The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading (20 page)

A joke? Somehow it always came back to Rick Mangers, and my thoughts went to that stupid bet.

“Is that all this is? A joke?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear the answer. But now that it was out there, I had to know. “So what do you really have to do to get that hundred bucks?” I asked.

“What?” he said, and his face turned stony.

“You and Mangers? Is this all some kind of…” What? My mind clicked through endless possibilities for humiliation. What had Rick said?
You think you’re pretty smart, but you don’t know everything that you think you know, you know?

Okay, I’d suspected there was something I didn’t know—or at least didn’t
want
to know—since the very start.

You’re the one with all the brains. You figure it out.

These were boys; more important, they were jocks. What did jocks do, other than compete? My mind, still spinning with all those possibilities, stuck on one.

“Is this a race?” I watched Jack’s expression for clues to the truth. His lip twitched. “To see who could get…the furthest the fastest?” Jack’s lip twitched again, and he glanced away.

Bingo.

In the seconds it took to sink in, I calculated the spiraling levels of humiliation. “So. Who’s winning?”

Jack stared at the ground. “Who do you think?”

Oh, God. Moni. Moni and Rick. According to Moni, all they’d done so far was kiss. She wouldn’t do something like…
that
…without telling me. Would she? I shook my head to clear it. Under the spell of the great Rick Mangers? She just might.

“Listen,” Jack said. “It might have started—”

“No. You listen. I may not be prom queen material, but I’m a real person. Moni is a
real person
.” I paused, just long enough to catch my breath, but I wasn’t through. “And your dad? Isn’t he real too? Or was dinner at your house just a joke? Is he a joke?”

Jack looked up sharply. Oh, yeah, I knew his dad was totally off limits, but I didn’t care. “It’s funny,” I said. “Because I don’t think it was a joke to him.”

Jack took a step forward, but I held my ground.

“You don’t get it at all,” he said.

“That’s just it. I do.” I scooped the pom-poms from the ground. They rustled, the sound loud in the frigid air. I walked toward the back entrance, willing myself not to give Jack another look.

“Bethany.” The way a guy said your name meant something, but all I heard in Jack’s voice was pity. The pom-poms quivered in my hands.

“It’s not what you—,” he began. “I mean, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not as sorry as I am.” Tears clogged my throat. I hurried to the back doors, half hoping he would follow me.

He didn’t.

I
gave up.

For most of two days, either Moni’s cell phone rang and rang, or it rolled into voice mail. I had left three messages already—three frantic, urgent messages, complete with all the embarrassing details. Then I wrote the whole thing out and e-mailed it to her. Whoever said writing was therapeutic was wrong—I felt even worse afterward.

I ignored all communication from Todd, especially the e-mailed invites to Geek Night with “Bring Paulson, Too” in the subject line. IM? I didn’t even bother to log on.

Instead I did homework. I tucked it in my folders, then double-checked it hours later. I had no memory of filling in the blanks, writing out essay questions, or even reading chapters for honors history. Great. I had a broken mind to go along with my broken heart. I shoved everything into my backpack and crushed something at the bottom of it.

I reached in, my fingers finding a crumpled piece of paper. I knew before smoothing the crinkles what it said: “Witty Things to Say When Jack Paulson Is Nearby.”

I took it and the Dr Pepper can and tossed them both in the trash. Three seconds later I dug them both out. I pressed the can against my temple, the aluminum cool, one soft click sounding in my ear. I couldn’t throw it away, but I couldn’t stand to look at it either. At last I put both in my bottom desk drawer—a compromise between letting go and holding on.

By three on Sunday afternoon, I’d abandoned everything: the phone, homework, the computer. I stared at my ceiling, willing the world to go away. When Shelby came into my room without knocking, and then asked about Jack, I snapped.

“Leave! Me! Alone!” I shouted. I chased her out of the room and slammed my door. But seconds later, when I heard sobbing in the hall, I peeked out the door.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

She wiped away her tears, sniffed. “It’s okay.” But her quivering lip said it wasn’t.

“You want to learn the new dance?” I offered.

With a squeal, Shelby grabbed the pom-poms and headed for the living room. Soon “Get Ready for This” was screaming from the stereo, and we were step-shimmy-kicking it like never before. Even Mom joined in. It made me happier, and sadder, in an odd way. After three dances, Mom and I collapsed on the couch while Shelby continued moving through the routine.

“I’m going to have to buy her a set when it’s time for you to turn those things in,” Mom said, and laughed.

When I turn those things in,
I thought, and my brain offered up images I would have rather not considered. Like, cheering on the sidelines with Jack out there on the court. I reached up to hold my head.
How did I ever let myself get so stupid?
Geek girls and cheerleading, geek girl and Jack Paulson, those things were like oil and water. Impossible to combine.

“Honey, do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you all weekend?”

