The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading (23 page)

That morning Jack entered the classroom at the last second, right as Mr. Wilker dimmed the lights. I tried to concentrate on the end of the show, the very best part. My mind strayed to that stupid rose and the even stupider note I’d sent Jack. Now he wouldn’t even glance my way.

Geek Girl, meet humiliation.

Far too soon, the credits rolled on the last section. Mr. Wilker thumbed the remote control and pointed at Ryan Nelson to get the lights. Reality, welcome back. I wondered if Mr. Wilker would let me off the hook for the Q&A. Sometimes no one would say a thing unless I raised my hand first.

“He was an ass.”

We hadn’t even started the discussion yet, so the words, and especially
that
word, made everyone whisper. Even more so, since those words came from Jack. He never spoke up in class unless he was called on. Sometimes not even then.

“Well.” Mr. Wilker hitched up his pant leg and sat on the edge of his desk. “Tell us what you
really
think of Mr. Darcy.”

Jack was staring straight ahead. His hands were clenched on each side of his desk. “I’m just saying, he was a jerk to treat Elizabeth like that. What’s up with the whole ‘I’m asking you to marry me, even though we both know you’re beneath me’ thing anyway?”

I swear I only moved a finger, but Wilker was on it. “Ah, Bethany. I pegged you as a Mr. Darcy supporter,” he said. “Care to weigh in?”

“It’s…”
Gah
. “It’s hard for us to understand how far apart the two of them were on the social ladder back then. It was a huge liability for Elizabeth to have relatives work for a living, or to not have any dowry, or to be stuck with a mother like Mrs. Bennet. I mean, if you think of it like high school, it’s easier.”

Mr. Wilker laughed. “Go on.”

“It’s like the preps and the losers, the jocks and the…” I didn’t need to say the word; everyone knew the way the sentence should end. “There’s always been an aristocracy. There will always be people who are, um, above other people. Like, imagine a goth kid getting together with the president of the Student Council.” Or the star basketball player hooking up with a geek extraordinaire. “Not gonna happen.”

“If he really liked her,” Jack said, “none of that stuff should’ve mattered.”

“In the end, it didn’t.” I shuffled the pages of my novel, like my fingertips could pull the words I needed from there. “Look at what Darcy did for Lydia.”

“Good point, Bethany,” said Mr. Wilker. “It might seem strange to us now, but Lydia running off with Mr. Wickham and having, um, relations was, well…and then Darcy fixing her—her honor—yes, Ryan?” Mr. Wilker pointed to Ryan Nelson in the back row. “Your take?”

“Do you think Elizabeth was kind of like a gold digger?”

Jack shifted in his desk chair and scowled.

Mr. Wilker cleared his throat. “What makes you ask that?”

“’Cause it’s only after she sees Darcy’s house that she starts being into him.”

My arm nearly left the socket when I raised my hand this time. God, I was
so
being teacher’s pet. But once upon a time, Jack Paulson said he wanted to talk about
Pride and Prejudice
. Maybe that had been a joke too. Good thing I knew the punch line.

Mr. Wilker nodded, my cue to go ahead.

“We know right from the start that Mr. Darcy has money. It’s no big secret,” I said. “Then Mr. Collins comes along and we find out Lady Catherine is rich too. Their two estates are, like, contrasted in the story. Lady Catherine’s house is a symbol for everything that’s wrong with the ruling class. But Mr. Darcy’s,” I continued, “represents everything that’s right.”

I wondered if Jane Austen ever faced down a gauntlet-girl brigade. I knew Elizabeth Bennet had. I stole a glance at Jack. He no longer stared straight ahead. No. Now his full attention was focused on me. For a moment I forgot about roses and humiliation and simply stared back.
Such fine eyes,
as Jane Austen would say. With my voice faltering, I added, “Seeing this other side of Mr. Darcy is why Elizabeth falls in love with him.”

“Interesting. Ladies and gentlemen, take note.” Mr. Wilker pressed two fingers against each temple. “Thanks to Bethany, I feel an essay question coming on.”

