Revenge of the Cheerleaders

by Janette Rallison

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "No matter what the topic of conversation is, you keep asking him questions about himself. Act like you want to talk about nothing but his thoughts, interests, and friends. If he mentions the sky is blue, you ask what he thinks about that and when he first noticed it. Don't say a word about yourself, and he'll worship you by the end of the date."

  We all stared at her for a moment. Then Aubrie said, "Don't guys think it's strange that you never say anything about yourself?"

  Rachel tilted her chin down. "Like they even notice. All the guys I date think I'm the best conversationalist in the world."

  "Wow," Samantha said slowly. "I'm not sure if that's incredibly brilliant or horribly manipulative."

  "Don't you get tired of just talking about the guy?" Aubrie asked.

  Rachel shrugged. "Sure. That's where kissing comes in handy."

  "I'll try it," I said.

  Samantha rolled her eyes, and Aubrie shook her head sadly, but Rachel gave me the thumbs-up sign.

  Chapter 10

  The school day went by, haltingly slow at some times and breakneck fast at others, depending on whether I was excited or dreading my date with Tanner. Mr. Metzerol didn't hit me quite as much with his stick during my lesson with him, which I figured was progress. Molly and Polly were still slouching around, which wasn't.

  Whenever I walked by him, Rick gave me dirty looks and mumbled things I knew I didn't want to hear. Rachel told me she'd heard through the grapevine that he thought I was responsible for Adrian breaking up with him. Which was typical Rick. I don't suppose it ever occurred to him that he had anything to do with it.

  I knew Adrian would take him back in a second if he apologized—not even to me—just to her, but I wasn't about to suggest it. As far as I was concerned, his relationship with her could fade away, destined to be remembered with the same fondness as dental work.

  I'd help her find someone new. Someone nice. Just as soon as she started speaking to me again. See, when you come right down to it, I'm much more forgiving of her than she is of me.

  I changed my clothes three times and my hair twice before I went off to meet Tanner. Mom hadn't come home from work yet, so I left her a note and hoped she didn't call me on my cell phone with objections.

  Tanner was already at the restaurant when I got there, and keeping with the trend, he looked even better than last time.

  He smiled when he saw me walk up. "Hi again."

  "Hi." Underneath the glow of his smile, I couldn't remember Rachel's instructions. In fact, I couldn't remember anything, like what to say next.

  He didn't seem to notice though, and he made small talk while the hostess seated us at our table. Probably he was used to girls being speechless around him.

  Dinner went surprisingly well. Mostly we stayed on safe topics—like our hobbies—we both loved skiing, and we made a date to go the first weekend after the lifts opened. We also talked about a lot of current events. I felt myself stretching to explain my opinions and the logic I'd used to reach them. He listened, and although he didn't agree with me about everything, he respected what I said. I could tell he was smart, and he made me feel like I was smart too.

  When had Mike ever made me feel that way?

  A few times the subject matter wandered dangerously close to identifying me as a high school senior. That's when I remembered Rachel's advice. When he asked what classes I had, I said, "Just the usual stuff. What about you? What's your favorite class?"

  It was biology, something that slightly bothered him since he'd already decided to go the MBA route. It was his family's way of life. They ran businesses.

  After that we talked about business, family expectations, and whether it was wise to strike out in new directions if other things interested you.

  When we finished dinner we wandered over to Baskin-Robbins for milk shakes. Not because we were hungry; neither of us wanted to say good night yet. The night air chilled my face as we walked, a reminder that November was here, and snow wouldn't be far behind. We took our cups and strolled over to the patio area near the river. The Palouse River is actually more of a stream as it runs through Pullman, and it mostly consists of mud, but it was nice to sit on a bench and look at it, because I was alone with Tanner.

  He asked me where I lived—a definite danger area. If I told him, "With my family" he'd ask why. I hesitated and said, "Your parents run the Hilltop, so they must be residents. Do you live with them or on campus?"

