I was in a bad mood or because Sage had been so bitchy from day one or because of how smug she was acting over her man, but for once, I listened to the little devil. I had to know who her secret crush was.

  Heart pounding, I hit the menu button. I scrolled to INCOMING CALLS. I hit the green button and there, right in front of me, was the list of numbers that had called Sage’s cell in the last twenty-four hours.

  Instantly, the entire bus went into a freefall, everyone screaming and crying and clutching their seats for dear life around me.