She had convinced him to give up his fighting secrets, though, on the strength of being that famous young girl running out of a smoking movie theater while someone she loved died for her. Then Vaska had laid down rules, the first of which was to not use her new fighting skills at school.
Yeah, she had blown through that one pretty quick. He still had not forgiven her. So now, fighting lessons were off the table, and Vaska would only teach her ballet. And the one card she had to play to receive his forgiveness—informing him that she’d used her skills to try to prevent an elderly man from being attacked on the street—well, she kept that one behind her back. Sure, if he knew about that, Vaska would relent and go back to teaching her to fight. Telling him would feel too much like bragging or puffing herself up. So now, she was enduring the dance lessons . . . only.
When she wasn’t enduring those lessons, she was enduring wearing a cheerleading uniform. The outfits were new—“contemporary,” Dorete had described them. Maddie thought they were hideous. The traditional uniform with its pleated skirt and sleeveless shirt was bad enough, especially in Colorado. What Maddie had to wear now felt like something more appropriate for a pole dance routine. It had a too-short black skirt with sequins sprinkled throughout like stars in the night sky. Her top had long sleeves but left the midriff with seven inches of exposed skin. The neckline had crisscrossing straps formed into a net accompanying the royal blue of the school’s colors that blended into a pattern on the sleeves.
For days, she had avoided wearing the uniform, but now a game loomed ahead—one in which she would make her debut, which meant she had to wear it to school. She had kept the matching jacket to stave off cold nights, but as she looked in the locker-room mirror, she admitted to herself, This thing really does accentuate my shoulders. She turned to look at herself sideways, then stomped. Ugh! What am I doing?
“That uniform will not get any longer hiding away in here, Madison,” Coach Samson boomed. “Get out there with the rest of the squad.”
Maddie made a less than polite face, but she grabbed her jacket and left the locker room. Coach Samson was outside waiting for her when she exited. “I don’t know why you’re making me wear this when I’m not cheering tonight,” she said as she breezed past her coach.
Coach Samson matched Maddie’s stride as they headed to the football stadium. “For the same reason players on NBA teams show up to the game when they’re not playing: You’re on the team, so you go with the team.”
“Yes, but they get to dress normally.”
“Only if they’re injured, not when they’re on the bench but might have to play.”
Maddie froze. “You’re not making me cheer tonight, are you?”
“Calm down, honeydew. Only if someone gets injured. Your tumbling and cheers are fine, but your dance routines need just a tad bit more work. You’re safe for now. But stop bitching about the uniform. It’s not as if you’re overweight or in danger of popping out.”
Maddie glanced down at her chest. No. No danger there. “I still can’t believe you let Dorete pick these napkins out.”
Coach Samson shrugged. “Half the judges at the cheer competitions are dirty old men, and the other half are dirty old lesbians. They all like skin.”
Maddie’s head whipped around. “Aren’t you, as the adult, supposed to be discouraging us from using our bodies like that?”
“Honeydew, I like to win. They’re all going to be looking at you anyway. Might as well look good for them, especially if it gives us an edge.”
Maddie shook her head. Wow.
As they reached the edge of the stands, Maddie saw Tiffani waving to her from the concession stand that she was manning for tonight’s home game. Maddie veered in her direction. “I’ll be over in a moment, Coach.”
“Don’t worry. We have time.”
Tiffani was still setting up the booth when Maddie reached her. “Hey, Tiff, where you been hiding?”
With no small effort, Tiffani put a large case of bottled water into an ice cooler. “I had to get some tests done at the doctor, including a booster shot.”
“Is everything OK?”
“Yup. I’m cool. It’s all good. Totally copasetic.”
“Ugh, you really need to stop binging on Netflix. You’re like a TV recorder, spitting out whatever you watched the night before.”
Tiffani laughed then stepped from behind the booth. “You mind giving me a hand. Mr. Y Leiro loaded up the bag today.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Maddie followed Tiffani behind the stand. A few feet in back of it ran a small service road that the school’s groundskeepers drove their trucks and electric carts on. A gray van with two large, black duffle bags in front was parked on it. Maddie strained as she picked up one of the bags.
