by Kieran Scott
Daniel looked around, as if at a loss. On the small dance floor a couple of people were swaying to the music. “Do you maybe . . . want to dance?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, pushing myself up. Anything was better than sitting still.
Daniel held on to my hand as we walked over to the dance floor and my heart melted a bit. He didn’t seem to want to let go of me. Would a guy who still wanted to be with his ex behave this way? Doubtful.
“So, you want me to take Tara Timothy down later? Because I will,” Daniel said, placing his arms around my waist.
“Let’s not talk about the squad anymore,” I said.
“Fine by me,” Daniel replied with a tentative smile.
He held me a little closer and we started to step back and forth, turning in a tiny circle on the dance floor.
“So, is everything okay, Annisa?” he asked, sounding strained. “I mean, not with the squad. With us.”
A cold fist of ice closed around my heart. Was he going to tell me about Sage now? Was this his way of broaching the subject?
“Why do you ask?” I said, trying to remain as calm as possible.
“Because, well . . . there’s something I want to say, but it’s gonna sound stupid,” Daniel told me, his voice low. “But if you’re mad at me or something . . .”
“I’m not mad at you,” I said, holding my breath. Whatever this was, I wanted to get it over with. “Just tell me.”
“It’s just . . . I feel . . .”
What? I wanted to shout. What? What do you feel?
“I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my entire life,” Daniel said, then blushed furiously.
I stopped dancing. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. Could he have said anything more perfect? All thoughts of Sage flew right out of my mind.
“Wow.”
And then he smiled, solidifying my first heart attack, and pressed his lips to mine. It was the single most perfect kiss I had ever experienced. In that moment, I wasn’t part of any squad or facing nationals the next day. I wasn’t fighting with anybody. I wasn’t uncertain about a thing. I didn’t even care if he never called me his girlfriend. All that mattered in the world was Daniel. And he had already said it all.
• • •
I floated back to my room on a heart-shaped bubble. Daniel had wished me luck and hit me with another unbelievable kiss before we parted at the elevators. Bethany and Chuck had gone to check out the game room, having found that a great love of Ping-Pong was another thing they had in common. Everything was falling into place.
Of course, the second I opened the door to my room, the bubble burst. Waiting for me were Tara, Mindy, Whitney, Phoebe, Erin, Chandra and Jaimee, all of whom stopped talking when I walked into the room. The lights were dimmed and Tara was flitting about, lighting a bunch of stinky candles that had to be a fire hazard. What now? Were they going to sacrifice me to the cheerleading gods?
“Look who’s here!” Tara exclaimed, placing her lighter wand on the windowsill.
“What’s with the inferno?” I joked, hoping for levity.
“They’re for luck,” Chandra said with a small eye roll.
“Should have guessed.” I dropped my purse and key card on the table by the door. I hovered there, arms crossed over my chest, and waited.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Tara said, hands on her tiny hips.
“Tara, I thought we agreed not to be all sarcastic,” Whitney said, pulling her legs up under her on the bed.
“You agreed?” I said, hot with humiliation. “So . . . what? You’ve all been talking about me all night?”
“It’s not like that,” Mindy said, standing.
“Okay, instead of sarcastic, I’ll be blunt,” Tara said, stepping toward me. Her Badtz Maru nightshirt had developed some kind of stain under one of the arms. “Are you trying to single-handedly take down this squad?”
All the air whooshed out of the room. “What?”
“First there’s the hair. Then you’re late to lunch . . .”
“That was just—”
“Then you stick around after practice not to work on your sorry-ass jumps, but to give the Jersey girls tips?” Tara ranted.
“Hey! They just asked me to—” I paused. “Wait a minute. How did you find out about that?”
“See? I told you guys she never would have admitted it to us. You were going to keep that little piece of subterfuge a secret, weren’t you?” Tara demanded.
“Subterfuge, Tara? Really?” Whitney said.
