Revenge of the Cheerleaders
Read Revenge of the Cheerleaders Online
Authors: Janette Rallison
Revenge of the
Cheerleaders
Also by Janette Rallison
Playing the Field
All's Fair in Love, War, and High School
Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Free Throws
Fame, Glory, and Other Things on My To Do List
It's a Mall World After All
Revenge of the
Cheerleaders
Janette Rallison
Copyright © 2007 by Janette Rallison
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First published in the United States of America in 2007 by
Walker Publishing Company, Inc.
Distributed to the trade by Holtzbrinck Publishers
For information about permission to reproduce selections from
this book, write to Permissions, Walker & Company,
104 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Rallison, Janette.
Revenge of the cheerleaders / by Janette Rallison.
p. cm.
Summary: High school cheerleader Chelsea seeks revenge against her younger sister's rock-and-roller boyfriend after he embarrasses her once too often, but when she falls for his older brother, things become really complicated.
eISBN: 978-0-802-72138-9
[1. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 2. High schools—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 5. Cheerleading—Fiction. 6. Washington (State)—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.R13455Re 2007[Fic]—dc222007002372
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To everyone out there who knows
that reading can and should be fun.
You're the people who make
writing worthwhile.
Special thanks to Devon Felsted for not only answering my
Pullman questions, but for even knowing how many
stoplights there are in town. I miss the small-town life!
Contents
M
y wings and halo were too large. I looked more like a pale butterfly than an angel, but a person can't be picky when it comes to Halloween costumes, and it's not like I'd paid for it. My best friend, Samantha, dug it out of her old drama costumes for me.
I had spent the last hour transforming my long blonde hair into glittery curls, and now she used the curling iron to even up one of my ringlets. After she hairsprayed it into place, she took a step back from me. "You're gorgeous, Chelsea."
"You don't think the dress is too tight?"
She tilted her head. "Well, you don't want to look too much like an angel, do you?"
"Not if Mike and Naomi are going to be there." Mike is my ex-boyfriend and Naomi—newly crowned homecoming queen—is my ex-friend and the girl he dumped me for. This is why I have to look extra good whenever I go places where they might be. And because Pullman, Washington, is a small town, that's just about everywhere. Super models probably slack off more with their looks than I have over the last month.
Mike and Naomi would almost certainly be at Rachel's masquerade party. It's a standing rule: when any of us on the cheerleading squad have a party, we invite the whole football team. Mike is a running back. So he was sure to come.
Samantha gave her long green medieval princess dress one last look in the mirror and fastened a rhinestone tiara atop her bun. I'd already told her that medieval princesses didn't actually wear tiaras, but Samantha just shrugged, and said, "Well, they should have."
You can't argue with that kind of logic.
Besides, the tiara worked for Samantha. She's the type of girl who looks likes she's destined to become a beauty pageant queen. Perhaps I wasn't destined to ever be an angel though, because I kept knocking my wings into things as I walked through her house.
"How am I going to drive in this?" I asked, trying not to scrape the pictures off the hallway wall as I passed by. It had taken ten minutes to pin them on the dress. I wasn't about to unpin them for the car ride.
"Maybe you could lean forward," Samantha suggested. "Or roll down the window and drive sideways. The police wouldn't dare pull over an angel. That has to be some sort of sin."
Before we walked out the front door, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window and paused to straighten out my halo. It was really just a headband with a wire sticking straight up and a metallic silver garland that circled over my head. Only all those years of being shoved in Samantha's closet had bent it into an odd oval shape and it kept tilting down. "Why don't I just catch a ride with you?" I hesitated mid-step. "Although, if Mike and Naomi are especially obnoxious I might want to leave early . . ."
Samantha fished her car keys out of a small sequined purse, which also hadn't been around in the middle ages, but you know, should have been. "Don't let them bother you so much. The best way to show Mike that you don't care is to date someone else. Remember, there are more fish in the sea, and better yet, more players on the football team."
We walked out into the cold night air, and I wished I'd found a warmer costume. Something that involved a coat and scarf. "I'm not dating anyone else from the football team," I said. "Cheerleaders shouldn't. It's too hard to cheer for guys who've dumped you. Lately I've been tempted to clap every time he's tackled—and see, the crowd might notice that."