Groans erupted. A few seconds later a ball of crumpled paper smacked the back of my head. It fell to the floor and came to rest between my desk and Jack’s. He snatched the crushed paper, glanced up at Mr. Wilker, then shot a look down the aisle. With a flick of his wrist, he fired the ball toward the back desks. It struck his target’s forehead with a solid smack.

“Too bad you couldn’t do that when it counted, Paulson,” someone said.

Jack looked cool, not angry or embarrassed. No smile. No frown. No game face. Just a slight tilt to his chin, the only hint of his pride.

On Friday, Prairie Stone High erupted once again with roses. Because one day of mortification simply wasn’t enough. Actually, someone on the dance team over-ordered, and they had dozens left over from Wednesday. They were selling them at a discount—just one dollar today. The line in the lobby was filled with boys who’d forgotten Valentine’s Day. Like a two-day-old rose would fix that.

I was trudging toward my locker after school, but the sight of Moni with two roses made me run. I skidded to a halt, and the back of my skirt flipped up. Purple Butt, meet World.

“What? How? Who?” I asked.

“They were on my desk last period.” Moni turned the roses in her hands.

“And?” I asked.

“Well, there’s one from Brian.” Moni handed me a note.

I examined rows of zeros and ones. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“It’s in binary,” Moni said, and wrinkled her nose. “He’s asking me to meet him here, after school.”

Okay, so we were still dealing with computers, but at least it was paper and ink and not pixels. Not to mention a real rose. It was a start.

“Lucky for him you’re a math geek,” I said. “The other one?”

“Rick Mangers.”

“No.”

Moni shook open the note to reveal a single, one-word sentence.

“Well, you know,” I said, “jocks are all about the one-word sentences. At least it doesn’t say, ‘Me’!”

Moni laughed. “Any idea what it means?” Her hand skimmed over the top of her head. “’Cause he kinda lost me.”

“Not a clue.” I glanced down the hall. “But I think you might find out.” For once, Rick Mangers didn’t appear out of nowhere. He walked toward us, his swagger only slightly hindered by a backpack full of books.

“Hey,” he said, including both of us.

Moni’s face went blank.

“Could I ask you something?” Rick said to Moni. I backed up a few steps and turned toward my locker. “I need to—,” he started, but Todd yelled my name from down the hall, drowning out Rick’s next words.

I watched Rick pull one of the roses from Moni’s hand and touch it to her nose. He was good, I had to admit. A real player. But this time he looked…sincere? The two of them talked quietly together. I didn’t want to eavesdrop. Okay, I only sort of wanted to. Todd didn’t give me that option.

“Reynolds,” he shouted again.

I held a finger to my lips and hissed, “Shhhh.”

But Todd Emerson? Totally shush-proof. He approached, buttons all in place for once.

“I need to bounce something off you.” He touched me on the elbow and led me toward the stairwell. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, and leaned in close. “We should make this a two-pronged attack. Next fall I want you to run for homecoming queen.”

“For what?”

“Hear me out. I mean, let’s face it, you’re one of the prettier girls in school.”

“Oh, sure.” I rolled my eyes. “I bet you say that to all your muses.”

“This cheerleading thing has paid off.”

“Big-time,” I added, with another look toward the ceiling.

“You’ve had some exposure,” he continued. “People know who you are, yet you’re still one of the masses.”

Chalk another one up to cheerleading.

“Put a name to a face and boom.” Todd clapped his hands. “Instant homecoming queen.”

Just add water. “Have you considered that maybe I don’t
want
to be homecoming queen?”

“Did you want to be a cheerleader?”

Okay. So I didn’t have an answer for that.

“Some people are born to greatness,” said Todd.

Oh, I knew who he included in that category, and I was looking right at him.

“Others have it thrust upon them.” Todd peered at me over the top of his new narrow-framed glasses. “Just think about it, Reynolds.”

He was crazy if he thought I’d try for homecoming queen. I was crazy for letting it cross my mind.

Todd’s gaze traveled over my shoulder to the hall behind me. “Oh. My. God.”

I had to laugh. Maybe cheerleader cooties really were contagious.