Tara ignored her, keeping her eyes trained on me. “Too bad for you I overheard some of your big-haired, bad-ass Beavers gushing about how fabulous you are and what a tremendous help you were to them.”
I’ll admit it. I took a moment to feel good about that one. But only a moment.
“And now I hear you ditched dinner tonight to go out with Daniel Healy!” Tara finished, throwing her arms up and letting them slap down at her sides. “Interesting. My boyfriend is here as well, but somehow I managed to tear myself away from him for an hour and eat with the squad. What were you thinking?”
“Well, if you’d let me get a word in, maybe I’ll tell you!” I shouted.
Everyone stared at me. All of them, even Mindy and Whitney, looked expectant. Like they were ready and willing for me to try to explain. How could no one understand this? How could no one see my take on things?
“You know what? Forget it,” I said. “I don’t have to explain myself to you guys.”
“Uh . . . Annisa? I think maybe you should,” Chandra said.
“I thought you were on my side,” I replied.
“I am! About some things,” Chandra replied. “But there are rules. You can’t just do whatever you want. Especially not now.”
“This is nationals,” Erin said.
“If I hear one more person say that!” I said, my shoulder muscles coiling in frustration. “Like I don’t know it’s nationals.”
“Well, you’re kind of not acting like you know it,” Jaimee said, with her apologetic face on. “If you don’t mind me saying.”
“Maybe I do mind,” I said. “God! You guys are supposed to be my friends! We’re not a cult! When I signed on to this squad, I really didn’t think that my wardrobe, my mealtimes and my hair were going to be regulated.”
I knew I was ranting. I did. But I was cornered and angry. I had never felt so abandoned and alone. Part of me wanted to back down. To just let things go back to the way they were. But this had all started when Tara decided unilaterally that I should dye my hair, and that was just wrong. The girl had to know she couldn’t make me change who I was. She had to know she wasn’t in charge of my life. A girl has to have some pride.
“You’re on a team here, Gobooski. You’re either with us or you’re not,” Tara said.
Some friends, I heard Gia say in my mind. Suddenly I felt like a moron for even standing here and taking this from them.
“Annisa, all the rules and the dressing alike and stuff is just for a few days,” Mindy said. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Maybe because I thought I had friends and it turns out I don’t,” I replied. “I’m still an outsider to you guys. The non-blonde chick from Jersey. I heard what some of you were saying about my old squad. That’s what you really think of me, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” Whitney asked.
“That I’m some loser brown-haired thug from a garbage dump,” I replied.
“I apologized for what I said,” Phoebe put in lamely.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you said it,” I replied. “Well, fine. Maybe I am. Maybe with the lateness and the ditching and everything, maybe I’m just being me.”
Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. What did I want? Who did I want to be? Honestly, even I didn’t know anymore, which was kind of freaking me out. Not that I would ever admit it.
“But you know what? Dyeing my hair blonde isn’t going to change
who I am,” I continued. “You either want me the way I am or you don’t. That’s up to you guys to decide.”
“You picked a really bad time to rebel, Annisa,” Tara said.
“I’m not rebelling,” I told her, staring her down. “In fact, for the first time since I’ve been here, I’m just being myself.”
“This isn’t you,” Mindy said.
“Well, maybe you don’t know me,” I snapped, then instantly felt awful about it. Mindy looked away and I did too.
“Look, I think we should just all calm down and get a little sleep,” Chandra suggested, sliding off the bed.
“You’ll feel better in the morning, right, Annisa?” Jaimee said hopefully.
“It’s almost curfew anyway,” Erin said.
Curfew. Great. Another rule. I felt like all this stuff was just piling onto my shoulders, weighing me down.
I looked at all of them, at their disappointed and angry faces. The last thing I wanted to do was to crawl into bed with Mindy, who probably hated me now, and try to sleep in the same room with her and Tara and Phoebe. I didn’t want to feel better in the morning. I wanted to feel better now.