“I—”
How did Mom even know?
I hadn’t said a word about the breakup. If you could call it that. Then I thought, of course, no phones, no visits, no Geek Night. Hard not to know that something was wrong. I shook my head, but when a tear escaped down my cheek, Mom moved closer.

“I’m sorry this had to happen, but maybe it’s better this way.” My mom groaned. “Sorry. That sounds like something a grown-up would say. What I mean is, I never really dated in high school. And I certainly wasn’t a cheerleader.”

“I’m not much of one either.”

“Oh, honey, but you
are
.” She stroked my hair. “I’m amazed at what you’ve done. Madame Wolsinski should see you now. You know,” Mom continued, “when I was your age, you could pretty much call me a nerd.”

Like mother, like daughter.

“Then, when I got to college,” she continued, “I was so overwhelmed by it all. Someday I’ll tell you about the frat party from hell.”

That sounded like something Rick Mangers would host.

“This way, maybe you’ll be more ready than I was. Dating, boys, all of it,” she said. “Think of this experience as a big social experiment.”

“And the hypothesis is: I suck at it.”

“Everybody does at first.” My mom squeezed my hand. “Doesn’t make it easier, though.”

The song ended. Instead of hitting replay, Shelby dropped the pom-poms and plopped down next to me on the couch, her eyes huge and sad. She squeezed me tight around the waist. I didn’t think—what with the music going at full blast—she’d overheard Mom and me. I hugged her back, just as tight, and wished I was nine again.

“So, Reynolds, tell me about this deal between Paulson and Rick Mangers.”

I whirled from my locker Monday morning, jostling the door. It rattled shut. My head felt thick, my fingers stupid. I had to run the combination twice to open it again. I felt the flush start along my jaw. It seemed to simmer there for a moment before spreading across the rest of my face. So. Todd knew about the bet. How on earth…oh, freshman wrestlers,
of course
. So if they knew, and Todd knew, then the whole damn school must know.

“Sure, Paulson’s got that black eye,” he said, “but I still say Mangers ended up with the worst of it.”

“Jack’s got a what?”

“Black eye,” said Todd. “Uh, you’ve seen it, right?”

I tried to piece together what he was saying. “Jack and me—”

“Jack and I,” Todd corrected, then concern clouded his face. “Hey, Bethany, is everything okay?” Again I was reminded—the way a guy said your name meant something.

“Everything is—”
So not okay
, I thought. But I didn’t know how to start that conversation, or whether I wanted to. “I guess…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “How did Jack get a black eye?”

“All I know is Saturday, Paulson and Mangers got into it in the boys’ locker room. It took five seniors to pull them apart.”

“A fight?”

“A bad one too. Pretty-boy Mangers is looking rough this morning.”

“Over what?” I asked.

“That’s just it. No one knows.” Todd shrugged. “I figured you’d have the inside scoop on that.”

“I’m not on the inside of anything.” I turned back to my locker and pretended to look for a pencil. So Todd
didn’t
know about the breakup—or the bet—which meant maybe no one else did either. I should’ve felt relieved, but the weight of it hung over me. It was like waiting for the other Skecher to drop.

Todd touched my shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I shrugged.

“Really?”

“There’s nothing going on. At least not anymore, not between me and Jack.”

“No way,” Todd said. “Since when?”

“Since Friday.” I swallowed a breath. “After the game.”

“Well, that explains Geek Night. You should’ve come anyway.”

“Wasn’t in the mood.” Still, it was nice to know I was welcome somewhere.

“Damn.” Todd leaned against the next locker and stared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

His concern was actually touching.

“You don’t suppose he’ll still support my campaign, do you?” Todd pushed the hair away from his glasses. “I admit it might be a little awkward at first, but with time—” He broke off at the look on my face.

“What one usually says at this point is, ‘Gee, Bethany, I’m sorry.’ Or ‘Gosh, Bethany, that’s too bad.’ You do not wonder if it will hurt you in the electoral college.”

“Look, Reynolds—”

My jaw was so tight, it hurt. “So if it was a choice, between him and me?”

Todd opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Wrong answer.” I slammed the locker door, not caring if I had everything I needed or not. I marched, head down, toward history, the opposite direction of Todd, the cafeteria, the gauntlet, Jack, Rick, and even Moni—the opposite direction of everything.

The classroom was empty. I sat at our table and considered sprinkling Todd’s chair with pushpins from the bulletin board. I stared at the map of the world and thought about hearts: how Todd’s was two sizes too small, how much mine hurt, and how Jack’s was a mystery.

Except…it was no mystery. I’d seen him with his dad. Jack’s was one of the best hearts I had ever known. That I never really had a spot in it—well, that was what hurt the most.

I stood down the hall from the cafeteria door, at the spot where I usually met Moni for lunch. I hadn’t seen her all morning. My throat felt rough—from tears, from not talking, from holding everything in while Jack Paulson sat across from me in Independent Reading. God, I needed Moni, and I needed her
now
.

