Alexis's Half-Baked Idea

by Coco Simon

  “Ooh, gifts!” cried Katie, popping up to retrieve the pile of items for me that were on the front hall table.

  There were lots of small gifts from my random “friends,” impersonal but thoughtful and nice things like hand lotion and a ring holder and a pompom key chain. Then it was time for the presents from my closest friends.

  Katie’s gift was beautifully wrapped in rose-patterned paper, which I tried to preserve as I opened it. I smiled at her as I got it off, and then I looked at the box in my hands. A new . . . calculator. Wow. Good times. I looked up and made myself smile at her.

  “Thanks, Katie! This is so thoughtful. It’s just what I need!”

  Katie smiled and gestured at the box. “See, it’s solar-powered. I know you have that old adding machine of your mom’s, but it always needs to be plugged in. This is mobile, and you can use it at school when you aren’t allowed to use your phone.”

  I looked down at the box. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.” I set it aside and selected a small, flat box wrapped in striped paper.

  “This one’s from me!” said Emma, sitting up expectantly. “I got it for you in the city.”

  “Ooh! Goody!” I said in anticipation. I pulled off the paper and found . . . a blank book.

  “It’s a planner!” said Emma. “It’s so you! Open it! See how it’s got the weekly and daily action items, plus the section for long-term goals that you can carry over? And look at the cover. It’s nice and bright, so you’ll never forget it anywhere. Not that you ever forget things, but still.”

  “Wow!” I said. “It is just perfect. You’re right. It’s so me! Thanks so much, Em.”

  Emma beamed and wiggled happily.

  The final present, besides Dylan’s, was obviously from Mia. It was wrapped in a section of batik cloth that had been gathered up and tied with a huge floppy bow at the top. It was very stylish, like Mia.

  “Nice, Mia. This is so pretty!”

  She smiled. “I know you’re going to be happy with this gift!”

  “I’m sure I will be,” I agreed as I eagerly unwrapped it to find . . . measuring cups.

  Mia leaned in. “You kept saying in our last two meetings here that you said your kitchen needed new measuring cups. So, here you go! And . . . you’ll be happy to know I got them on sale, so they were not pricey. Bam! You’re welcome!”

  “They’re great. Thank you. Obviously, just what I needed, and I bet at a great price, too.”

  “And now mine!” said Dylan, passing me her gift. It was a little heavy and in a cardboard box. I refrained from making a snide comment like, Granny underpants? Vitamins? A savings account? I wondered what other practical gift I could possibly get.

  I ripped through the paper and lifted the box’s top, just wanting to get it over with.

  Inside was a beautiful black velvet dress. Gently, I lifted it from the box, and it unfolded and softly unfurled, revealing pink, orange, and red roses embroidered all over it, with green leaves climbing the length of it.

  “WOW! Dylan!” I cried. “This is so beautiful!” I popped up from my seat and held the dress against me, turning this way and that.

  My friends all marveled at the dress. “Dylan has such an incredible sense of style,” said Mia.

  Dylan put her palms out defensively. “I know, I know, Alexis. It’s got to be dry-cleaned, and that will be expensive, and where will you ever wear it, and it was probably too pricey and I should take it back and wait for it to go on sale. . . .” Dylan waved her hand dismissively. “But I just thought you had to have this dress, no matter what. It’s going to look beautiful on you, practicality be darned!”

  I crossed the room and crushed her in a hug. “I love it. Thank you so much. Thank you so very much!” I got a little misty-eyed. “This was such a beautiful party, and I love my presents. You all know me so well. Thank you for such a special day.”

  “Group hug!” cried Katie, jumping up from the sofa. We did a big group squeeze, even with Dylan, and they sang happy birthday to me as we hugged it out.

  It wasn’t until later that night, when I was finally alone, that I really had time to think about my gifts.

  CHAPTER 4

  Team Go!

  I was showered and clean, my makeup removed, teeth brushed, parents kissed, tucked into bed, and I couldn’t stop thinking.

  The party had been so nice, and there were all those thoughtful touches: the cake, the decorations, the red velvet cupcakes, Matt . . .

