by Zoe Evans
Clementine decided to step in, since Hilary was “busy.”
“Yeah, we know about the article,” Clementine said with a wave of her hand. Like she was trying to show that anything I had to say was unimportant. “But she’s asking all kinds of shady questions about, like, funding and stuff. The team is worried she’s going to say bad things about us. It sounds to us like your friend might be trying to ruin our reputation.”
I guess I didn’t realize how bad Lanie’s questions would sound. But apparently they sound so bad that they’re spooking the entire Titan squad. And could that mean that maybe they have something to hide?!?
“Lanie?” I said with as much surprise in my voice as I could muster. “She so wouldn’t do that.” That is the truth. She wouldn’t make the Titans look bad ON PURPOSE. If she finds something that’s unfair about how they are getting money for all their trips and uniforms and things like that, well, that’s another story. “But you know,” I continued, “it’s her job to ask questions. She’s a journalist. But maybe just tell the girls on the team not to answer questions they don’t feel comfortable with.”
“Ha!” Clementine huffed. “As if it were that easy.” She tilted her head toward Hilary and gave her a look. “Because some girls on the team don’t know when to keep their mouths shut. Anyway, aren’t you and Lanie, like, twins separated at birth or something?” she said, rolling her eyes.
“She is my best friend, if that’s what you mean.”
Just then Clementine got all up in my face and was like, “Listen, the Titans do not need bad publicity before Regionals. And the team is stressing out big—time from all these questions. Rein her in, Madison. Katie and I are depending on you. Or else.”
At the mention of Katie’s name, I felt a little nauseous.
“Hey, what about me?” asked Hilary, suddenly interested in the convo.
“Just follow me,” said Clementine, shaking her head, apparently totally annoyed.
So, great. What to do now? Katie’s all peeved about Lanie’s article and probably something else, too, which I’m trying to figure out (Bevan? The uniforms? Something I can’t even guess at?). Now the Triumvirate wants me to talk to my BEST FRIEND and ask her to stop doing her JOB as a journalist? And if I don’t? What? The Titans will be mad at me? Why do I always feel like I’m one false move away from not realizing my dream? It’s like trying to do a pyramid with one person. SERIOUSLY?? The Spirit Rules has another rule: “It Takes a Team to Build a Pyramid.” Which I think also means that one person can’t take on the weight of everything. I feel like so much is just coming down on little ol’ me. And it’s kind of insane! THIS pyramid? Is about to topple.
I really need to talk to someone. Too bad I can’t ask Lanie for help with the Titans having a problem with her article since the problem is, well, Lanie.
AFTER PRACTICE, LOCKER ROOM
At practice we decided to take the team on a run. You can’t be a good cheerleader without endurance! And today was actually pretty warm for November in Washington, which meant that we were all sweating ten minutes into it. Jacqui and I kept the pace up for the rest of the team and made sure to run ahead of them to set a good example. I took that chance to be alone with her to ask for advice about the Lanie problem.
“You should talk to her,” Jacqui suggested, after I’d told her what happened earlier with Clementine and Hilary. “Believe me, I know what happens when you make those girls mad.”
“Ugh, but wouldn’t that mean giving in to their silliness?” I said, breathless from talking while running.
Jacqui shook her head. “No. It would mean making life easier on you.”
“Ok, Jacqui. But it’s not exactly easy to tell your best friend not to write what she needs to write.” I looked behind me to make sure the rest of the team wasn’t lagging behind.
“I think if you explain the situation the right way, she’ll understand that this article is putting you in a bad position. She’s your best friend-don’t you think she’ll understand?”
“I guess,” I said, but I wasn’t sure. Even though she’s my bestie, when it comes to her writing, she can be pretty serious about it.
We came to a steep hill and agreed on no more talking.
I just hope the talk I have with Lanie won’t be as tough as that run.
So, today is already turning out to be one of those days. I mean, some good stuff has happened-ok, so it’s mostly bad, but if I don’t write down the good stuff, I might go insane!!! This whole week has been just too much to handle. T.G. tomorrow is Thanksgiving—I totally need a break from all the D-R-A-M-A!
First the good: It’s my favorite lunch today—baked ziti. I got a huge serving from the lunch lady who likes me the best and settled in between Lanes and Evan. We sat at our table and caught up on each other’s lives. I’m soooo happy that I got to hang out with Lanie and Evan (even though Lanie’s article is still on my mind).
And I’ve been feeling like I haven’t spoken to Evan in years, so it was nice that we got to be just the three of us. Like old times .
Well, it WAS fun, until halfway through lunch. We were laughing and joking around, having a blast for a while, and then Lanie asked a simple question.
“So, Evan,” said Lanie, eating a tofu stir—fry she brought from home, “when’s the next SuperBoy coming out? Do you have plans for another soon?”
“Yeah, E, come on—the masses want more!” I pleaded jokingly.