Chantal and the gauntlet girls filed past. Each of them gave me a long, hard stare. It was their standard intimidation tactic—guaranteed to work on freshmen, sophomores, and the occasional esteem-challenged upperclassman. Once upon a time, it would have worked on me, too. But even in my current state, I knew I looked fine, or as fine as anyone coming off a weekend-long crying jag could look.

Todd gave me a mock two-finger salute when he passed by. Brian and most of the debate team shuffled past in his wake, careful not to look me in the face. So. Todd was mad that I was mad?
Oh, grow up,
I wanted to shout.

There was no sign of Moni. Or Jack. But Rick Mangers skulked past. His nose was swollen. Bruises colored his forehead and one cheekbone. He didn’t glance my way. But Todd had been right: Pretty-boy Mangers looked rough today.

I spotted Moni at the far end of the hall. When I realized she was flanked by Anna and Kaleigh, a strange fight-or-flight impulse kicked in. “I’ll catch up with you guys,” Moni said when they reached my spot in the hall. Kaleigh and Anna exchanged looks. I swore they laughed once they were inside.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?” But Moni didn’t stop, just slowed a little, and I hurried to catch her.

“I almost lost my boyfriend thanks to you. That’s what’s up.”

“Moni. Didn’t you listen to my messages? We—”

“Look, it’s not my fault you screwed things up with Jack.” Moni’s words were shrill. “Rick is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I swear, if you try anything else, I’ll—”

I shook my head, but what I really wanted was to shake some sense into my friend. “This whole thing is a joke.
We’re
a joke, to both of them. This isn’t real.”

She turned to me when she reached the cafeteria door. “You’re the one who needs to get real. We make the cheerleading squad and a bunch of good stuff happens, but all you can do is bitch about it.” Moni’s eyes were small and fierce behind her glasses. I’d never seen her like this.

“I don’t know what I did, but—,” I started. Except…I did know. This was Rick’s work. He’d taken my words, mixed up some metaphors, and fed them to Moni.

“You messed up everything. Don’t you get it?” She leaned close and spoke her next words slowly. “You almost ruined my life.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t get me started. You don’t even want to know what Rick said about you.”

She was probably right about that.

“Why can’t you just chill? Even my mom isn’t this uptight.”

Uptight?
Okay, she was definitely right—I didn’t want to know what Rick said, but I could guess:
Paulson doesn’t like uptight chicks.

“Just because you can’t stop being a loser doesn’t mean I have to do the same thing.”

Maybe Moni’s voice rose in volume, or maybe the chatter in the cafeteria had hit a natural low point. Either way, her words rang out across the space. People turned and stared at us. A few kids smirked. Several more giggled nervously. And she wasn’t done yet. “Do me a favor, Bethany,” she said. “From now on, stay out of my life.” Moni spun away from me and headed inside the cafeteria.

I stood on the threshold. Fight? Or flight? With the gauntlet girls at lunch, the path to the bathroom was clear, but that was the coward’s way out. I forced down the lump in my throat and stepped through the door.

Mechanically I filed through the food line. Then there it was, the sea of cafeteria tables before me. I thought about the first day of freshman year, how nothing could be worse than that. Then I thought,
Maybe I was wrong.
The First Law of Cafeteria Karma = Things can always get worse.

No one waved me over. Moni sat with Rick, Anna, and Kaleigh, at a table centered between the jocks, senior class royalty, and the gauntlet girls. Chantal did her best to preside over all four tables at once. She leaned across and said something in Moni’s direction, and a ripple of laughter floated above the noise. I whirled around, and my tray connected with someone else’s, someone with dark, spiky hair. Someone who was pretty much the last person I wanted to see—who also happened to be the only person I wanted to see.

Jack raised his gaze from the mingled mess of our lunches. I saw the black eye then, purple and painful-looking.

“I’m sorry,” I said. And I was. Sorry about everything. This mess, the one on Friday, the fight with Rick, Moni. You name it, I was sorry for it.

“My fault.” Jack walked away, dropping his tray into a trash can, dumping it all in—food, milk, tray, silverware, all of it.

And still, I just stood there, while Jack’s chocolate pudding oozed into my applesauce.

The acoustics in the cafeteria would never match those in the Little Theater, or in the gauntlet for that matter, but from the far corner, I heard a distinct “Ahem.”

Todd and Brian, the members of the debate team, the Chess Club, and a few freshman wrestlers—all stared at me. Todd’s expression held a hint of apology. The tip of his head said,
Come on, you know you want to
. But I couldn’t.

I wasn’t embracing the here and now, or whatever it was he thought I was doing. I dumped my food, untouched, into the garbage, just like Jack had, and headed for the exit. When I passed the last table by the door, someone laughed.

Todd cornered me after school. I was standing at my locker, ignoring the stares and whispers of those passing by—or trying to. I wished I could simply go home and stay there. But first I had to make it through cheerleading practice, then I was due back at the gym for the last wrestling meet before sectionals.