“I told him,” Todd said, “
no matter what
, do
not
wear the cape.”

Cape?

I turned and followed Todd’s line of sight. Moni still stood beside her locker, but Rick had been replaced by a kneeling Brian. At least I thought it was Brian. It was hard to tell with the massive purple robe and the hood that obscured his face.

He held something shiny out to Moni that appeared to be some sort of golden stick. The top of it was adorned with…was that a Christmas tree ornament? Ribbons coiled the length of the staff, supplemented at intervals with what looked like miniature purple and gold cheerleading pom-poms.

“Is he…is he doing what I think he’s doing?” I asked.

“That depends,” Todd said. “Are you thinking he’s spent the past two weeks creating an exact replica of a Party Quest wand for Moni, and now he is presenting it to her? Then—yes.”

Brian stood and placed the wand into Moni’s outstretched hands.

“Now go in for the kill,” Todd said under his breath.

Whatever “the kill” was, it didn’t look like Brian was going for it any time soon. Unless it involved turning whiter than the usual Minnesota pale and shaking so hard that we could see him tremble from our spot near the stairs.

“Come on…
come on
…” Todd seemed to will the words as much as say them.

Maybe it was some kind of nerd-boy mind meld, but something spurred Brian to stop shaking. He threw back his hood and swooped in for a kiss. It wasn’t the smoothest lip-lock on record, but it was real. It appeared that Moni thought so too. In any case, she leaned in and kissed Brian back.

Then it was all fist pumps and woo-hoos as Todd ran to meet Brian in a midair chest bump. The boys clomped down the hall together, stopping every few steps for another round of high fives.

“So,” I said when I reached Moni.

“So,” she said back, and that Moni Lisa smile spread across her face. She repeated every word of Brian’s conversation, the grin never leaving her lips.

“And Rick?” I asked when she was done.

“He asked me to the dance.”

“No way.”

“Way,” Moni said, “and he apologized. Sort of.”

“Are we talking about the same Rick Mangers? About this tall?” I raised my hand. “Senior hottie, but kind of a prick?”

“Who knew, huh?”

“And?” I asked.

Moni worked the rose stems into the ribbons that coiled the wand, then sniffed the tiny bouquet. “Not bad for one-dollar roses.”

“Come on,” I said. “Tell me.”

But Moni changed the subject. “My dad called last night and asked what I wanted for Valentine’s Day. I told him, ‘A Monica-free weekend.’”

“And?”

“And he’s coming down for the game, then we’re leaving right afterward.” Moni shrugged. “I won’t even
be
here for the dance, but I didn’t tell Rick that. I just told him no.”

“It’ll build his character,” I said. “Once he gets over the shock.”

“I just figured maybe I need some time to think. I mean, I’ve got this great big brain here.” She tapped her forehead. “Maybe it’s time I used it. Besides, if Monica’s cool about this weekend, then maybe she’s not totally awful.”

“And if she’s not cool with it?” I asked.

Moni grinned. “Then this will probably be the beginning of the end,” she said, but a moment later her smile faded. “What about you? Did Todd—?”

“What?”

“Ask you to the dance?”

“Right.” I pushed off the lockers and headed for my own.

“Come on.” Moni jumped in front of me. “I thought for sure. Seems like there’s something going on between you two.”

“I’m just a muse.”

“You’re amused?”

“Forget it,” I said.

“You sure there’s nothing—?”

“Nothing but delusions of grandeur.”

“Whatever.” Moni drew a breath, and her eyes widened. I turned to see where she was looking. Todd was at the end of the hallway, waving at Chantal. Apparently he was courting the gauntlet girl vote.

“She’ll eat him alive,” Moni predicted.

“I don’t think so,” I said. At least, not if he had something she wanted.

Chantal fell into step beside Todd. A hand on his sleeve, that hair shimmy thing. It was hard to tell from so far away, but I thought she gave him the look, the one reserved for seniors of the opposite sex—or quite possibly future presidents of the student body. And he didn’t even dissolve into a puddle of boy hormones. What had he promised her? I suspected it had something to do with the homecoming court.