  But the only thing I could think about was how boring I was and how great Dylan was. Like, my best friends gave me a calculator, a planner, and measuring cups for my birthday? And my crush gave me a pen?

  Meanwhile, Dylan planned an incredible party and made me look amazing and came up with every little perfect detail.

  I smacked my palms against my mattress in frustration and rolled over, jerking my covers along with me. Why wasn’t I fun and jazzy and full of creativity like Dylan? Why was I boring and practical and unfun? Why couldn’t I do small talk with randoms and discover things like cakefetti and charm everyone to death?

  I was tired of being the boring sister. I needed some new hobbies ASAP. And they had to be fun and cool ones. No more conga lines with the FBLA. I had to think up something big.

  It struck me just before math class Monday morning. I was taking my notebook out of my backpack and feeling a little grumpy because I hadn’t come up with a plan to be unboring, when an announcement over the PA system caught my attention.

  It was a friendly and peppy girl’s voice, speaking over some fun dance music. “Hey, everyone! It’s Ceci Shanahan! I’m the captain of cheerleading this year, and I’d love for you to come and try out for the squad! Sign-ups are outside the cafeteria, and we start auditions today in the gym right after school. Come on out! It’s lots of fun!”

  Hmm, I thought. Dylan had been a cheerleader when she was here at Park Street Middle School, and she’d learned a lot from it: how to do her makeup, how to talk to boys, how to perform in front of a crowd, how to be more peppy. Maybe if I became a cheerleader, I’d loosen up a little, make a few fun friends, and get outside my comfort zone. Why not?

  When I passed the cafeteria later on in the morning, I dashed over and put my name into the first slot I saw on the sign-up sheet. I’d just stay in my sports clothes after PE and pop into the gym for tryouts. Nothing special. I knew some routines from when I’ve watched Dylan cheer. I am a good dancer, so I could knock those out in my sleep. And Ceci Shanahan was a really nice girl. She would set a good tone for the group, so it wouldn’t be snarky or mean. I allowed myself a tiny bit of hope as I looked forward to the tryouts after school.

  Wait, whaaaaat? Did I say “hope”? Did I actually say I was looking forward to the tryouts? Wow.

  As PE class drew to a close, more and more girls asked the teacher if they could please go to the bathroom. Since it was so late, she told them to go ahead and hit the locker room afterward and she’d see them next time. By the time the bell rang, I was one of the only girls left in gym. I soon found out why.

  The bathroom was jammed with girls in cute short skirts and fitted tops, slathering on makeup and hair-spraying their strands into elaborate coifs. I choked and waved the air in front of my face as I tried to walk through the cloud of body sprays and perfumes. The chatter was at a high decibel level, ricocheting off the tiles, which amplified the noise to a deafening roar. Everyone was discussing cheer tryouts. Apparently, people had heard rumors about the upcoming tryouts and had been practicing for weeks, studying routines on YouTube and ordering outfits from Amazon.

  I was in way over my head.

  I quickly used the bathroom and went back to my gym locker to grab my things. I had on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, my usual gym attire. I hadn’t thought anything of it earlier, but now it was clear I was wildly underdressed. As I exited the locker room, I made a beeline to cross my name off the schedule, but the sign-up sheet was gone! Someone had already removed it from the bulletin
board. I leaned back against a bulletin board and closed my eyes, rolling my head from side to side. Should I just bag it all and go home without crossing my name off the list? Would Ceci Shanahan stand there calling my name? How many times would she call for me before she realized I wasn’t there? Would everyone then know I’d chickened out? What should I do?

  As I stood there paralyzed, watching people stream into the gym, suddenly, Ceci herself popped her head out of the double doors to scan the hallway for latecomers. She spotted me and walked over.

  “Hey, Alexis! I’m so happy you’re coming out today! I’ve seen your sister cheer, and it would be an honor to have another Becker on the squad!” She smiled in a warm and welcoming fashion, her blue eyes twinkling, and then I saw her notice my outfit. She was too kind to say anything critical, but she hesitated. “We’re just about to get started. Are you all set?”

