The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading (7 page)

“Do we go for it?” I whispered to Moni.

“Hey, Jack Paulson just kissed you in front of the entire school,” Moni said. “We can do anything we want.”

She was right. No one spoke to us—or at us—as we entered the danger zone. At the halfway point, I started to think I could get used to this gauntlet-crossing thing. No more running through the freshman hall to get to German on time. No more climbing the stairs to the balcony or huddling behind tallish jocks to get to the cafeteria. We were almost all the way through when I took my first deep breath since the pep rally. A locker door slammed behind us and shook the air.

“Uh-oh,” Moni sang, and nodded her head in Chantal’s direction. “I think someone’s a wee bit upset with us.” She turned and walked a few steps backward.

“Careful,” I said. “We’re not out of range.”

“Have no fear, Super Brain is here.” Moni whipped out her calculator, holding it up like a shield.

“What are you going to do, daze her with denominators?”

“Maybe. But first I’m going to pummel her with my Pythagorean theorem.”

“Hey, chill. She might hear you,” I said. “Anyway, we don’t want to stoop to their level.”

Moni swung around and tossed her hair. “You are
so
right.”

Besides, I
knew
Chantal, knew her from what seemed like a lifetime ago. We shared more than a crush on Jack Paulson. And despite what Moni might believe, a pair of pom-poms didn’t change everything. They couldn’t even begin to reach across the chasm that had opened between Chantal and me. But with the whole school buzzing, and everyone doing double takes when I walked by, it didn’t matter. Much.

Chalk one up for cheerleading.

If the jazz band played “I’m Too Sexy” one more time, I was going to stomp over to the horn section and stuff my pom-poms down the first instrument I saw. From my vantage point on the sidelines it would be Brian’s trombone. He’d been grinning at Moni all night—at least when his mouth wasn’t otherwise engaged.

During the game she’d cast him a few smiles, but otherwise played it cool. I kept forgetting to ask if Brian had come to his senses—if he’d given Moni back the virtual wand. More likely Todd was still using the Dark Side of the Force to control Brian’s actions.

I stepped in a slow circle, doing a pom-pom shake and Sheila’s patented hip thrust. When the band played, we were supposed to dance—no matter what the song selection. According to Sheila, it gave the crowd something to look at.

Todd sulked with the members of the debate team on one end of the bleachers, while Chantal held court on the other.

Oh, yeah. The crowd was riveted. Moni glanced at me and crossed her eyes.

My legs trembled. My voice was hoarse. I’d lost five pounds in sweat since the game started, five pounds that had magically transferred to my pom-poms. Who knew fringe could be so heavy?

And it wasn’t even halftime.

If the sweat and the song were bad, having my back to the basketball court was worse. More than once, I turned to watch the game and track Jack’s progress up and down the court. Moni would nudge me when one of the senior cheerleaders threw us a dirty look.
Someone
had to follow the game, didn’t they? It was idiotic to cheer, “Shoot. Shoot. Shoot that ball for two!” when our team was on defense.

“Oh!” Moni said. “You’re not round and orange, you don’t bounce—much—but he still noticed you!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, while trying to cement the sweatiest strands of my hair behind my ears.

“Jack’s checking you out.”

I turned toward the team and Jack grinned at me, then huddled with Coach Miller and the other boys.

I tried hard not to smile. Jack was famous for his complete concentration during a game. He hated it when girls tried to distract him. Earlier, when he stood on the free-throw line, Kaleigh had shouted, “You’re so hot, you can’t miss a shot! Goooo, Jack!”

He missed.

For an instant Jack had turned a scowl on the entire cheerleading squad. Whoa.
Serious game face
.

“Way to go, Kaleigh,” said Moni, loud enough that everyone heard, including fans three rows deep in the bleachers, who laughed. After that, the squad’s mood shifted. When Kaleigh glared at us, the same unbearably hot gym turned suddenly chilly.

At the end of the first half, Chantal picked her way down the bleachers and whispered something to Cassidy. Elaine and Brianna scooted so far down the bench to make room for Chantal that I was bumped off and had to resort to kneeling. Everyone on the squad, except Moni, pretended not to notice. The two of us snuck off for a drink of water as the dance team took the court.