“Lord, what the hell you got in this thing—a body?”
“Nothing so exciting. Mr. Y Leiro likes to put all the sports drinks in the bags rather than cart them in their boxes. Says it allows him to bring more in with less work.”
“Good idea if he was the one out here carrying them and not two of his female students.”
“For reals.”
Maddie stopped and gave Tiffani a look. “For a girl who fights to stay in the middle of the pack socially, you sure are trying your best to end up on the bottom with the rest of the corny people.”
Tiffani stuck her tongue out at Maddie. “Still will be higher than you.”
Maddie placed her bag on a concession stand counter before replying. Striking a wide-eyed, smiling pose, she slipped her jacket off. “But I’m a cheerleader now. My stock is rising.”
“Not with those dance moves, it’s not.”
“Oh, it’s like that.”
“That’s how it be . . . G.”
“Oh God,” said Maddie as she slipped past Tiffani to move back to the front of the stand. She would have to get over to the team soon. She looked through the spaces of the benches she was standing behind to see some of the girls warming up or executing random flips. Then she turned her head and saw Dorete and her besties staring out at the football field. “What are they looking at?”
Tiffani turned her eye to the group and answered with certainty, “They’re watching Aden.”
Maddie imagined that Aden’s new life was as hectic as her own. Coach Branford was working him hard. Aden was given more drills than anyone else on the team. More than once, Maddie had caught him studying his playbook in class rather than reading his textbook. Their teacher, Mr. Bilson, who taught critical thinking, had caught him dozing once, and when Bilson had called him on it, Aden yawned through his apology. Maddie had learned through Coach Samson that he was coming into school early for conditioning.
“Why would they be looking at Aden? Doesn’t Dorete still have a boyfriend?”
“Yes. But you know, he’s old news for now since Aden looks like he will be good. Plus, Aden’s hot.”
“Huh?” squeaked Maddie.
“You don’t think so? I mean, I know you got into a fight with him and all. He can be a jerk, or at least used to be before . . . you showed up.” Tiffani gave Maddie an appraising gaze.
“Don’t give me that look. And no, I don’t think so. Well, I haven’t given it much thought, really. Besides, every time he does something other than attack me, you look annoyed. I thought you hated him.”
Tiffani raised a single eyebrow. “That’s rich coming from you. You appear to be way past frenemies with him. Besides, I’ve got an excuse.” Tiffani swung her gaze from Maddie over to the portion of the field where Aden was stretching. She hummed like she had just eaten something scrumptious. “I hadn’t seen him in those tight pants before. Football has done him some good.”
“Is there a bucket back there? I’m gonna vomit. I’m one second away from projectile hurling.”
“Well, turn around and do it in that direction, ’cause that blonde tiger is looking at Aden like he’s a fat and tasty mouse.”
Sure enough, Dorete’s eyes zeroed in
on Aden like a sniper on a target. It was just the thing Aden would need: moving from taking Andre’s spot on the team, however temporary, to taking his girl. That would go over well.
A whistle sounded off in the distance. Maddie saw Dorete and her hunting party break from their visual stalk of her friend and run toward their designated area behind the team bench. Maddie and Aden had not talked too much in the last couple of weeks, but every time he saw her, he acted like they had been friends forever. It irritated her sometimes but lessened her desire to punch him.
“I gotta go. I guess it’s almost time for my debut.”
“Break a leg,” shouted Tiffani.
“Thanks.”
“No, seriously break a leg so you won’t have to dance.”
Maddie threw up a middle finger, then jogged away at the sound of laughter behind her.