I grabbed my key and whipped the door open.
“Annisa! If you walk out of here, you are in so much trouble!” Tara shouted.
I had no idea what to say in reply. I just knew I had to get away from them. I let the slamming door do the talking.
14
I could hear the laughter and music from all the way down the hall and I knew it was Becca and Gia throwing a little de-stress bash. If anyone knew how to have a good time, it was my old squad. I felt a smile spread across my face as I approached the door to Jordan’s room. The Sand Dune Crabs could learn a few things from the Northwood Beavers. Like how to chill.
One rap on the door and the entire place went silent. I heard shushing and whispering and a few clinks as bottles were stashed under beds. How the heck did these people not get caught more often?
“What’s the password?” Gia Kistrakis asked through the door.
The password? How had I forgotten about the password? “Uh . . . ‘Kiss it’?”
The door flew open and cigarette smoke poured out. “That was the password, like, a year ago, Goober,” Gia said, yanking me inside.
“You could have just checked the peephole,” I said as I coughed up a lung.
“Annisa!” everyone cheered, raising soda cans and plastic cups.
I gave them a little wave and smiled. Donna Morales reached under the bed and pulled out a large, half-full bottle of Southern Comfort and some smaller bottles of brown stuff I didn’t recognize. Becca produced a bottle of vodka and some OJ from under the table. Somewhere in the vicinity was a liquor-store owner who had been taken in by Gia’s seriously bad fake ID.
“You can never be too safe,” Becca said, pushing herself up from the floor.
“Yeah, how do I know you haven’t turned narc on us?” Gia asked. She took a long drag on her cigarette and blew smoke over my head.
“I haven’t,” I told her. Becca held a cup out to me and I lifted my hand. “No, thanks.”
“She hasn’t turned lush either,” Becca joked, causing Gia to snicker.
“Are you sure you guys should be doing this?” I asked as I watched Christine Dent pour vodka into a cup of orange juice. “They have some serious rules and regulations at this thing.”
“Still the goody-goody,” Becca said, hooking her arm over my shoulder and turning me around. “Hey, Jordan! Your partner in innocence is here!”
A couple of girls catcalled me and I just rolled my eyes. I was used to being one of the few non-partiers in this particular crowd. In the past, Jordan, Maria and I had always stuck together at these types of soirees, just hunkering down with our sodas until it was over. Sure enough, Jordan and Maria were playing a game of Spit on the bed near the window with a couple of cans of Sprite nearby. Jordan lifted her chin at me, then went back to playing.
“Want a milk or something?” Gia teased, grabbing herself a cup.
“You need some new material,” I teased back.
“You’re lucky I have a buzz going or I might take offense to that,” she told me.
I laughed and walked over to join Jordan and Maria. Their hands flew as they slapped cards down on the bedspread. Over the last couple of years we had all become serious Spit experts.
“Who’s winning?” I asked, kneeling next to the bed.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jordan asked flatly.
I tried to read her face, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the cards. It was clear Maria was kicking Jordan’s butt. She had far fewer cards in front of her.
“Hey, could I talk to you for a second?” I asked Jordan.
“Kind of in the middle of something here . . . ,” Jordan replied, slapping down card after card.
“Not anymore!” Maria shouted, throwing out her last card and putting her hands in the air. “I win.”
“Ugh!” Jordan dropped what she was doing and flung herself back on the bed. “I’ve totally lost my Spit mojo.”
“I’m gonna get another soda. You guys want?” Maria asked.
“I’m good,” I replied.
“Nah,” Jordan said, sitting up again and straightening the cards. “Wanna play?” she asked me.
“Actually, I kind of want to talk,” I replied. I sat across from her cross-legged. “Is something wrong?”
“With me?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah. Well, no. I mean, between you and me,” I said.
She was concentrating really hard on shuffling the cards. “You tell me.”