“He’ll be just fine,” I said.

M
y legs trembled. My voice was hoarse. I had lost five pounds in sweat—five pounds that had magically transferred to the pom-poms. How, exactly,
did
fringe get to be so heavy?

And it wasn’t even halftime.

Jack looked as sweaty as I felt. But tonight he owned the court.

“Man,” Moni whispered. “It’s like he’s on some sort of mission. Has he missed a shot yet?”

Well, yeah, he had. Even Jack Paulson couldn’t make every basket. But it was good to see him play so well. And it was good to have my mom, my dad, and especially Shelby in the stands, even if I wasn’t sure who she was there to watch. Was it me or Jack she grinned at most?

I had just sneaked a look back at the court when I saw it, and I hoped the referee saw it too. Jack sprang for a rebound, arms high in the air, leg muscles taut. An elbow from one of the Wilson Warriors struck him in the midsection. The ball left his fingertips, hit the rim, then ricocheted into the crowd.

Jack fell. His legs buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground. A gasp echoed through the gym, followed by boos, then the shriek of a whistle rising above both. I lurched forward and gripped my pom-poms, feeling helpless. The refs hovered. Coach Miller rushed the court, a concerned frown on his face. He knelt and spoke to Jack, but the words were lost in all the noise.

No one moved. Not Jack. Not Coach. Not the referees. Cries from the crowd died down, and everyone waited.
Please let him be okay,
I chanted over and over to myself. I would have traded a thousand one-dollar roses just to see him move.

Jack rolled to his side. A wave of rhythmic clapping surged through the gym. It grew louder and faster as he made his way to his hands and knees. When he stood, everyone went wild, stomping, clapping. The roar was like a living, breathing thing.

The other cheerleaders jumped up and down. I stepped forward. My toes flirted with the boundary line, and I looked down the line of fringe. For once, no one yelled at me for not cheering.

Coach Miller probed Jack’s stomach. Jack winced, waved him off, and walked to his place at the free-throw line. The ball thumped against the floor, a blur of orange against the honey-colored wood. The crowd hushed. Even fans from the opposing team fell quiet.

His first shot circled the rim but rolled off. Nope. Not even Jack Paulson could make them all. He dribbled the ball again, the crowd still silent. The score was tied, with three seconds left before halftime.

The thudding stopped. Jack held the ball, his sights on the basket. Then, suddenly, he looked toward me. I didn’t know what else to do, so I gave my pom-poms a shake. That little-boy grin spread across his face. It seemed like his eyes never left mine. But they must have. The ball spun through the air. It floated above the rim. Then it slipped through, nothing but net. The Panthers headed into halftime up by one point, and I felt a blossom of hope in my chest. Just as quickly, I tried to talk myself out of it.

“Whoa.” Moni’s breath left her with a whoosh. “Call me tonight. I don’t care if it’s three in the freaking a.m. Call. Me.”

“What do you—?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Moni shoved me. “You saw it. I saw it. The whole school saw it. Don’t believe me, go ask someone. I bet even Todd saw it.”

“Do you think—” There was that hope again. I sighed.

“Yeah, I do.” Moni gripped me by the shoulders and frowned into my face. “Just promise me one thing. If he asks if you’re going to the dance, this time,
say yes
.”

The boys streamed toward the locker rooms, the crowd poured from the stands, people headed to the restrooms, and the Student Council went to man the snack bar in the lobby. But my feet refused to budge. I stared at the doorway long after Jack had vanished. People bumped me, but I barely stumbled. Only Sheila, collecting my arm and Moni’s, got me moving again.

“Can I talk to you two?” she said.

Like we had any choice. She escorted us to a space beside the bleachers, reached out, and fluffed each of our pom-poms in turn.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you.” Sheila’s eyes sparkled with—
were those tears?
“To tell you how proud I am of you. I know it hasn’t been easy. And that you had to really dig deep at times. But I was right about you girls from the start. Your school spirit just shines!”

