Pyramid of One

by Zoe Evans

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division * 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020 www.SimonandSchuster.com * Copyright © 2011 by Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Text by Alexis Barad-Cutler

  Designed by Giuseppe Castellano

  Manufactured in the United States of America 0611 OFF

  First Edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4424-2239-1 (pbk)

  ISBN 978-1-4424-2240-7 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2011924449

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  The gym at Port Angeles School was even noisier than usual this afternoon when I met up with my cheer co-captain, Jacqueline Sawyer, to lug the boxes that had arrived at my house earlier this morning over to the rowdy group of cheerleaders in their designated corner. I couldn’t wait to show the Titans the new uniforms I designed for their team—for REALZ this time. Well, I mean, I DID design them the last time-it’s just that there was an itsy—bitsy mix—up when Jacqui submitted the designs to the uniform company. See, she kinda put her own spin on them so that when the Titans got their new uniforms, instead of saying “Titans” on the shirts, it read “Tight Ends.” This was Jacqui’s way of getting back at her old teammates for kicking her off the squad, but it also put me in a totally awkward position.

  Ridiculous!! It looked like a football uniform married a cheerleader uniform and then had a baby uniform that went onto the discount rack at Filene’s Basement. Total fashion faux pas.

  Anyway, I made good on my promise to get the uniforms right this time, and thankfully, Jacqui stayed out of my way. Well, the truth is, she’s back to (kinda) being friends again with Katie Parker, Titan head cheerleader and all—around Miss Perfect.

  “Watch out, Grizzlies coming through!” cried Hilary Cho when she spotted us. Then she did a little roar, like a bear. Ha-ha. Get it? Grizzly Bears? Like I haven’t heard that one before.

  So, Hilary is the third girl in what my friends and I like to call the “Triumvirate” of the Titan cheerleaders: Katie Parker, Clementine Prescott, and Hilary Cho. Hilary pretty much just goes along with whatever Katie and Clementine think is cool. She’s a total sheep. Baa, baa.

  I hate it when the Titans get all snotty like that. I mean, the Grizzly Bears are cheerleaders too! Ok, so we’re kind of at the bottom of the cheerleading food chain. We don’t, you know, walk down the hall strutting our killer abs and supershort skirts. And until just recently, we were living in uniforms from, like, twenty years ago. Gross! We’re not friends with the football jocks (so annoying) and we don’t have prime real estate in the cafeteria (Ha! We’re lucky if we have a table at all). See map of caf.

  Some might say we don’t do or have those things because we are, like, so ABOVE that. Really? We don’t because we can’t. We’re the B-team. The Grizzlies were formed because the school felt that no one should be turned away from wanting to participate in school-spirit-related activities. Anyone who doesn’t make the cut for Titan tryouts automatically gets to be on the Grizzly squad. Hooray! So that’s where we come in: We are the voice of the uncoordinated. We also come in handy when the Titans are so busy competing to get to Nationals that they can’t cheer at our school’s games. I mean, who else would cheer for debate team, chess club, or math league?

  But still, there’s no need for people like Hilary to rub it in our faces.

  I’m far from uncoordinated, but I know I’m not quite Nationals material. Still I’m a way better cheerleader than anyone on my team (except for Jacqui, obvs, but she WAS a Titan once, after all). My ultimate dream is to be a Titan. I just keep hoping that if I practice harder, learn the Titans’ killer choreography, and hit every stunt, I’ll be good enough to wear one of the uniforms I worked so hard designing for their squad.

  It would be nice if I had more time to work on my clothing designs, though. Sometimes it feels sort of like an obsession. When I’m not sketching out new stunts for my team in this here journal, I’m pretty much designing clothes (and cheer outfits).

  “So, what’s with the boxes?” asked Clementine, Triumvirate Member #2. “Make it quick. We’re bugging out.” (Ugh. Being on Clementine’s bad side is never a good idea. Ever. She can cut you with just one nasty look, seriously. Once, she looked at a seventh grader funny and the girl broke out in hives!! For realz.)

  I explained that I was about to present her and her team with new uniforms. Of course this got Clementine’s attention. (Anything having to do with Clementine usually does.) She knelt down beside the box I’d opened to grab one of the plastic—wrapped uniforms.

  “Huh, this doesn’t look like a disaster,” she said, checking out the skirt appreciatively. This was a high compliment coming from Clementine. She smoothed the skirt against her spray—tanned legs. “Ooh, and it’s short, too!”

  I could just see her thinking about how great it will look on her when she prances down the halls of Port Angeles (as if she needs MORE guys looking in her direction).

  Jacqui started opening another box just as Katie came over to us looking flustered.

  “Oh, good! The uniforms!” she said, tightening her ponytail nervously. “Hey, thanks, Madison. We’ve got to make this quick, though. We’re starting to get ready for the Regional Qualifier today.”

  Sigh. The Regional Qualifier. As soon as she breathed those words, I had this insane feeling of jealousy. Which I HATE. But I would kill to be in one of those competitions. The Regional Qualifier is, like, one of THE most important ones of the year. If your team places in it, then you get to go on to the Regional Championships. Without qualifying for Regionals? You can kiss Nationals (i.e., the holy grail of cheer competitions) good-bye.

