Prom Queen of Disaster (13 page)

“How’s Kaleb?” Hannah asked. “I saw Ava’s new profile pic; he’s a mess.”

“And why’s he at your house?” Libby asked.

I shrugged, he was probably out cold in bed from the pain medication laced breakfast. “He’s gonna be fine,” I told them, “and his parents were family friends until they—” I clenched my teeth. “You know, died.”

They both gasped. I realized not everyone knew. He’d told me not to tell anyone, and the moment of guilt was replaced with the reminder he’d spiked the punch.

“I didn’t know,” Libby said.

“I mean, it happened when he was younger, and it was his birthday last week I think, so his brothers kicked him out.”

“The ones at the bar?” Hannah asked.

“We should go back and give those asshats a piece of our mind,” Libby said.

We were at the lockers when Ava chimed in. “Yeah! I think we’re going to when he’s better,” she said.

“I said tonight,” Char added, already in her cheer uniform. “But, with practice and the competition, it’s not worth getting the police involved. For all I know, we’ll be disqualified if we start something, and then we won’t be winning any trophies.”

“Exactly,” Ava said.

“Agreed, and it would stress Kaleb,” I said. “The more stressed he is, the longer it will take him to get better.”

There was no bad blood between Sara and the rest of us; she told us at practice what she wanted, but she was only going to do it after the competition. Her
studies were suffering
because of practice. Char’s argument, was that nobody else suffered because they had their shit together.

Often, I envied Char for being open to speaking her mind, and then other times, I didn’t want to be branded a bitch. She was already planning ways of phasing Sara out of the routines.

“It will become a stronger routine, Sara’s a flyer, so fewer people needed as bases and more on floor work,” Char said.

We showcased our performance pieces at basketball games, occasionally stopping to recite chants. Kaleb had only been back in school the past few days, his arm bandaged up in a sling around his neck. We still weren’t too sure what happened, although I didn’t believe he was oblivious.

Kaleb waited in the room between the changing rooms. He held the panda head in his free arm, staring into its eye sockets. “I wanna do it,” he said.

I stood in the doorway. “You’re in a sling,” I said. “Good luck convincing Mr. June.”

Char walked through. “Sure. If he says so.”

Mr. June was in the corner filling up a water bottle. “And Mr. June says, no.” He laughed. “I’m sorry, Kaleb. You’re already hurt; I can’t have you pulling tricks on trampolines like that.”

“Wo’s gonna do it?” Kaleb asked. He dropped the head on a bench. The question we all anticipated. We needed a mascot, if we didn’t, the other team would use it against us.

“Listen,” Char spoke up. “Take one for the team, none of
us
are climbing into that sweat pot. We’re the cheerleaders, so it has to be you.”

Mr. June laughed. “Let’s not get crazy. I’ve got a Sophomore from gym class. Everyone welcome, Chris.”

A pale guy walked in behind. He was skinny. The sat heavy on him, like a wet towel. He would’ve had to put all of his strength into moving in it. He walked up and down the hall, moving slowly in the suit.

“Don’t get used to it,” Kaleb said. He tapped the shoulder of the mascot. It tipped slightly, but he kept balance.

As we performed the warm-up, the opening before the basketball game. We were against a school in San Diego, they’d traveled through the night to get here, their squad was larger, of twenty or so girls and guys. Their mascot was a goat, Gabby the Goat, a tall white and gray furry suit with a purple and pink
atrocity
of a cheer uniform.

We cheered—
hard
. It was easy to destroy them with our cheers. Something to a fast upbeat pop track, and as the music dipped in spots, the flyers would come down, and as the music peaked, they’d be pushed up from the bases. The mascots came out, each ready to shoot hoops for their time. With an air of failure, our mascot dropped the ball before hitting the X on the court, matched with a sigh from the crowd, while their side made the shot. In the corner of my eye, I watched Dylan throw his hands to his face.

We didn’t say a word to Chris, we told him this was his first try, but inside, it was the horrible ending to a perfect routine, and glad we didn’t have to involve the mascot in the competition.

We stayed off the court, watching and cheering. “Go, Pandas!” But we were five points down halfway into the game. It was doable, we could still win, but for whatever reason, shots were hitting the rim and bouncing off the backboard. I tried to grab Dylan as he left the court pissed off. He stormed through the doors like a child, beads of sweat on his face in defeat.