And that’s where things went downhill.
The bad: Evan’s mood totally changed as soon as Lanie and I asked him about SuperBoy. He barely looked up from his Chicken McNuggets when she asked. (He actually smuggles his fave lunch into the caf every few weeks, after he meets up with the delivery guy from McDonald’s on the front steps. It’s a miracle he hasn’t gotten caught yet.)
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I’m working on it.”
“So?” I gave Lanie a what’s-with-him look. “Tell us what it’s about.”
“Top secret,” he said, mixing hot sauce with BBQ sauce. “You’ll see it when you see it.”
“All right-we’ll be holding our breath,” said Lanie, laughing.
Evan acting like that made my blood boil! All of a sudden he’s becoming Mr. Mysterious on us? This is Evan. The guy I’ve known since I was five. And now he wants to pretend like he has something up his sleeve? So annoying. Of course, I find him even more interesting when he backs away like this. Which is just sooo me.
Lanie changed the subject. “So, who watched last night’s episode of Top Chef?” she asked. The three of us L-O-V-E this show—which I always think is funny since Lanie is really anti-television. Except for the History Channel.
I was relieved that she didn’t bring up cheerleading, but the situation was whirling around in my head all through our lunch. I know I’ll have to bring up my convo with Clementine and Hilary sooner or later, before Lanie asks something that will make the Titans really mad at me. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that Lanie HAS been hanging around the Titans more and more this week, and showing up at their practices. How did I not notice that before Clem and Hilary talked to me about it? I decided that I would just tell Lanie about the Titans’ bugging out and see if that might get her to change her questions a bit. Maybe get her to be more on the DL. Ugh-I’m dreading this convo. Who am I to tell Lanie how to do her job? That’s like Lanie telling me how to do a layout.
“Madison?” asked Lanie. “Earth to Madison.”
Evan waved a handful of fries in front of me.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, my face red with embarrassment. Like I was worried she could read my thoughts. “Just daydreaming . . .”
“Ohhhkaaay,” said Lanie, looking at Evan and making the “crazy person” sign with her finger.
But I wimped out on saying anything to her just then. It wouldn’t have been a good idea to have our talk in front of moody Evan, anyway. And I just wanted to try to enjoy the three of us being together. Even though Evan’s ’tude
about his SuperBoy wasn’t exactly enjoyable. I’ll talk to her about it later. I promise.
AFTER PRACTICE, PARKING LOT
I waited until right before practice. I did a quick scan of the room before my eyes landed on her in the middle of a crowd of stretching Titans. She was easy to find. She was in fancy reporter mode with her clipboard, notepad, and tape recorder and was holding one of the younger cheerleaders hostage. The cheerleader was shaking her head—probably denying some pressing journalistic question. Then I saw Katie across the room. She had just spotted me, too, and she gave me a little nod as if to say, “You heard what Clem said. Go talk to her.”
I went up to Lanie as soon as her interviewee walked away. My heart was beating superfast. I was really torn. On the one hand, I didn’t want my best friend to think I doubted her, and on the other, I didn’t want to make Katie hate me any more than she already did and ruin my chances of ever becoming a Titan.
“So . . . I kind of have to talk to you about something.”
“What?” Lanie asked, but her attention was definitely focused on the Titans. The flyers were practicing their full—up cupies with their partners. Lanie wrote something down on her notepad.
“I don’t really know how to say this to you.” That seemed to get her attention for sure. She put her pen into her pocket. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “What? Do I have, like, toilet paper hanging out of my pants?” She laughed, turning to check her backside.
“No, no, you look fine. You look really cute, actually,” I said, pointing to her secretary—style shirt and high-waisted vintage skirt. “It’s about the article.” She could probably tell at this point, by looking at my face, that I wasn’t going to be saying anything helpful.
“Ok. Spit it.”
“The Titans are worried you’re going to say something bad about them, even though I know you won’t. You know—they can’t be getting bad press right now, with all these competitions coming up. And some of the girls are getting, like, psyched out by some of the interview questions,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“So you’re saying . . . ?”
“They asked me to talk to you about toning it down a bit. And also to make sure you don’t make them look bad in the article.” I could tell as I said it that it was already going somewhere very bad. And I had purposely decided not to tell her why I was saying anything at all in the first place—that Clem had suggested I should talk to Lanie “or else.” I didn’t want her to think that I was asking her to kill her dream so that in the future I could maybe have mine.
“Tone it down?” she huffed. “I can’t ‘tone down’ reporting. Besides, the Titans are supposed to be, like, the best team at Port Angeles. If they have nothing to hide, then why are they so worried?”
“I know!” I agreed. “They’re totally acting weird. But I promised Clementine and all them that I’d talk to you about it.”
“Oh,” she said coldly.
That was SO not how I’d planned this talk to go.