“It’s first and ten at the Sabres’s own thirty-five, after recovering a Timber Wolves fumble. Here’s the lineup, there’s a quick count, and the ball is tossed to number thirty-five, Aden Maier. He’s met at the line of scrimmage, AND HE BLOWS RIGHT THROUGH TWO LINEMEN! A DB is right there to meet him, but he spins to his right, and there’s a massive block by Anderson on the pursuing lineman. It’s a footrace now! Maier is at the fifty yard and going. Forty, thirty—they will not catch him. He’s into the end zone for another Sabres touchdown and the third for Maier. The Sabres now lead thirty-five to ten with six minutes left in the game.”
Maddie raised her pom-poms and screamed in celebration. Inside, she was dumbfounded. Aden was not just good—he was Flash on a football field. She was not sure what she expected, but it was not seeing him cut through the visiting team like butter.
Galvin dominated the game from the start, but Aden owned the opponent. Nothing they did seemed to stop or slow him. She watched as he jogged back to the sideline to the cacophony of backslaps, chest bumps, and pumping fists. Even Andre high-fived him, albeit with less enthusiasm than the rest of the team. Aden looked to the stands where his father sat. Mr. Kent gave his son a thumbs-up and a smile.
The inevitable conclusion to the game seemed to take forever as the opposing coach used the remaining minutes to teach his players a lesson in not giving up. They continued to play hard, stop the clock, and execute several trick plays to put more points on the board. Coach Branford allowed the yards but kept the pressure on against any touchdowns. With three seconds left in the game, the visiting Timber Wolves kicked a field goal to add three additional but meaningless points. Then the game was over, and the players were on the field shaking hands. The cheer squad headed out onto the field to do a victory cheer before the screaming home crowd. Maddie felt a push on her back.
“Go out there with the tumbling line, and do some flips or something,” urged Coach Samson. “And remember to smile!”
Maddie ran onto the field, suppressing the jitters she felt in her stomach. The negative Nancy side of her was imagining landing on her head instead of her arms. She pushed the fear aside, reached the line, and stood next to Amy, one of the few girls on the team who treated Maddie like a real person.
“Backflips?” queried Amy.
Maddie rolled her eyes. Amy could navigate the school grounds doing backflips. “Showoff,” she said, but she turned and aligned herself with Amy.
“Go,” said her partner, and they both sprang backward. Maddie executed ten flips before ending in a simple somersault. Amy was right there with her and threw her hands up for a double high-five. Maddie giggled and jogged back to the sideline. Without meaning to, she ended up near Aden and went to congratulate him.
Aden shocked her by picking her up and twirling her in a circle before hugging her. His grin was a mile long. “That was so awesome! I love football!”
Maddie took a step back. “I’m glad to hear that, you doofus. But you went from having the whole team love you to half hating you again.”
“Huh?”
Maddie pointed behind him. When he turned, he saw more than a few teammates scowling at him, none more so than Andre. “Oops.” He turned back to Maddie. “Shouldn’t have hugged you, I guess.”
“Nope. And you’re lucky I didn’t ding you in the side of the head for picking me up like that. Next time—”
“Hey, Aden,” said Dorete, cutting into their conversation. She looked at Maddie like she was a stray piece of beach flotsam, then stepped closer to Aden. “Who knew you were hiding all that talent. You treated those boys like they were five-year-olds—so strong.”
Aden’s mile-long smile of a moment ago now reached the circumference of the earth. Maddie knew she was a forgotten speck. She walked away, shaking her head. Boys are such idiots. God should have skipped them and jumped right to us!
Chapter Fifty-Four
Tina Jennings, Maddie’s mother, had once described physical education, or gym class as they called it in ancient times, as a structured environment designed to humiliate the weak and allow the strong to preen. If true, it seemed to have gone the way of the dodo bird and the Smilodon. The Galvin High gym was arranged in the same manner as the school cafeteria: free-form. There were two large gyms, each open and set up with different activity stations. If you wanted to play volleyball, you went to one area of the gym. If you were on any of the sports teams, then you were expected to hit the state-of-the-art weight room. Most of the football and wrestling team members huddled together in that space, but with the school still high off last week’s win, the only things being lifted were the boasts of football players.