Samantha opened her car door and slid inside. "So find someone else. Football players won't be the only guys at the party."
I didn't answer her. The rest of the girls on the cheerleading squad always bounced back from breakups as though they were nothing. As though "breakup" wasn't synonymous with rejection, failure, and a bunch of other painful words. I couldn't forget that Mike had seen me from the inside, had seen everything I was, and then decided he didn't want me.
When he broke up with me he told me—and these are his exact words—that he was sorry he'd been seeing Naomi behind my back, but she understood him better. He didn't even take responsibility for shredding my heart. It was all somehow my fault because I hadn't understood him.
Anyway, my ego still hadn't recovered; so I wasn't about to rush it into harm's way again.
I got into the car on the passenger side, and leaned over the dashboard so my wings wouldn't bend. There is no comfortable way to wear a seat belt while simultaneously contorting over the dashboard, which is probably why real angels fly everywhere.
When we pulled up to Rachel's house, we saw Mike, Naomi, and her sidekick Kyra, just stepping out of his car—proving that my timing is lousy. I had to wrestle the seat belt away from my wings, then turn and dip sideways to get out.
Mike wore doctor scrubs. Kyra had red spots painted on her face so she looked like a patient, and Naomi wore a skimpy nurse's outfit.
Yeah, right—she understood him better. Naomi probably doesn't understand the directions on a box of macaroni and cheese. This may be the reason she's so thin. It's hard to gain weight when you have to chew through the cardboard to get to your dinner.
Mike paused by our car as I extracted myself from the front seat. "Let me guess: you guys are Cinderella and her fairy godmother?"
"No," Samantha said with mock disgust. "If Chelsea was a fairy godmother she'd be hauling around a wand and a pumpkin."
Naomi sent me a forced smile. "Oh, you're a giant moth, right?"
See, this is why costume parties are a bad idea.
"No," I said, smoothing out my dress. "Moths don't wear halos."
Naomi's gaze went up to the silver garland encircling my head. "A halo? Is that what that is? I thought it was supposed to be a lightbulb. You know, because moths always fly into them."
Kyra lowered her voice and leaned toward Naomi. "Yeah, and Chelsea could use a few lightbulbs going off over her head."
Mike pretended not to hear this, but I knew he had. He shrugged and said, "See you guys later."
Not if I could help it.
Maybe it wouldn't have been as uncomfortable to be around him if things hadn't gotten ugly between Naomi and me beforehand. After he dumped me, Naomi came up to me during school and said she hoped we could still be friends.
Like I was going to be friends with the girl who had snuck around with my boyfriend behind my back. I just think not. Instead of making nice, I had told her exactly what I thought of her.
It was one of those hallway moments where everyone stops what they're doing to stare at you, then they look away quickly and pretend they have stuff to get out of their locker.
After that, our friends had to take sides. Naomi got Kyra and a small entourage of girls who tried too hard to be popular; I got my friends on the cheerleading squad.
I wish that were the end of it, but since then, Naomi and her friends have done their best to bad-mouth me to anybody and everybody at school. The term "white trash" has come out of her mouth on more than one occasion.
And okay, I'll be the first to admit that my house isn't the nicest one in town. Single mothers who work in nursing homes generally can't provide those. But I am not white trash. I know this because my father's side of the family is definitely white trash and I've met them. I can tell the difference.
Since our breakup, Mike goes out of his way to be extra nice to me. I guess it's guilt or something. I'd tell him to spare me the effort, but I sort of enjoy the way Naomi grits her teeth every time he talks to me. A few more months of this and she'll have nothing but tooth stubs left in her mouth.
My cell phone rang and I took it out of my purse, glad for the excuse to let Mike's group get ahead of us. It was my mom, her voice sounding breathless and worried.
"Do you know where Adrian is?"
Adrian is my fifteen-year-old sister who has delusions of being twenty-five. Sometimes she disappears and it usually means she is off with her boyfriend, Pack, trying in some way to ruin her life. Lately my mom is worried that she's started drinking. I'd like to think that Adrian just hints at going to those types of parties to drive Mom crazy, but I'm not sure.
