Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) (4 page)

Chapter Five

I didn’t care how silly I looked…as soon as that final bell sounded, I took off jogging toward the gymnasium. I wanted to be the first one there, so this time I could get dressed in private. Relieved to find the gym empty, I snuck into the locker room, changed quickly, and took one last look at my overall appearance in the mirror. I looked decent.
The important thing today is not how I look, but how well I cheer
, I reminded myself.
You can do this
, I repeated over and over in my mind.

Once dressed, I walked across the gym floor and took a seat on the team bench, the same bench that the home team basketball players would sit on come game night, and the one that Ronnie would place his cute behind on. Basketball tryouts had been held over the summer; I wished cheerleading tryouts were held the same way, but I couldn’t get that lucky.

I imagined Ronnie’s firm body running up and down the court, his skin glistening with the soft, wavy glow of his sweat. I imagined him leaning forward, tucking my hair behind my ear the way he used to…

I shook the perfect image of him away, my neck and shoulders splotchy from embarrassment.
He is the last person you should be thinking of, Dakota!

Since I was the first to arrive, I had to sit and watch my competition as they arrived one by one. Unsurprisingly, the returning four girls arrived together. The Triple Ts—Tasha, Tally, and Teresa—were skipping toward the locker room, their arms interlocked, while poor, gawky Monika tagged along behind them. She looked like a lost puppy.

Ashleigh and Brittani were a few steps behind them, and then Genevieve and Mariella strutted in, also arm in arm. They both stuck their noses up at me, disappearing inside the locker room.

Amanda and Sydney were the last to arrive. Finally, someone I was happy to see!

My mind was blank as I waited for the others to change, primp, and come join me on the bench. By the time we were all settled onto the seat, I’d counted eleven of us.

Looking at the numbers, it was pretty close to what I’d expected, except for the addition of Amanda, who totally threw me for a loop by showing up today. I wasn’t even sure if she knew a thing about cheering, dance, or gymnastics.
I guess I’ll find out soon enough
, I thought, swallowing down a lump in my throat.

Six of us would make it, and five of us would not. I just had to make sure that I fell into the first group.

Chapter Six

When Coach Dolly Davis walked through the door, the gym was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Even though these girls were my competition, some of them were my friends, and all of us were undeniably nervous. Somehow, I felt a sense of camaraderie with these girls, considering the fact that we were all in the same boat.

Coach Davis was a former NFL cheerleader, with the cheerleading skills to prove it. She’s past the age of forty now, but her age didn’t put a damper on her beauty. She had soft, auburn curls that hung in ringlets to her chest, bold blue eyes, and a small but athletic figure. When she wasn’t coaching, she was busy teaching Western Literature to sophomores. I’d heard she was a nice teacher, considered “easy” by most of her students. Unfortunately, her reputation as a coach differed greatly. She was serious when it came to cheerleading, and rumor had it she was tough, and sometimes cruel, to her squad.

This was her fifth year coaching, and I knew she was more than a little familiar with the Triple Ts and Monika, as well as Ashleigh, who tried out every year. I still didn’t think it was fair, but I reminded myself that nothing ever is, and held my breath as Coach began talking.

“Welcome, girls. Cheerleading tryouts are never easy, as I’m sure those of you who’ve tried out with me before can attest to. The process usually involves one full day of learning the routine, and then the next day I announce the names of those who have made the team. But…this year, I’m going to do things a little differently. There will still be six girls who make it, but I will also choose a seventh girl to serve as an alternate. If someone is out sick, or God forbid someone sustains an injury, we will have someone as a back-up to fill in when necessary, or as a permanent replacement if need be. I would also like to inform everyone that just because you were on the team last year does not mean you will necessarily make it again. I am a strong believer in fairness, and I want everyone to have a fair shot at making the squad.”

She went on, “However, in order to be eligible for the team, all members are required to maintain a 3.0 GPA. If any of you girls don’t think you can handle that, please feel free to leave now.”

Again, the gym was filled with silence. Everyone stayed put in their seats. “Okay,” Coach continued, “I also want to discuss my attendance policy. I will expect each and every girl who makes the team to attend all practices, games, and competitions, unless you have a doctor’s note. Each member of the squad is a representative of this school. That means that I expect all of you to be on your best behavior at all times. No drinking, smoking, or drugs. If you get detention, or somehow wind up suspended, believe me when I say this—you
will
be
gone from the team.”

“No piercings,” she added, staring directly at Amanda’s eyebrow piercing. “No tattoos, either.”

“Now as far as practice is concerned, I will be dividing all of you into three groups to learn a group routine. I will make sure that at least one of our veterans is in each group, as they will be helping to lead you,” she said, glancing at Monika and the Triple Ts fondly. Already, I sensed her favoritism for the veterans, but I bit my tongue.