We returned in time to witness the end of their routine. For once, I was glad it was
cheerleading
Moni had talked me into. I might have to flash my purple butt to the crowds, but at least I didn’t have to spank it to a song called “Whip It.”

In a blur of purple and gold for the Panthers, and red and white for the Wilson Warriors, the boys jogged back into the gym. But it was Jack who had my attention. He’d taken a fall earlier, the result of a foul. I searched for signs of a limp, but he looked good, focused. He stretched and glanced my way again. I gave my pom-poms an extra shake.

The Warriors called the first time-out of the second half. It was our cue to rush the court and try something marginally innovative and generally dangerous. Usually that involved a perilous twelve-girl pyramid or tossing Moni, the smallest of us, into the air.

Cassidy put her hands together in a triangle, the signal for a pyramid, and Moni rolled her eyes. I swallowed a groan. Nothing like having half the squad on my back—literally. But when Moni dashed forward, I followed. It was all part of the deal. No burden was too heavy if it made my best friend happy.

Midcourt, before even turning to face the crowd, I knew. Oh God, I knew. It was me and Moni standing there.

And no one else.

We were stranded, midcourt, in front of the filled-to-capacity stands. Sometime between Cassidy’s hand signal and now, the rest of the squad had disappeared. Oh, there they were—on the sidelines, snickering at us. I searched for a friendly face and caught Chantal’s smirk, then Todd’s told-you-so expression. That said it all.

I scanned the bleachers for Sheila, though I knew she wasn’t there. She’d called Cassidy earlier—a flat tire had kept her away from the game. Thanks to that flat tire, Moni and I stood here, at the intersection of geek girl and humiliation.

Moni looked stricken. Her dad was up there in the bleachers. He’d driven all the way down from Minneapolis just to watch her cheer, then take her back for the weekend.

“Tryouts?” The word left my mouth before I really considered it. But what was the other option? We could slink back to the sidelines. Or we could make it look like we planned it all along.

“Shit,” Moni swore under her breath, then, “Tryouts. Ready? Okay.”

We did the cheer and jump sequence, the one with the ginormous finish. This time I added a herkie before the splits. I stuck the landing for an instant, then slid to the floor sideways. Moni flew over the top of me, a blur of gold and purple and way-too-close-to-my-head white Skechers.

The band didn’t play. No one clapped. No one cheered. On the sidelines, Kaleigh frowned. Cassidy looked confused.

Then a whoop came, not from the stands, but from behind us. One of the boys on the basketball team let out a yell so loud, it echoed through the gym. Its owner sounded a lot like Jack Paulson, but I didn’t dare turn to look.

The rest of the boys cheered then—from both teams. Their roar felt solid. Like if I leaned into the sound, it might support me. Finally, the crowd caught on. Even Todd joined in, his applause slow and steady. If anyone could clap sarcastically, it was him.

We sprang up and ran off the court.

“They hate us,” Moni said, pulling me close.

I looked down the bleacher row at Kaleigh and Cassidy. Their expressions made me think,
If looks really could kill, Moni and I are about to suffer a lethal dose.

“What do we do?” Moni asked.

What
could
we do? I crouched and scooped up both sets of pom-poms. I passed Moni a handful of purple and gold.

“I guess we cheer.”

Not even Jack’s best game could save the Panthers. We lost, seventy-five to seventy-two. Moni’s dad waited for us in the lobby.

“Well, that,” he said, nodding toward the gym and the scoreboard, “wasn’t you girls’ fault.” He grinned down at Moni. “I’m impressed, pumpkin. I didn’t know you could fly. And very cool for the rest of the squad to let you two strut your stuff.”

Oh yeah, yay for the rest of the squad—they were the
best
.

Moni rolled her eyes, but that Moni Lisa smile gave her away. With her dad’s new girlfriend out of town for the weekend, Moni had her father all to herself. Something, I knew, that didn’t happen often enough these days.

“And that Paulson kid.” Moni’s dad let out a whistle. “If the college recruiters haven’t spotted him yet, they will. He tore up the floor.”

“He’s crushing on Bethany,” Moni said.

“He is not,” I protested, but Mr. Fredrickson preferred to believe Moni’s version.