“Boys,” Char sighed, nudging me on the court. We had to distract the crowd.

In the end, they lost the game; there was only one point in the game.
We
won, cheering our hearts out, but it wasn’t a game-changer, they weren’t out of any championships, they were still very firm on the state leaderboard.

After the game was over, I rushed up to Dylan. His pulse beat solid around his entire body as I wrapped my arms around him. I felt the tension, throttling inside, wanting to punch something. I’d seen him like that before, I’d watch him when it was something he put everything into.

“Shhh,” I whispered into his ear. “Take a deep breath.”

His body eased into my embrace. He hugged me tight, I could feel everyone watching. “I’m sweating through this you know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

I grinned. “I’ve been working my butt off. Sweating like hell.”

“Good,” he said. He let go to take a full glance, the first time I felt him look at me. “Some of the guys are going for dinner after hitting the showers.”

“Funny you say that,” I said. “Some of us are going for dinner too.”

It was after 6 PM when we’d showered and changed. We had two large tables at
Carlos’ Pizzeria
, a staple for everyone and anyone on their visit to San Rafael. It was a little out of the way, but all the best places were.

Dylan pulled a chair for me. He sat beside me and kissed my cheek. I savored each kiss like I didn’t know when I’d get the next. “What are you ordering?” he asked.

“Sweet potato fries and Hawaiian pizza,” I said. “You should know.”

“Every time you say Hawaiian, I wonder what kinda person you are,” he laughed.

Ham and pineapple sounded wrong, in theory, but on a pizza and in practice, it was delicious, sweet and acidic. They would add anything to a pizza, as long as it was edible.

“Have you booked your hotel room for this weekend?” Char asked, standing at the head of the table. “I sent out the memo, or tweet, whatever to tell you the hotel we’d be in.”

Dylan nodded. “Booked mine with Benny,” he said. “Are we coming in the coach with you guys or do we have to drive ourselves?”

“Mr. June hasn’t
officially
said yet, but there should be enough room on the coach, it seats thirty people.”

The coach had been booked especially for the competition. “So you’re not going to be Debbie Downers?” Ava asked. “I mean, because you guys L-O-S-T today, and we’re going to bay harbor butcher the competition.”

“In a totally non-violent way,” I added. “Because the bay harbor butcher is a killer from
Dexter
.”

Ava shrugged. “Yeah, non-violent.”

We laughed, mainly because nobody knew through the sarcasm whether or not Ava or Char was ever serious. They mimicked each other, but usually, Ava would follow Char’s lead.

The smell of pizza wafted through the air, followed by the wait staff with our food. Char stood again. “We still need to fit into our outfits, we’re seeing them for the first time tomorrow, talk about
poor
timing, but stick to the water, eat the complimentary salad, and maybe only
half
a pizza, unless you want to work
twice
as hard tomorrow.”

I was already a slice in as she spoke.

Most of the younger girls, the ones Char was a crucial influence on, would only eat a small portion, and go for seconds on the salad, skip the dressing, and stick to water. I devoured the whole pizza, followed by three glasses of soda.

“Are they splitting the girls and guys up at the hotel?” Dylan asked.

I held my hand over my mouth to burp. “The school bought ours for the two nights, so probably,” I said. “But they don’t know we’re having a party for Quentin so that won’t matter. Why?”

“I don’t want to be told I can’t see you,” Dylan said.

I waved my hand. “Like Mr. June cares,” I laughed. “As long as we’re awake for the competition and win a trophy.”

Char poked her head between us. “What you are you two talking about?”

“Tomorrow,” I said.

“Oh, so we’re leaving at 3:30 PM after school, and it’s like, what, six hours to get there?” She said. “I’ll send it a text, so make sure you’ve got your shit ready. We
cannot
waste any time.”

Mr. June had already sent letters to our parents telling us what we needed and for how long we’d be away. It was a standard itinerary, copy and pasted to suit the occasion.

Char commanded we each get 8 hours of sleep or we’d be suffering, even though the competition wasn’t until the Saturday. We needed to be well-rested.

Dylan dropped me off at home. “See ya, tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll bring my iPad for the journey.”

I lugged my heavy gym bag with me. I’d collected a lot over the years, although we were getting new uniforms tomorrow, I liked to make sure everything was washed in case something was to happen—or to have something to practice in.