  I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t figure out how to get out of it. It was like I was already strapped into the roller coaster, and I just had to go on the ride in order to get out the other side.

  “Yup. I guess so,” I said, pushing myself off the bulletin board.

  “Come on in, then. We’ll get things going on time today.”

  I followed Ceci blindly, her long, reddish brown curls bouncing and glinting, and I regretted having done absolutely nothing with my hair.

  “Ceci!” I grabbed her in a panic, and she turned, a look of concern on her face.

  “Are you okay, Alexis?”

  I took a deep breath through my nose. “I . . . I hadn’t known about the tryouts today, so I’m . . . I don’t have an outfit. . . . I didn’t bring anything for my . . . hair or makeup or anything . . .” I gestured to my face.

  Ceci smiled and linked her arm through mine comfortingly. “Alexis, these girls watch too much TV. We are not a glamour squad. We’re just here to have fun and celebrate our players together. You’re so naturally pretty, and I think you’re smart to be comfortably dressed for tryouts. Some of those girls’ shirts are so tight, they won’t be able to even lift their arms. She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “I know you’ll be great. Don’t worry. Just remember to breathe. Like, start now. . . .” She laughed.

  I sighed heavily. “Okay. Okay. I’ll . . . I can try. I . . . How long do I have before I go on?” I figured I could watch a couple of girls and then go out in the hall to practice a bit before I went on.

  Ceci bit her lip and looked at me kindly. “Alexis, you signed up to go first.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “I did?”

  Ceci nodded. “I can push you to the end of the list, but sometimes, if we run over, the janitor shuts us down and we won’t have time to see you. You’re really better off going first and getting it over with.”

  Now it was my turn to bite my lip.

  Ceci leaned in and spoke softly and calmly to me. “Listen, my little brother, John, has some special needs, and we always have him do a few yoga poses when he’s wound up. Do you know any? You could do them as warm-ups?”

  “Maybe . . .” She had a point. I did know a few. . . .

  “What does Dylan do before she cheers? Did she ever share her training or warm-ups with you?”

  My heart sank. “Probably. I just can’t remember. It’s okay. I’ll just go ahead and do my routine, for better or for worse.”

  Ceci looked at me earnestly, her blue eyes pooling with concern. “Are you sure?”

  I exhaled quickly. “Yup. I’m just going to do what I came to do, and then I’ll be moving along. Thanks, Ceci. I really appreciate your help.”

  Ceci smiled warmly. “You’re going to be great. I know it. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks.”

  I walked over to the bleachers to stow my stuff, and as I did, who should come flouncing past but Olivia Allen, our grade’s resident mean girl. She passed me, and then she did a theatrical double take, like superexaggerated, while clutching her chest.

  “Alexis Becker? At cheer tryouts? You can’t be serious?” She scanned the crowd to see if she could catch anyone’s eye, presumably so they could laugh at me together, but no one was looking at her. She looked back down at me. “Hoping you’ve got a little of your sister’s mojo? Or maybe just some goodwill from the organizers? You know, Alexis, you can’t ride on Dylan’s coattails forever.” And she marched away.

  Great.

  Ceci Shanahan stepped up in front of the judges’ table with a megaphone. She was friendly, poised, and confident.

  “Hey, girls! Welcome! I’m Ceci Shanahan, and I am so happy to see you all out here today for cheering! We’re going to have lots of fun but the most important thing is to be kind to one another. Everyone’s taking a risk today, putting themselves out here, and cheerleading is all about encouragement! So, I want to see you supporting your fellow cheerleaders, okay?”

  The crowd went wild, obviously demonstrating their cheering abilities.

  Just then, the gym doors opened, and the entire boys’ basketball team entered single file and climbed the bleachers. I couldn’t look but I knew Matt’s buddy Greg had to be there. I’d forgotten that Dylan had once told me they had a tradition where the boys’ teams watched the girls’ cheerleading tryouts each season.

  Just when I though it couldn’t get any worse! My palms were actively sweating now.