Adrian used to swear she would never touch alcohol. We'd seen firsthand how it had messed up our dad's life. After you watch your father stumble into the walls on a daily basis, it just makes the Michelob life seem a lot less glamorous.
I pressed my cell phone to my ear. "Isn't she at Stefy's Halloween party?"
"I just talked to Stefy's mom. She hasn't seen Adrian at all. I called both Rick and Adrian's cell phones and neither picked up. Any idea where she could be?"
Before I'd left for Samantha's house, I'd seen Adrian in the bathroom applying a fake nose and chin to her face. She'd also bought a black wig, pointy hat, and green makeup to transform her into the Wicked Witch of the West.
"She must be at someone's costume party. There aren't a lot of places you can go and blend in when you're bright green."
"Could she be at your party?" Mom asked.
Doubtful. She didn't like to hang out with me or my friends. "I'll look and see," I said.
"Check around with Rick's friends," Mom said. "One of them might know where they are."
Rick is a senior like me, but that is as far as our similarities go. Rick has more body piercings than I have earrings, wears a wardrobe that looks like it was lifted off a homeless man, and keeps dying his hair random colors. Last week he and Adrian both dyed their hair maroon, which if you ask me is carrying the "couple" thing way too far.
"I'll ask around," I said.
"Let me know as soon as you find out anything," Mom said.
I hung up the phone and walked with Samantha into Rachel's house. I saw Rachel immediately; she sat among a circle of football players, looking like a perfect bronze goddess in a toga. We're not talking a bed sheet, we're talking an authentic-looking Roman dress that she probably used when she showed up as Venus in half the senior guys' dreams.
Right now Rachel was between boyfriends, but this was no doubt a situation that would be rectified by the end of the night. Rachel is never without a guy for long.
Aubrie, my other friend on the cheerleading squad, sat next to her in a gymnast outfit. This was technically almost not a costume, since Aubrie is one of those girls who came out of the womb completely able to land a backflip. We always give her the hardest parts in any cheerleading routine because she makes it look like gravity doesn't apply to her.
A few of the football players called out hellos to me, and I smiled and answered back, but the whole time I glanced around the room looking for anyone in a witch costume. I didn't see any of those, but I did locate Craig Van Dam, one of Rick's delinquent friends. He sat in a corner with some guys from the team, all of whom were oozing fake blood from various parts of their bodies.
Usually I steered clear of Rick and all things associated with him, but I strolled up to Craig while Samantha went over to talk to Rachel and Aubrie. "Hey, Craig, do you know where Rick is?"
Craig eyed my costume, but didn't comment on it. "Rick's band is playing at the CUB tonight. Some fund-raiser thing."
The CUB is short for Compton Union Building, a main hub on the Washington State University campus. Generally high school students didn't go there, but the other two guys in Rick's band graduated last year and were now freshman at WSU. So far I'd never known Rick's band—accurately named Rick and the Deadbeats—to play anywhere besides his garage, but I guess fund-raisers aren't choosy about the quality of music at their events.
"It's a costume affair?" I asked.
"Must be; Rick went as a vampire."
Adrian had to be there. Why she didn't just tell my mom in the first place that she was going—well, I knew why she hadn't. Since the dance was up on campus, my mom probably wouldn't have let her go. Mom says she's too young to hang out with college kids.
I thanked Craig, then walked down Rachel's hallway and called my mom. After I told her what I learned she was silent for a moment.
"Adrian might be there, but Stefy's mom said some of the girls had talked about going to a dance at Moscow High and a group of them left for that. I'm halfway there now. Will you check up on campus?"
"Mom, I just got to the party."
It was the wrong thing to say. My mom's voice came back across the line in a torrent of emotion. "This isn't exactly how I planned
on
spending my evening either. I have six bags of candy sitting by our door and no one to give it out. Now I'm going to be known as the neighbor who stiffed all the little kids on Halloween. I have to chase around heaven knows where looking for Adrian—and all because she can't follow simple rules, like letting me know where she is, and not running off without permission, and answering her stupid cell phone. Why am I paying the bill for it if she won't even pick up?" In the time it took for her to draw in a breath, Mom's voice changed from anger to a near sob. "So I'm sorry to interrupt your party, but I think finding your sister is more important."