“We’ll spend today and tomorrow learning the group cheer. On Wednesday, I’ll teach each of you an individual cheer. On Thursday, we will review our individual and group cheers. Friday will be the actual tryouts. Group routines will go first, and then each girl will perform their individual routine. Next Monday, I will announce the six chosen, and the alternate. In addition to learning our routines this week, we will be running a mile every day at the end of practice. If you want to be on this team, then you must prove to me that you’re in shape. Any questions?”

I had a million, but I didn’t dare raise my hand. Hard work didn’t scare me, but I simply couldn’t believe I’d have to wait an entire week to find out if I made the team. What a bummer!

“I have a question, Coach Davis.” Tasha leaned her head to the side, staring at her bitchy sidekicks. “Which of these freshmen will I be leading in the group routine?” she asked, looking around at the likes of us.

The sideways glance Coach Davis gave her revealed to me that she might not be as fond of Tasha as I thought.
Perhaps I have a shot at beating out the veterans after all
, I thought, perking up in my seat.

“Keep listening and you’ll learn the answer.” She gave Tasha a stern look.

“First, I will teach the four veterans the cheer, and then I will divide you up into three groups. The veteran girls will then be responsible for teaching their other team members the routine. While I’m teaching Tasha, Tally, Teresa, and Monika, I expect the rest of you to stretch and begin practicing your jumps.”

We all nodded dutifully and got down on the floor for stretching. Coach Davis led the veterans to the other side of the gym. Girls were chattering, but I was too nervous, and too focused, to engage in small talk right now.
I have to learn this group routine perfectly tonight, and please, please, please don’t let me be on Tasha’s team
, I prayed. After smarting off to her earlier today, I felt certain she would find a way to screw me up on the routine if she had the chance.

After Coach Davis taught the veterans the routine, they all returned to the center of the floor, where the rest of us were stretching and doing jumps. Already, I’d noticed that Brittani and Sydney had the highest toe touches and spread-eagles in the bunch. Something else I would have to work on…

“Line up, girls!” Coach Davis puffed on her whistle, causing my ears to ring.

We did as we were told, forming a straight line. I knew she was getting ready to announce the group routine teams, so I took a deep breath and childishly crossed my fingers behind my back.

“The first team will consist of Tasha, Genevieve, Ashleigh, and Sydney.” Sydney was my BFF, but I couldn’t help thinking—better her than me. Being on a team with Tasha and Genevieve would have been unbearable!

“The second team will consist of Tally, Mariella, and Monika. And the last team will consist of everyone who is left—Teresa, Brittani, Amanda, and Dakota.”

Although I didn’t like being with one of the Ts or Principal Barlow’s daughter, I was glad to be with Amanda, and relieved that I’d avoided the two worst girls in the group. We immediately broke off into our groups and spread out to opposite areas of the gym. My team chose an area close to the locker room. Genevieve and Tasha’s group took the center of the floor, of course, while the last team headed off to the far right corner.

I caught Sydney’s eye as she trailed behind Genevieve and Tasha. She looked miserable. Ashleigh was on their team too, and she was wearing an expression to match Sydney’s. No doubt those two snotty blondes would do everything in their power to outshine Ashleigh and Sydney. I felt so bad for them.

Coach Davis brought each team a compact disc player, and we went to work, learning the routine to music. Teresa demonstrated the entire routine for us while we sat on the floor, studying her moves. It was a complex set of dance movements, cheer motions, and jumps that ended with a basic lift. I could learn the routine…I just needed to learn how to do it better than everyone else.

Chapter Seven

Even though Teresa was one of the evil Ts, she turned out to be, much to my delight, quite a terrific teacher. By the time Coach Davis blew her whistle, everyone on my team knew most of the routine by heart. We were competing as individuals, but in order for this group routine to turn out well, we all had to work together and stay in sync.

Brittani had no problem learning the routine, and Amanda’s skills blew me away. She honestly looked like she’d been cheering for years, instead of the beginner she truly was. She even knew how to do a back handspring, though she’d had no formal gymnastics training. I thought about all the years of classes and practicing I’d invested, and couldn’t help but feel slightly resentful toward her natural abilities.

“Let’s head out to the track and do a mile!” Coach Davis blew that whistle of hers.

The school track was located behind the school building. The eleven of us pushed through the heavy steel doors and began our descent to the starting line of the track. Coach Davis assumed her position beside us, and I respected her for running the mile right along with us. She might be tough, but I liked her.

The whistle sounded and we were off, racing down the long stretch of track, our various types of sneakers pounding against the dirt loudly. I enjoyed the sound of it…it reminded me of being a young girl, racing my friends on the playground at school. I wasn’t the fastest runner, but I did have endurance. I could do this mile, no problem. And I wasn’t worried about out-running the other girls. After all, this was cheerleading, not track.