  Ceci laughed and said into her megaphone, “Hi, boys! Thanks for coming. Just reminding our group here that this is a supportive atmosphere, and cheerleading is about telling people they are doing a greeeeeaaaaaat job!” Ceci pumped her fist in the air and the crowd went wild again. She quieted them down and reached back to the table for her clipboard.

  “Okay, today we’re starting with Alexis Becker. Alexis is so brave to go first, but that’s because she’s a great dancer. Please give it up for Alexis!”

  The bleachers exploded, and somehow my brain propelled my body onto my feet, which started walking toward the judges’ table. Ceci handed me two pompoms, and I took my spot on the X taped on the floor.

  I stood there for a few seconds, trying to breathe, staring out at the crowd, searching for Greg but finding Olivia Allen instead. She was snickering at me. Maybe it was just a smile, but it looked like a snicker. I had never been so underprepared for something in my life. It was totally unlike me to wing anything.

  Ceci whispered from behind me, “Whenever you’re ready, Alexis. You can do it!”

  Oh, why didn’t I make a list of moves I have seen Dylan do? Why didn’t I tell my friends— They would have talked me out of it! What do I even cheer about? What would Dylan do?

  That’s what finally got me moving. I just channeled Dylan.

  I lifted my pompoms into the air and started marching in place. I began with the usual chant: “Ready . . . okay. Here we go! Give me a T!”

  There was silence.

  “They can’t hear you,” whispered Ceci, coaching from behind me. “Be louder. Like really loud!”

  “Okay, give me a T!” I bellowed.

  The crowd yelled, “T!”

  Whoa! Okay.

  “Give me an E!”

  “E!”

  “Give me an A!”

  “A!”

  “Give me a M!”

  “M!”

  “Give me a G!”

  “G!”

  “Give me an O!”

  “O!”

  “What does that spell?”

  The crowd didn’t respond. So I did a twirl and yelled, “Team go!”

  Wait, what? What did I just spell?

  “Go, team!” I corrected.

  “Go, team!” cheered the crowd.

  Meanwhile, throughout all this, I was stomping and spelling out each letter with the pompoms while shaking my hips, like I’d seen Dylan do a million times. But I’d reached the end of my cheer and I couldn’t think of anything else. Like my mind was literally as dry and blank as a desert. I kept kind of marching in place for a minute and shaking the pompoms, but that was all I had. Finally, I gave th
em one last big shake, and I turned and put them down on the judges’ table.

  “Nice job, Alexis,” Ceci said with an encouraging smile. The other two judges just looked confused, like Was that all?

  My face was purple with embarrassment as I walked quickly back to the bleachers to grab my things. Somehow Olivia had sidled down next to my spot while I was cheering.

  “I can’t even believe you’re Dylan Becker’s sister! She’d die of shame if she’d seen that!” she said in her usual nasty little tone.

  I glared at her, but I couldn’t trust my voice to say anything. I cast one last hopeless glance back toward the boys’ basketball team. I looked up into the stands and happen to catch Greg’s eye. He gave me a little wave, but his face said it all: What was that about?

  I made it out of the school, dramatically smashing through the double doors and stalking to my bike in the rack, without crying. But as soon as I strapped on my helmet and began to pedal, the tears started to flow. Always one to be cautious, I pedaled a bit slower than usual because of my tears.

  Of all the dumb ideas! What was I thinking? I shuddered, picturing the looks on people’s faces as they waited for me to continue and then realized that I wasn’t. I wiped my cheek on my shoulder. I couldn’t wait to get home.

  What was I going to do now to become peppier and more fun? I’d been the center of attention today, just like Dylan usually is, but it was for all the wrong reasons, and it was my own fault.

  As soon as I got home, I did the only thing I could think of to make myself feel better. I got into a nice, hot bath and . . . pretended I was a duck again—and let the day roll off my back.

  CHAPTER 5

  Branching Out

  I would have stayed home sick the next day except I had an FBLA meeting after school and a quiz prep in Spanish that I didn’t want to miss. Instead, I wore a hat and my glasses instead of contacts, and I kept a low profile, hoping no one would say anything to me about the tryouts. I avoided eye contact in the halls and stayed mum in my classes, which was very unlike me.