  True to Rachel's advice, he didn't seem to notice I hadn't answered his question. He said, "I'm in Perham Hall."

  "Didn't want to live with your parents?"

  "Didn't want to live with my brother."

  "Oh, you don't get along?"

  He shrugged. "Some of the time we do, but most of the time I want to kill him." He paused for a moment. "You probably think I'm terrible for saying that, don't you?"

  "No. I have a little sister, remember?"

  "Oh yeah." He shot me a smile. "Tell me about your sister."

  Danger area. I smiled back at him. "Tell me about your brother."

  He leaned back on his hands, considering. "My brother is the smartest person I know, but he's devoted his entire life to slacking off. I can't tell you the last time he helped out at the restaurant."

  I nodded. "My sister blames me for all her problems."

  Tanner held out his hand as though showing me something. "My brother hates everything I do. I did sports, so he won't. I got good grades, so he won't. If I've done anything, it isn't cool."

  I took a sip of my shake. "My sister refuses to think about her future, plus most of the time she dresses like the bride of Satan."

  "My parents would never let me get away with half the stuff my brother gets away with."

  "Exactly," I said, relieved that he understood—and surprised that I'd found someone who felt like I did. "My mother is too busy dealing with my sister to pay attention to my life."

  Tanner nodded and turned back to me. "It sounds like they'd make quite a pair. Maybe we should get them together."

  I shook my head and fast. "No way. My sister just broke up with her loser boyfriend. I'm hoping next time she'll choose someone who wants to reform her."

  Tanner shrugged. "Yeah, and actually my brother already has a loser girlfriend." He gave me a quirky smile. "She drives my parents crazy. All you have to do is say the word 'grand-kids' and my mom shudders."

  I raised my cup in a toast. "Here's to our future family reunions. May the normal people outnumber the hoodlums and slackers."

  Tanner tapped his cup into mine. "We can always hope."

  We both took a drink, but the next moment my relief gave way to sadness. Adrian and I had been so close when we were younger. Would it ever be that way again?

  I looked down into my cup and didn't say anything. I felt Tanner's gaze on me, but he didn't say anything either. Maybe he understood my silence just like he'd understood my complaints.

  Finally I looked back up at him. "I really love her," I said. "I worry about her all the time."

  He put his hand on my back and rubbed a slow pattern of consolation across the material of my jacket. "I know what you mean."

  He kept rubbing my back and I leaned my head into the crook of his shoulder. How had this happened so fast? Usually on a first date I worried about what kind of impression I made. I'd not only told Tanner about Adrian, I'd leaned into his shoulder like I'd known him forever.

  Neither of us said anything for a moment. Then Tanner said, "I'm sure you're a really good sister."

  I straightened up to tell him he was wrong. There were many times when I was an awful sister, but before I could say anything he leaned over and kissed me. Which put thoughts of Adrian right out of my mind.

  It's not that I hadn't been kissed before. But kissing Tanner made me feel like it was the first time. My heart pounded and I felt dizzy and happy and awkward all at the same time.

  When he finally stopped kissing me, I did
n't know what to say and felt myself blush bright red. That's the problem with blushing. Telling yourself that you shouldn't do it, doesn't help at all.

  Tanner smiled at me then looked away. I could tell he was weighing some matter in his mind, trying to decide something. At last he said, "My grandmother is coming from California for a visit in a few days. We're having a big family dinner up at the house on Monday. I know it might seem too soon to meet my family but it would be nice to have you there, you know, to kind of balance out my brother's loser girlfriend and show Grandma that one of us has normal taste. Do you want to come?"

  "Sure." That's how much I liked Tanner. I wanted to spend time with him even if it meant meeting his family, his slacker brother, and a loser girlfriend.

  I spent the rest of the week working on homework, singing practice, and dance rehearsal. We had it down perfectly, and it looked good. Sometimes while we ran through it, I imagined myself performing under a spotlight that illuminated me to thousands of screaming fans. What would it feel like to be a star? To be rich? To be famous?