Moni and I watched her walk away. Sheila stopped by Cassidy and held a perfectly lacquered hand in front of the captain’s mouth. Cassidy shook her head at first, then, eyes downcast, pulled out her gum and dropped it into Sheila’s palm.

Oh yeah, our coach really could strike fear into the meanest mean-girl cheerleader. We tried not to laugh, and managed pretty well until Sheila hit the gym doors. Then we exploded. Cassidy darted a look at us, but she started laughing too. Moni waved to her and shouted, “Bee and I have considered Death by Pom-pom; you want to join us?”

“I heard that,” Sheila called from just outside the doors.

We froze in place.

But Sheila just flipped her hair and glanced over her shoulder. “Next year, Moni, no excuses. We’re seriously going to work on those splits.”

The gym door opened and shut, bringing bursts of music and the occasional rose petal out into the lobby. Tonight laughter and talk made up part of the melody. Maybe it was leftover vibes from Valentine’s Day, or maybe the fact that the Panthers won by three. Regionals, here we come.

No one stood in line for the phone, not even me. Mom and Dad pried Shelby loose from the pom-poms. They looked toward the gym doors, then back at me.

“So?” they both said at once.

“I—I think I’ll stay,” I said. No risk, no reward, right?

After they left, I shared the lobby with a few others. In one corner, some freshman boys debated the merits of attending the dance. When a group of girls headed inside, the boys trailed after them, deciding the two-dollar cover charge might be worth it.

Then, out of nowhere, Rick Mangers appeared. He walked right up to me as if the past couple of weeks had never happened. “You talking to spark plug tonight?”

“I’ll be talking to Moni,” I said.

Rick laughed. “Yeah, well, tell her I went inside
alone
.” He nodded toward the gym.

“But will you be leaving alone? That’s the question.”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

“
To
find out,” I automatically corrected.

“Metaphor?”

“Grammar.”

Rick swore and went silent. Then he looked at me. “So, you really tutor anyone?”

“Anyone who shows up.”

He nodded and headed for the gym door, that swagger still in place. The way I figured it, when he was ninety and used a walker, he’d still find a way to swagger. Before he slipped inside, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey, Bethany,” he called.

I was reminded again that how a guy said your name meant something, and Rick had my attention.

“You still don’t know what you think you know, you know?”

What?
“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

But he didn’t. He paid the cover charge, but before slipping inside the gym, he turned and winked.

Some things never changed.

The door to the Little Theater rattled. Todd emerged, looking strangely dapper—that was really the only word for it. He and Mr. Hair Gel had finally become properly acquainted. He wore a correctly buttoned (and nonplaid) shirt for a change. He almost had the wow factor.

“Getting ready for the ball, Cinderella?” I asked.

Todd scowled and pushed up his glasses. “Figured if I’m running for student body president, I should experience what the student body does.”

“Something about that sounds wrong,” I said.

“Tell me about it.” Todd gave me a thoughtful look. “What about you? Fielding offers?” He nodded toward the gym.

“None so far.”

“It’ll happen.”

“I don’t know.” I pushed down a sigh. Jack never took this long to change. I wondered if he regretted that free-throw look. I wondered again if it had even happened.

“You can still come inside.” Todd nodded toward the gym again. “Join me, in official pre-election capacity, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

He took off for the door. When he reached the entrance, I called after him. “Hey, Emerson!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just don’t do the robot dance, okay?”

He pointed at his chest and mouthed,
Who, me?
Then he paid, stood straight, bent his arms like they were on hinges, and walked mechanically inside the gym.

He was
so
going to blow the election.

Footsteps from the locker room hall made my heart leap. I sucked in a breath and let it out. But the boy who rounded the corner was Ryan Nelson, not Jack.

“Oh, hey,” he said, and nodded over his shoulder, toward the locker room. “I—I mean, Paulson…”

He trailed off, like he was torn. I had no idea if Jack meant for me to stay, or sent Ryan to get me to leave. Maybe he didn’t even know himself.

“Can you get me a basketball?” I said.

“A what?” Ryan looked at me strangely, like I’d just asked him for lip gloss or something.

“You know.” I dribbled an invisible ball. “They’re round and orange, and they bounce.”