  “These are amazing!” squealed Katie, holding a uniform out in front of her. “OMG, Madison. Loves!”

  She was literally smiling from ear to ear. Jacqui gave me a little wink.

  “Awesome. Glad you guys like ’em,” I said.

  T.G. I’m BEYOND relieved. I mean, can you even imagine what would’ve happened if she’d, like, hated them? I couldn’t mess up AGAIN!! Not with my future team captain (fingers crossed! ). Also, Katie and I have become more friendly just recently. I bet if I hadn’t made these uniforms look perfect, she would’ve gone right back to ignoring me. No, thank you!

  “Hey, Coach!” shouted Clementine. “Look!” She pointed to the boxes of uniforms.

  Coach Whipley glanced in our direction, then gave Clementine the thumbs-up. (Obviously uniforms aren’t a big deal to her. Hmph!) Then she started barking orders about permission slips and choosing roommates for the overnight stay at the competition site. Jacqui and I took that as our cue to leave and headed over to the Grizzly corner of the gym.

  As we walked to our
mat to start stretching I asked Jacqui if the Titans always get this freaked before big competitions.

  “Well, the Titans don’t take any competition lightly,” she said with a laugh. “But I heard that this year a lot of schools are nervous about the qualifier because the judges are supposed to be pickier than ever.”

  “Hmm,” I said, starting on some neck rolls. “So, how often are the rumors true?”

  Jacqui looked off beyond the bleachers behind me, thinking. “Um, well, last year there was a rumor that teams would be judged superharshly on their dance routines, and in the end even the best dancers didn’t place as well as they usually do. So . . .” She shrugged.

  “Do you think the Titans really have anything to worry about?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” said Jacqui. “They don’t have me on the team anymore.” She laughed. “No, but seriously, even though they freak out, they always place.”

  Just then my mom—I mean, Coach Carolyn—walked into the gym, followed by the rest of my teammates. Sometimes I wonder how I got so “lucky” (yeah, right) that I get to hang with Mom not only at home, but at school, too. To what do I owe this honor?! I’m just glad she didn’t get an office here. That would have been THE END. I feel bad thinking this, but sometimes I wish my mom was more normal. Normal moms probably can’t say that they were homecoming queens, prom queens, cheerleading captains—basically every popular title a person can have. And it’s hard to be on the loser cheerleading team knowing that Mom’s cheer skills were legendary at my school. So when Jacqui convinced me that Mom should be the Grizzly coach, it was pretty rough. At first, all Mom could talk about was cheer, cheer, cheer. Oh, AND she was constantly butting in about Grizzly stuff that wasn’t really her problem. But ever since we had a big talk about it, I think it’s working out pretty well. Except for when she calls me “sweetie” at practice.

  “Hey, sweetie,” said Mom, ruffling my hair when she walked past me.

  Grrr.

  “Hi, sweeeetie!” teased Matt Herrington, one of the two ex-football-jocks on our squad.

  Ian McClusky, his partner in crime, chuckled behind him.

  I gave them both a dirty look. I think Matt and Ian might actually have some cheer potential, even though they’re total clowns. Their upper—body strength would make them really good bases for partner stunts—that is, if they didn’t get hysterical every time they had to lift one of us girls. Morons.

  “As captains, you know we can easily make you do, like, a hundred push—ups just for disrespecting us,” said Jacqui. This seemed to quiet them down.

  I started the team on our usual warm-up-some good stretches on the mat for our calves, hips, and hamstrings—and then back bends.

  “Help! Help!” someone squeaked. Tabitha Sue Stevens, of course. She was trying to get out of the stretch but had managed to get her neck into an awkward position. I went over to disentangle her from, um, herself. Tabitha Sue is one of my secret fave squad members because she’ll try anything at least once even if she’s terrified. She has the most spirit on the whole team—which annoys Jared Handler to no end since he would like to think he wins at being the most into the Grizzlies and into, well, everything cheer related. And Tabitha Sue always smiles after she falls. I placed my hand under the small of her back and helped her ease out of the stretch.

  “Thanks, Madison,” she said, wiping small beads of sweat from her forehead.

  “You got it,” I said. “Watch me do this one more time, and I’ll spot you next time, ok?”

  During a break I told the team about the Titans going to the Regional Qualifier.

  “Is zis competitive vat you call ‘beeg’?” asked Katarina Tarasov in her typical botched—up version of the English language. I heart Katarina a ton because she’s got mad gymnastics skillz, which definitely helps bring the Grizzlies up a notch.

  “Yeah, it’s one of the bigger competitions of the season,” my mom said. “It determines whether they’ll go to Regionals. I can guarantee you’ll be seeing the Titans work even harder than normal for the next few weeks.” She nodded to the corner of the gym where the Titans were practicing their perfect—looking jumps.

  “I’ve never seen the Titans in, like, ‘not cool’ mode,” said Matt. “They actually seem kind of nervous.”