As I went to the front door, Ava parked up by the curb to drop Kaleb off. He grinned. “Wait up,” he said. “I tried yelling to you before you got into Dylan’s car.” I heard him but ignored him for a reason.

“I forgot you were still here,” I mumbled to. “Hey.” I pushed open the front door and throwing my bag inside.

He stumbled up the driveway, his arm still in the sling. Under the lighting of the porch, the deep purple bruising under his eyes now more prominent.

My mom had finished up with dishes from dinner as I walked into the kitchen, she stood towel drying the last plates from the draining board. “How was the game?” she asked.

“They lost, but
we
won,” I said. “What did you have for dinner?”

“I made a quiche,” she said, “there’s leftovers if you want.”

I grabbed my stomach. “No thanks, had pizza.”

“What about you, Kaleb?” she asked, looking directly behind me at
my shadow
. I turned. He shook his head.

“Annoyed I couldn’t get into the panda tonight,” he laughed. “Some poor kid volunteered.”

“Aw, poor thing,” she said. “How’s the healing going?” She reached out and pulled him into the light of the kitchen.

“Mom, is it possible to get this washed for tomorrow,” I said, nudging the gym bag with my foot.

“Of course, hon,” she said. “I’ll pack you both snacks for the road. I’m gonna take a look at Kaleb’s arm first.”

My dad sat in the living room with Maddie. I moved to the doorway to see them both watching reruns of old talent shows. He was away a lot, but when he was home, he’d spend as much time as he could with us. We were rarely ever the same when he came back from his long trips.

He turned to me. “You can come join us, Zoey,” he said.

“Early night for me,” I said. “Wanted to say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetie,” he said. He opened his arms to hug me, planting a kiss on the cheek. “And if I don’t see you before school tomorrow, wipe the floor with the competition. I know you can.”

“Yeah, good luck!” Maddie said.

“Thanks, Mads, Dad,” I said, blowing a final kiss before leaving.

I ran myself a bubble bath, throwing in lavender salts from a basin beside the tub. Before I undressed, there was a knock.

“It’s me,” Kaleb said.

“What do you want?”

There was a pause as I turned the faucets off. He didn’t reply.

I opened the door to see him standing tall, an arm resting on the frame.

“What do you want?” I asked again.

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t,” I said, ready to slam the door.

“No,” he put his foot in the way. “You do. I’m grateful for your mom, but you don’t want me to stay.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” I said. “Bye.”

He didn’t move. “I didn’t spike the punch,” he said. “Well, I
did
, but I didn’t.”

“
That
, again?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to listen to it.”

“I want you to believe me,” he said.

“Give me the proof, and I will,” I said.

Kaleb moved his hand behind my head and pulled me close. He kissed me. My eyes shut. His lips lingered for a moment over mine. I pulled away.

“Will that do?”

“What?” I threw my hands against his chest.

He clenched himself his arm, looking at me with a smile. “I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you.” He bit his bottom lip.

“Get out!”

What I’d hoped to be a relaxing bath turned into a collection of thoughts and panic. I didn’t know what had happened. There was nothing there, I knew there was nothing between us, and now there was something. A debate about whether or not I was going to tell Dylan or the girls ran through me. I couldn’t.

I crept past his room from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I turned as I walked into my room. I took a deep breath and sat against the door. “Dear Lord,” I said. “Tell me that never happened.”

In my worst nightmares, Dylan and Kaleb were stood in my bedroom with me asking, “what never happened?” My entire body collapsed into itself.

I woke around 4:30 AM in the darkness. Cold sweats took over. I jumped out of bed and grabbed my sketchpad. I didn’t turn on the lights; I didn’t want my body to acknowledge how awake I was. I sketched and sketched, carving into the paper. I was embarrassed and annoyed about it, but it was never going to happen again.

I slept with my pencil and sketch pad in hands. I woke to my alarm beeping. I jumped up and before rubbing my eyes, I noticed pencil smudges upside my arms.

“Zoey, honey.” My mom knocked on the door. “You awake yet? I’ll drop you off.”

I threw everything to one side, jumping out of bed. “I’m up,” I said.

“I have your clothes downstairs, tell me if you want me to pack your gym bag,” she said.

I’d slept in a large sack—it was probably one of those maternity nighties my mom had bought when she had Maddie. She didn’t like to throw things away; it was either handing them down or giving them to Goodwill. It was, however, a cloth sack.