“Uh, sure.”

I followed him to the equipment room. Ryan tossed me a ball and didn’t seem surprised when I headed away from the lobby and the gym. “I’ll be out back,” I told him.

Icy air frosted the bare skin on my legs. The cold stole my breath, but I went for it anyway. I dropped the pom-poms at the edge of the makeshift court. A breeze made the fringe whisper against the asphalt. My breath and the
thump
,
thump
,
thump
of the basketball were the only other sounds.

I aimed for the basket. I tried to mimic what Jack did, how he moved on the court. The ball left my fingertips. It wobbled around the rim before slipping through the chain links. The ball bounced once, but before I could catch it, it vanished in a blur. And that same blur went in for a layup, shook the backboard, and hit the ground in a solid slap.

Jack.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He rolled the basketball between his palms, then looked at me. “What?”

I waved a hand in front of my stomach. “From tonight. Are you hurt?”

“Oh, that. Had the wind knocked out of me. I feel like a wuss.”

“Don’t—it looked scary.”

Jack shrugged.

“I was worried,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could weigh them.

Jack let the ball drop and approached, a hand in his letter jacket’s pocket.

“Been meaning to give you this.” From that pocket, he tugged my copy of
Pride and Prejudice
. “I finished it.” He studied the cover, and his eyebrows drew together. “It’s kind of about second chances, don’t you think? I mean, once Darcy got over himself.”

“Elizabeth made mistakes too.”

Jack shook his head. Something told me he loved Elizabeth Bennet as much as I did.

“It’s funny,” he said. “The difference between books and real life. I figured, heck, if it worked for Darcy—”

“If what worked?”

“Remember when he went after Wickham to make him do right by Lydia?” Jack touched the yellowing remains of his black eye. “Rick was talking shit about Moni that Saturday after practice, and I went after him. I was so pissed. At him. At me.” He shrugged again. “Seemed like the thing to do. Besides, the way I figured it, I was about to lose a hundred bucks.” His grip tightened around the book in his hands. “I still can’t believe you showed up for that last meet.” He paused as if considering something. “Neither could Mangers.”

Neither could I. But…my mind whirled, and I struggled to pull all the pieces together. “So, that bet?” Maybe I really
didn’t
know what I thought I knew, which made Rick Mangers right about something.

Jack turned away. For a moment I thought he might walk away, and that would be it. I swallowed back panic and tears. But then he looked at me.

“Which one?” he asked.

“Which…one?”

He held my gaze. “There were two, Bethany. One about whether you and Moni would cheer for every wrestling meet. And one about—” He stopped speaking but still looked into my eyes.

“Right,” I said.

“Yeah. But for what it’s worth, I think Rick’s serious this time. R.J. Schmidt made a crack about Moni the other day. Mangers nearly beat the crap out of him.”

Not that R.J. Schmidt didn’t deserve a good beating. “So, when you fought Rick…?”

“I wanted to prove that I was…serious, that it was never a joke.”

“Never?” And no matter what, I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

“Okay, it started that way for Mangers. But I thought, if we were supposed to, you know, I could use it as an excuse—”

“You never needed an excuse,” I whispered.

Jack studied the ground, kicked the toe of one shoe with the other. “By the time I figured that out, I’d screwed the whole thing up.” He looked at me. “It was too late.”

“Who says it’s too late?”

“Then here.” He pushed the book at me.

I took it and turned it in my hands. The novel felt lumpy, unaccountably so. The pages fell open. In the crease sat a ring. I stripped off my mittens and held it between my finger and thumb. Beneath the yellow lamplight, the opal glowed in its setting. The slender gold band was engraved class of ’89.

“It was my mom’s,” he said.

My lungs held zero air. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I shook my head, hoping to shake away the tears. “I can’t—I mean, it’s way too special. I—”

“My dad said the right girl would say that.” Jack gave me that little-boy grin. “It’s mine. He gave it to me a couple of years ago, and I want you to have it. I couldn’t think of anything else that would prove—”

“A rose would’ve worked. Even a two-day-old one.”