  Jared squinted over at the cheerleaders. “No way—I don’t believe it. I think the only thing that would make Hilary or Clementine nervous is if Sephora ran out of their favorite lip gloss color.”

  Ian muttered something under his breath, probably a dig at Jared.

  “Oh, I’m thinking someone wants to do two hundred push—ups now,” Jacqui said, looking directly at Ian.

  Ian mimed a halo over his head with his index finger and smiled angelically.

  “Ok, guys, rest time is over,” I told them. “If you ever want to get your jumps to look like theirs, then partner up.”

  Everyone groaned because they knew what was coming. I had each person take turns putting his or her ankle on another person’s shoulder and having the other person go from a squatting position to standing until the person stretching couldn’t take it anymore. Jacqui and I have been doing this stretch for years—but the rest of the Grizzlies will never get their legs as high as ours if they don’t take their stretching to the next level.

  I saw that Mom was watching us practice, but she had a funny look on her face—like she was totally thinking about something else. Then it hit me! I know that look. It’s the look she has whenever she has something brutal in mind for me—or in this case, the Grizzlies. Something is brewing in Mom Brain. Why do I have a feeling it’s not going to be pretty?

  Tonight Mom was überquiet all through dinner. Too quiet. And she had that same weird expression on her face from earlier at practice. Again, NOT a good sign.

  “All right. What are you thinking? Spit it,” I said, trying to smile even though I was only half joking.

  She swallowed a sip of her skim milk and announced brightly, “The Grizzlies are going with the Titans to the Regional Qualifier.” Then she stuck her fork into a meatball and crossed her arms over her chest as if to say, “And that’s final!”

  My jaw almost fell into my spaghetti. The Grizzlies? At the qualifier? Uh, did she drink some Crazy with her milk? The Grizzlies don’t even cheer at real games. The squad can’t even do back tucks. No, scratch that—they can’t even do back walkovers! How did she think all of a sudden we would be good enough to compete at something like the Regional Qualifier?

  “Honey, relax. I didn’t mean the Grizzlies would be competing!” she said, reading my mind.

  I let out a breath of relief.

  “I meant that I think it would be a great idea for the Grizzlies to go along with the Titans and witness what a real competition is like,” Mom continued. “I remember the feeling of walking into one of the big competitions. The drama, the crowds, seeing all the other schools . . .” Mom’s eyes were wide with excitement, the way they get when she cartwheels down memory lane.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve read about how crazy those competitions can get. I’d actually love to see one up close and personal.”

  Ok, so Mom and I agreeing on something cheer related? This has NOT been happening a lot lately. We should’ve taken a snapshot of that moment and put it in a frame for Maddy Alley. Sure, it would’ve looked a little out of place next to all the pics of me in my dance and gymnastics uniforms through the years. But still, when I think about how much Mom and I were fighting just a month ago, it’s kind of a big deal when we think like a team about cheerleading.

  “I’m going to talk to Principal Gershon and see what we can do,” said Mom. “I think it will be good for the squad, you know? They’ll be able to see why we work them so hard—and also see that competing isn’t just cute dances and fun tricks.”

  “Oh, Mom, don’t crush Jared’s dreams,” I said. (Mean joke, I know.)

  I wonder how the Grizzlies will react to seeing a Regional Qualifier up close. . . . We only really get to s
ee the Titans show off at home games, which is intimidating enough. I can just imagine what the team will think when they see other squads like the Titans—or better—all in one place, with music blasting and no sports teams to distract us from the spectacle. The Grizzlies are going to be psyched when they hear about this. It’ll probably help get the squad more pumped about all the tough stuff we’ve been practicing lately. And excuse me, but who doesn’t L-O-V-E a field trip?

  After I did the dishes, I went up to my room and signed on to video chat.

  Evan was online, and he started giving me a hard time as usual.

  “All’s well in cheer world, I hear?” he asked. “Word on the street is that the new uniforms were a big hit.”

  I think Evan likes to pretend he looks down on cheerleaders, but really he’s always up on the latest cheer news, sometimes even before I am. Scary. And every time a Titan cheerleader passes him in the hallway, he gets all tongue—tied and forgets which direction he was walking in. SUPERscary. And gross!

  “News travels fast,” I replied.

  “Hilary was telling everyone after practice that the skirts were the perfect length to show off her ‘supertoned quads,’” Evan said in his best ditzy cheerleader voice.

  “Sounds like a win-win,” I joked. “Anyway, how did you hear about this?”

  “I met up with a few kids after school to trade some SuperBoys for a vintage Plastic Man comic. And I listen and observe.” He winked at the screen.

  “How James Bond of you.”

  I could hear Evan’s dad call his name and announce that it was time for dinner. “Gotta check you later,” said Evan. “Time to grab some grub.”

  Just as I x—ed out of the chat screen, another chat window popped up.

  Bevan Ramsey. The boy I totally heart with all my . . . well, heart. But all I could think was “ugh.” Strange, I know. The thing is, a month ago my reaction to Bevan Ramsey texting or chatting me would have been to scream ecstatically, “You’re joking!! Bevan Ramsey? Does he even know my name?”