There were also mats set up for the cheerleaders, gymnastics team, and anyone else. The general rule was that the “anyone elses” of the school were expected to go elsewhere or sit in the stands with the rubes: the nerds, the sickly, or the physically uncoordinated. From what Maddie could see, the group sitting around doing nothing was a large one.
Maddie had opted to ignore the mats and dirty looks from her gym-class peers who were loyal to Dorete. She shot hoops instead. The boys’ junior varsity coach, Mr. Stevenson, who was also a gym teacher, was passing ball after ball to her. Mr. Stevenson did not belong in a high school. His hair was the color of a bright-white beach, and he had cat-green eyes. He was built like a CrossFit competitor and talked like he was born on a California surfboard. He was young—in teacher’s terms—which meant, judging from all the moon eyes Maddie saw directed toward him in each gym class, the high school girls would love him to privately tutor them in anatomy.
He was showing Maddie how to shoot with her off-hand. She was a natural southpaw but could shoot her bow and .22 handgun well with her right hand. As she suspected, she did not feel awkward heaving a basketball from her right side either, but she still needed to work on it. Basketball season was weeks away, but she had promised Coach Samson she would join the team. She planned on being ready.
She launched another shot from ten feet out, remembering to stay in form as instructed after the shot. The shot missed with a loud clang off the back of the rim. Mr. Stevenson ignored the ball bouncing away and walked over to Maddie.
“Let me show you what will be the issue for you. Start like you’re about take a shot. OK, freeze.” He took a hold of Maddie’s elbow, straightened it a little, then aligned her shooting arm straighter to make sure it was at a ninety-degree angle. “Shooting is more than having a good eye for the target. It’s about form. Perfect the form, and you will be money all the time. This is the right form. If you keep canting your elbow out or have your arm too far back, you will miss most of the time. Try again.”
He grabbed another ball and passed it to Maddie. Maddie brought the ball up in the start of a shot twice and stopped to gauge how her arms looked. Satisfied, she took another shot. This time it banked off the backboard and into the hoop.
“That’s better, much better. When the season starts, you’ll want to practice up close first. When you can hit ten shots in a row, move back a foot or two. We have some shooting aids as well that will help force the muscle memory to develop faster.”
“Hmm, just like archery. OK, I got it. Pass me another ball.”
The gym teacher passed her the ball. Maddie caught it, then stepped two feet backward, smirked, and put up her shot. It swished through the net. Mr. Stevenson folded his arms and gave her a lopsided grin. “I said to step closer.”
“I know,” said Maddie.
“So, are you working on becoming a double threat?”
Maddie turned to the voice and saw Tiffani settling down on the bleachers with all the other gym-class nonparticipants.
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Stevenson,” Maddie shouted to the teacher, then jogged over to Tiffani.
“You know, I’d call you a triple threat if the school had an MMA team.”
“Oh, aren’t we the comedian today?” Maddie plopped down next to her friend and leaned back. A sweet scent wafted in the air. It was coming from Tiffani. “What is that smell? Are you wearing perfume?”
“What’s wrong with that? Maybe I want to smell nice for someone.”
“If you say Aden, I’ll punch you.”
Tiffani let forth a deep, rumbling laugh. She cleared her throat and laughed again, this time at a higher octave. “No. I’m not even trying to get in Dorete’s path on that.”
“You got to be kidding me. She hates him because of Andre.”
Tiffani patted Maddie on the head like she was consoling a puppy dog. “No, my dear. She hates you. Aden was just a bystander.”
Maddie shrugged. “Point taken and duly noted. So, where have you been? The class is like half over. Come to think of it, you’re hardly ever in gym class.”
“I was helping Mr. Y Leiro with something.”
“I hope that perfume wasn’t part of the helping,” said Maddie as she wrinkled her brow.
Tiffani held up a finger. “That’s gross. On the other hand . . .” She trained her eyes toward Mr. Stevenson. “I bet he would appreciate a sweet smell after being surrounded by foul-smelling boys.”
Maddie put her head in her hands. “Oh God, not you too.”
The Madison Jennings Series Box Set Page 30