  Even though I tried to be realistic and not get my hopes up, thoughts would pop into my mind. I'd look across our cramped kitchen and think, "If I had a music deal, I could buy my mother a new house."

  Unfortunately this thought was quickly followed by, "If my dad found out I was rich, he would try to take the money from me."

  I spent about half an hour one night worrying about this, and remembering the times when I was little and he emptied my piggy bank because he needed money for liquor. My father wasn't nice when he was sober, but he was worse when he was drunk. I didn't have a good childhood.

  Most of my early years were spent watching out for Adrian because she was a couple of years behind me in understanding how to keep out of his way. We either roamed around the neighborhood like miniature nomads on bikes, or we hid in my room, inventing fairy spells to keep him away. Our best one was touching the doorknob, then tapping the edge of the door three times when we passed by.

  Even after Dad moved out, Adrian kept doing the spell for years. She said it worked on keeping all sorts of bad things away, and I admit I did it periodically for insurance that he wouldn't come back.

  You would think the courts wouldn't have given my father joint custody of us, but they did. So we're all just glad he lives far away and never visits. Once in a while he calls, mostly to complain how my mother has ruined his life, and how he can't pay child support, but we can live with that.

  If I came into any money before I turned eighteen though, could he get a hold of it?

  This caused me actual anxiety until I realized my father wasn't likely to even call before I turned eighteen let alone find out my financial status, so I had nothing to worry about. I let myself return to the daydream of being discovered, of hearing myself on the radio, of Mr. Metzerol just once nodding proudly and telling me my potential was officially shaped.

  In real life, Mr. Metzerol continued to prod and poke me through my voice lessons. He told me that Molly and Polly still refused to sing solo. He said this like I could change their minds. Right. I couldn't even get them to agree to come to the movies with a few people from school, and believe me, I tried.

  Samantha and I invited Aubrie, Rachel, and half the football team—including Joe—to go to the movies with us on Friday. Molly and Polly wouldn't come though, because in English class Polly heard Joe say he was going bowling. Yes, bowling. I was trying to play Cupid and the boy would rather flatten a bunch of bowling pins.

  Mike and Naomi, of course, showed up. This hardly bothered me though, because while we stood in line to buy tickets, Tanner text messaged me twice from work. He complained that the weekends were the busiest time for restaurants and tried to entice me to stop in by telling me the specials. The lobster is fresh, he wrote. Like I needed lobster to persuade me to see him. If I hadn't been stuck in line, he could have lured me in with dry toast and pretzels.

  I must have been smiling a lot because while I texted him back, a couple of the guys commented on what a good mood I was in.

  "It's the new boyfriend," Rachel told them. "Chelsea's seeing a college man."

  They both went "Ohhhh," like it explained everything.

  "It's not that," I said. "It's just that life is a wonderful, precious gift so we should be happy."

  Both of the guys laughed and one said, "Yeah, she's got it bad."

  The other imitated my voice and said, "Life is a precious gift. Well, my life, anyway. Your life ain't worth squat because you ain't got my boyfriend."

  And they laughed some more. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Mike. He wasn't laughing. In fact he glared over at us, but I didn't care.

  On Saturday and Sunday I doubled my singing practice, but I still couldn't get notes to properly come out of my forehead. I followed Mr. Metzerol's instructions. I went around for an hour doing diaphragm exercises and practicing scales. Once when I got to the point where I sang, "Mi-mi-mi-mimi-mi-mi-ii" Adrian strolled by and shook her head. "Isn't that the truth?"

  Instead of getting Adrian in trouble for this kind of commentary, Mom bent over backward to be nice to her. On Sunday when Adrian skipped out on helping with the dinner dishes and disappeared into her room—an impenetrable fortress of screeching guitar music—instead of calling her to come out and help, Mom just did Adrian's j ob for her.

  "She's having a hard time right now," Mom told me as she cleared off the table. "We can be sensitive about that."

  "No one was sensitive to me when Mike dumped me."