“Jordan, come on,” I said. “Something is clearly up. You haven’t looked at me since I walked in here and then there was that face.”
“What face?” she asked, her eyes flashing.
“That face at practice today,” I said. “You looked at me like I was Clay Aiken or something.” I expected her to laugh at the Clay reference, but she didn’t. My heart plummeted. “Jordan?”
“All right, fine,” she said finally, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. “It’s just you’ve been acting so . . . superior.”
I couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d told me she was Clay Aiken. “What?”
“All you ever talk about is your squad and how great they are,” she said with a shrug. “And then we’re here and you’re giving us tips? Like you’re some kind of cheerleading goddess or something all of a sudden?”
“Jordan, please! You know I don’t think I’m all that,” I said. Tired and frustrated tears stung at my eyes. What was going on with everyone lately?
“You sure act like it,” she said under her breath.
“What?”
“It’s like you’ve been on this other squad for a few months and suddenly you’re a whole different person,” Jordan said.
That seemed to be the consensus today. My squad was mad because I refused to be just like them, and now Jordan was mad because she thought I was already too much like them.
I felt like my head was going to spin off like one of those propeller toys from trying to keep track of it all.
“Look, I only gave you guys tips because Becca asked me to,” I said, trying to focus on the one argument I could definitely refute. “I would never have come over there if she hadn’t asked me.”
“She did?” Jordan asked, looking at me squarely for the first time.
“Yeah, I did,” Becca said, stepping up to us. “Are you guys breaking up or something?” she asked, waving her cup around. “’Cause I always thought you made the cutest couple.”
I shook my head at Becca’s lame joke. “See? I was just doing what she asked me to do,” I told Jordan.
“And everyone knows that no one turns me down,” Becca said, taking a sip from her cup. “Well, if they’re smart.”
“Oh,” Jordan said. “Sorry. I guess it was a misunderstanding.”
“It’s okay,” I said, even though it kind of wasn’t. How c
ould she think I would be all high and mighty like that? Jordan knew me better than anyone.
“Hey, Gia! Turn that song up!” Becca called out. She danced away from us, joining the rest of the squad over by the window.
“So was that it?” I asked Jordan. “Was that all that was bothering you? ’Cause I was kind of getting a vibe even before then.”
“Nope, no vibe!” Jordan said, brightening a bit.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m just a little nervous about the competition, that’s all,” she told me. “If I’m vibe-y, that’s all it is.”
She was holding something back. I knew she was. They don’t call us best friends for nothing.
“Well, I—”
Suddenly there was a very loud, very angry-sounding knock on the door. Gia slapped her hand down on the off button on her CD player and everyone else froze.
“Jordan? Gia? It’s Coach Martinez. Open up!”
“Oh, crap!” Becca whispered.
Everyone started shoving cups and bottles back under the beds and into drawers. Maria threw the window open and fanned the drapes to try to clear the room of smoke. Coach knocked again. Everyone was wide-eyed. There was no way that anyone with a brain could miss what had been going on in here. The place was a mess and it reeked.
“We’re so dead,” Becca said. Her eyes fell on me. “Annisa, get out of here.”
“Where do you want me to go?”
Christine opened a door that connected Jordan’s room to the next one and waved me over. I looked at Jordan, who was pale as the sand outside.
“Go,” she said, standing. “If we’re going down, there’s no reason to take you with us.”
I had a sudden vision of Coach Holmes bursting into flame when the officials told her I was disqualified for smoking and drinking. The squad already hated me enough. As irritated as I was with them, I wasn’t ready to throw all our hard work to the wolves.
“Good luck,” I said. Then I slipped out of the room just as Coach Martinez started shouting at the others to open the door.
Christine and I and a bunch of the other girls from the Beavers closed the door behind us and snuck right over to the doorway that led to the hall. Christine opened it noiselessly and I peeked out. Becca had opened the door to their room and Coach looked like she was about to scream.