I ran at a steady pace, keeping my eyes focused on the lane in front of me. I remembered to control my breathing. By the time I made my way all the way around, I felt exhilarated.

“As soon as you finish, you’re free to go!” Coach shouted. She was already finished herself, stretching gracefully in the grass next to the track. She didn’t have to tell me twice—I was exhausted.

Sydney and Amanda caught up with me, and we walked together to the front entrance of the school. Sydney’s dad was parked out front in his silver Mercedes. “Call me tonight. Lots to discuss,” she said breathlessly, jogging off.

I could see my mother parked several cars back from him, waiting faithfully as always. Not only was my mother always on time, but she was usually early. When I cheered in primary and middle school, she never missed a game. Not that she was one of those crazy cheer moms; quite the contrary. She was simply supportive of everything I did, and she wanted me to make the team because she knew how bad I wanted it myself.

I smiled at her through the windshield of her beat-up Toyota Camry. Considering the size of our house, you’d think she would drive something fancier, but she doesn’t. She likes her old car just the way it is. I couldn’t wait until I had my driver’s license and could drive myself around, but deep down, I knew that someday when I was thirty, I would miss having her there to pick me up every day.

Amanda was still standing by my side and I knew she was too proud to ask for a ride. I knew for a fact that her Grandma Mimi wasn’t going to leave the house and come pick her up. “Will you ride home with me? Let’s talk about tryouts.” I opened up the back door of the Camry so she could climb in.

“Hey, Mom!” I greeted her, climbing in beside Amanda. “You don’t mind taking Amanda home, do you? She lives just next door,” I explained, even though my mom already knew who Amanda was.

“Sure!” she said, in her usual cheerful voice. I could tell that my mom was dying to ask me about tryouts, but I knew she’d wait until after we dropped Amanda off.

“Our group routine is fabulous! I definitely think the four of us will make it!” Amanda exclaimed excitedly. Since Amanda was new, she didn’t know much about the four veterans, or Ashleigh’s year to finally get a turn, or who Brittani’s mother was, so I had the honor of filling her in. I didn’t want to bum her out by admitting that our chances were slim, but that was exactly what I did. When I was done talking, she looked as though she might cry.

“I’m sorry,” I told her afterwards, the disappointed expression on her face making me feel guilty.

“At least we live close to each other, and can practice together!” she reminded me perkily.

My mother pulled up in front of Amanda’s house. Amanda gathered up her backpack. “What the heck do you have in that thing on the first day? It looks so freaking heavy!” I chuckled.

“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Densford! Bye, Dakota,” she said, climbing out of the car.

“We can beat the odds! Don’t let my pessimism get you down!” I yelled out the window. She gave me a thumbs up sign.

I knew I needed to practice the group routine, but I was simply too exhausted when I got in. I needed to eat, shower, and solve some pre-algebra problems that I should have completed in Study Hall when I had the chance. Mom ordered pizza while I ran upstairs to take a shower.

The hot water felt good on my sweaty skin, and the lavender smell of my bath soap helped soothe my nerves. I couldn’t help it; I started reciting the routine in my mind as I scrubbed my body clean. I wanted to make the team so bad.
We all do
, I reminded myself.

I ran through the entire routine several times before the water went cold. I allowed my hair to air dry while I rushed through the math problems. I finished just in time for the doorbell to ring, announcing the arrival of pizza.

My mom was downstairs waiting for me, laying out paper plates and opening pizza boxes. She’d ordered my favorite garlicky bread sticks and my favorite type of pizza, Italian sausage and mushrooms. I smiled at her graciously. She must have known that I needed this on a day like today.

“Thanks, Mom.” I piled my plate with gooey pizza and breadsticks.

I knew my mom was waiting to hear about tryouts, so I went ahead and filled her in. Like always, she was supportive and encouraged me to stay positive about my chances of making the team. It was exactly what I needed to hear at the moment.

Dad was sleeping in his favorite armchair and my baby brother was sleeping too. Mom and I watched one of our favorite shows before we both retired to bed.

Before I could go to sleep though, I had to do one thing. I had to call Sydney. I knew she must be totally bummed about being on a team with the mega bitch and bitch junior.

Even though it was after eleven, I knew she’d be awake. I used the speed dial function on my iPhone to call her, but surprisingly, she didn’t answer. So, I did what any girl my age would do—I sent her a text. Ten minutes later, I received a response.

Sydney: I’m tired. Don’t feel like talking. See you tomorrow.

I could understand her being tired because I was worn out too, but I got the sense that Sydney was upset with me for some reason. I laid down, almost instantly falling asleep as I wondered why my best friend was always so moody…