“In that case,” he said, “I’ll have to keep my eye on him. No one messes with my girls.”

On her way out the door, Moni glanced over her shoulder and mouthed,
Call me.

Like I would forget. Getting away with a phone call after midnight was easy now that I had my own line. But that was as far as my parents would go—no cell phone for me. I waited in line for the pay phone with the rest of the losers. A bunch of kids from Wilson High gave me funny looks. I looked down to make sure my skirt wasn’t stuck in my briefs, but no,
thank you, God
, that wasn’t the cause. I supposed they thought all cheerleaders came equipped with cell phones. Then I followed the group’s eyes from me to the gym doors. Of course. They were wondering what was going on. Over there, a group of cheerleaders stood alongside the football players, and the rest of the high school royalty, waiting for the dance to begin. And on the other side of the hall—the only cheerleader. Me.

Even the lamest kids knew how it worked. Sure, cheerleaders put in an
appearance
at the monthly dances sponsored by the Student Council, but that was only pre-gaming. The crowd would end up someplace like the old gravel pit, when the weather was warm, or Rick Mangers’s house when it was cold.

And clearly, I wasn’t invited.

Someone behind me brushed my leg. The touch of denim against my bare skin freaked me out. I shrugged on my coat and the wool heated up immediately, trapping my sweat. I felt totally out of place. Worse, everyone in the world must have forgotten to charge their cell phone batteries. The line for the pay phone was endless. Whatever the cause, while I waited, the Student Council cleared the gym, pushed back the bleachers, and got the DJ’s sound system set up.

The doors to the gym whooshed open and closed once the dance started. Snatches of music burst into the lobby, loud, then muted, then loud again. Halfway into sophomore year, Moni and I had given up on dances. Even if the debate dorks went, they never wanted to dance. Or worse, they thought it was cool to do the robot.

I’d just hung up the phone when the door to the gym swung open again. Inside it was dark, and I swore the scent of sweat still hung in the air. One song faded, and the DJ cued up something that sounded slow and syrupy. “This one goes out to all the members of the varsity cheerleading squad.” Oh, yeah. Sure it did.

Mercifully, the door closed and cut off the squeal, but the sound of it continued to ring in my head. I glanced at the parking lot, willing Dad to arrive, when pounding footsteps from the locker room hallway startled me. I pulled the coat tighter around my legs.

Jack Paulson rounded the corner, and his sneakers squeaked when he skidded to a halt. He swallowed a breath and stared at me. “Nice cheer,” he said.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly…”
Planned
, I’d started to say. But that would be like shining one of Todd’s nerd-a-licious light sabers on my moment of humiliation. “Good game tonight,” I said instead.

“We lost.”

Well, duh. I knew that. And I knew that boys—especially boys like Jack—hated losing. “But
you
were great,” I added.

He shrugged, then stepped closer. I clutched the pom-poms tight enough that the fringe rustled in the quiet lobby. Jack’s hair was damp from a shower, and I caught the warm, clean smell of him. Jeans, plain white T-shirt, a Prairie Stone letter jacket in gold with purple trim. All a boy like that needed to look good was a bar of soap. It wasn’t fair.

“So.” He nodded toward the gym. “You going inside?”

I gave the gym doors a glance before checking the parking lot. Any minute Dad would pull up in our prehistoric Volvo.

“I—my—I mean—” I was babbling. Again. But what was I supposed to say? My daddy was picking me up? So not cool.

“Uh.” He swiped at a few strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “I guess that would be a no.”

The gym doors opened. The music surged. Jack slipped away into the dark and sweat smell. And—I had no doubt—straight into the arms of a gauntlet girl.

“Okay,” Moni said. “One more time, tell me
exactly
what he said, word for word.”

“I told you. He said, ‘You. Going. Inside.’ That’s all. It’s not like he actually asked me to the dance or anything.”

Something that sounded like a raging blizzard assaulted my ear. I pulled the phone away and waited for Moni to calm down. “I can’t believe you’re so stupid about this stuff,” she said. “That’s how boys
do
it. Especially boys like Jack. That way, when you’re dumb enough to turn them down, they can rationalize that they never really asked you to begin with.”