  "But you've dated lots of boys," Mom said. "We knew you'd find someone else quickly. And you have. Don't you have a date tomorrow?"

  Well yes, but there had still been several weeks that I had sworn off men altogether and no one had done the dishes for me.

  "Adrian dumped Rick, not the other way around," I said. "I don't see why she's so upset about it."

  Mom poured uneaten green beans into a container and put them on a shelf in the fridge, where we would undoubtedly ignore them until they went bad. "Why don't you try to talk to her about it?"

  After I finished loading the dishwasher, I went up to Adrian's room. She was sprawled out on her bed painting her toenails black, intent on ignoring me. I walked over to her CD player, turned down the music so she could hear me, and in my most sensitive voice, I asked her how she was doing. Then I gave her the "There-are-other-fish-in-the sea" pep talk, followed by the "I'11-help-you-go-fishing" pep talk.

  She looked at me in stony silence for a moment then said, "First of all, you don't understand anything about Rick. Second, you don't understand how I feel. You've never lost anyone you've cared about because you don't really care about guys. They're all just one more picture to make your my space look like you've got an online hot-guy fan club. Mike, by the way, was a total flake."

  And Rick wasn't? This was a little like the Corn Flakes insulting the Wheaties.

  "Third," Adrian said, "I wouldn't trust you where guys are concerned, anyway. You'd set me up with someone and then decide you wanted him yourself."

  That stung, but I should have expected it. It was the one card Adrian pulled out any time she wanted to trump whatever I said and show me what a horrible person I was.

  You see, there was this thing about a year ago. . . . No, it's been longer than that. It happened during the end of my sophomore year; it just seems more recent because the memory hasn't faded.

  When had Adrian started to like Travis Woods? I couldn't remember. Sometime in elementary school. She used to watch out our living room window for him every morning so we could time our walk to school with his. I thought it was cute, sweet, even if I didn't know what she saw in him. To me, Travis was just another slightly annoying boy in my class.

  It wasn't like Adrian sat around pining for him when he didn't notice her. By seventh grade she had rotating crushes. But even then Travis was always in the background of her thoughts. He grew six inches and filled out into a good-looking guy, which goes to show you t
hat Adrian has an eye for potential. I didn't blame her anymore for liking him. A lot of girls liked him.

  When she came to see all of the freshman football games, I knew it wasn't to watch me cheer. Her eyes were glued on number 96. When we ran into each other in the neighborhood, she always complimented him on whatever pass, tackle, or interception he'd made. He thanked her with this quirky smile, like he didn't deserve the hero worship, but appreciated it anyway.

  The next year when I put together that sophomore biology study group, I did it with Adrian in mind. Travis would be there. Granted, I knew nothing would happen between them. I mean, let's face it, no self-respecting sophomore guy hits on an eighth-grade girl, but we were laying the groundwork for her freshman year, just a few short months away.

  During every study group, Adrian hung around, finding ways to linger near Travis. Often she lingered too long and said stupid things. I tried to coach her on the delicate balance between letting a guy know you're interested and trapping him on the couch with stories of your PE flag football adventures, but she wouldn't listen to me. Apparently I no longer knew what I was talking about. In her mind she had already made the jump to high school, and she didn't need me to navigate her course.

  I could see Travis mentally labeling her as an annoyance, a groupie. He pulled away from her, cut her out of the conversation. The harder I tried to convince Adrian to ease up, the harder she tried to get his attention. She actually asked him about his summer schedule and then tried to invite herself to some of his activities.

  Which was pretty much the kiss of death. She'd killed her chances and didn't even know it.

  After our last study group ended, Travis left, then came back five minutes later. He'd forgotten his notes. Adrian had gone to her room and I was in the middle of cleaning up soda cans and half-empty bowls of popcorn. He picked up his notes then helped me take dishes into the kitchen.

  We'd left a few things out in the living room, but I felt bad making him clean. "I can get the rest," I said.

  "No, I'll get it," he said, then paused a foot away from me. "Is Adrian around?"