Then she turned around and took a few steps back. “You know, I thought you’d be hyped that I’m doing an article about cheerleading. This is what I get for trying to take more of an interest in my best friend’s sport, huh? But I see how it is-you’re choosing the Titans over your best friend. Nice, Mads.” Lanie rolled her eyes with disgust and started to walk away.
“No, Lanes, it’s not like that-”
“Well, it sounds like it is. It sounds like you don’t trust me, and you would rather protect them than me.”
I didn’t even know what to say. She was sort of right. In a way, I HAD chosen them over her. Some friend I am.
“You know what,” continued Lanie, “since I have nothing to hide or be secretive about, I’ll show you the article before it goes to print and you can see for yourself if it meets your so—called friends’ standards.” And then she walked away from me.
I stood there for a while, stunned by what had just happened. We’ve never had a fight like this before. Like, in the past, we may have disagreed about what movies to see or where to hang out on the weekend—stupid stuff. Our worst fight had been when we were ten and I was upset because she was hanging out with Evan more than me. But this was kinda serious. And I didn’t even really have time to digest it because I had to go start practice.
Today we had the squad do a ton of pikes and toe touches, concentrating on good form. But Jacqui and Mom were pretty much doing most of the work because my head was completely on another planet. I kept hearing Lanie’s words in my head all through practice and couldn’t concentrate. I was a total joke.
“Jared, we said point, not flex!” said Jacqui.
“Sorry! Sorry!” said Jared. He shook his head, obviously annoyed at himself. “It’s like, I say in my head to point, and then when I’m up in the air, I just forget to do it!”
Tabitha Sue nodded, agreeing. “I keep forgetting to keep my wrists straight.”
“All right,” said Mom. “Let’s divide and conquer. Half the team goes with Jacqui, the other half with Madison. I want you each to take turns working individually with your captain and have her watch you. No one is leaving without three perfect jumps in a row.”
The whole squad started practicing, but when Matt did his pike in front of me, I was so far off in la—la land, I didn’t see that his arms were totally wobbly instead of straight.
“Madison!” my mom yelled. “Did you not just see Matt’s wrists?”
Matt groaned.
“Oh, uh . . . yeah, sorry. I missed it.”
“Do it again, Matt,” Mom instructed.
It kind of went on like this for a while. I kept on missing things, and Mom finally came up to me.
“Honey, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to come back to the team. Whatever it is, you’ll have to deal with it after practice. And I’ll be happy to talk to you about it. Ok?”
She totally had a point. Spirit Rule #6: “The Team Always Comes First.” I had to put my head back in the game, as they say, and think about the Lanie thing not on practice time.
As soon as everyone left to go to the locker rooms, Clementine, Hilary, and Katie came up to me to ask what happened when I spoke to Lanie.
“She promised she’d show the article to me first to see if it’s ok,” I told them.
Clementine looked as happy as Clementine could look. “Good.” She smiled. “So that’s taken care of.” She looked at Katie, who was looking at me like I just ran over her dog. “Are we good, Katie?” she asked.
Hilary turned to Katie too as they waited for her next set of orders.
“Yeah, it’s cool. For now.”
Hilary looked at me and shrugged. It was like she was saying, “I have no idea what’s up her butt.” Which was actually pretty funny because I didn’t really know that Hilary had any thoughts of her own. And also, it was probably one of the only times Hilary and I would ever agree on something. But I wish I knew what was going on in Katie’s head.
Ok, another good thing happened today . I was walking toward the parking lot when I heard someone call my name.
“Madison!”
I turned around, knowing that the only face that adorable voice could belong to was his. Sigh. Happiness.
“Oh. Hi!” I didn’t mean to sound so excited. But it had been a while. (Ok, so it had been, like, a day.)
“I saw you and the Titans having a serious—looking talk when I passed by the gym. Everything ok?” he asked.
I could smell bubble gum on his lips, and he did this cute thing where he stopped his gum chewing and raised his eyebrows until I answered him. Like he was waiting for my next move or something.
“Oh, just some more cheer drama.” I rolled my eyes in the direction of the gym.
He smiled. “Those Titans giving you a hard time about us?”
I almost fainted when he said the word “us,” because I was not expecting that at all. I felt my face get all red. We are an “us”? Woohoo!!!
“Us?” I squeaked. “Like,
you and me?”
“I was joking,” he said quickly. “I just mean, are they upset because we hung out the other day?”
“Oh! Right!” I smacked myself on the forehead like a complete dork. But he did say “us.” I didn’t, like, imagine it. So . . . does that mean he thinks there is an “us” but is too embarrassed to admit he’s thinking that? Or did he really just mean “us,” like, in the one—day sense of the word, like “us, that day in the mall and only that day,” in which case I’m totally humiliated. Like, beyond.
“Yeah, I don’t know if they know about it,” I said quickly, hoping this awkwardness would disappear immediately. “I didn’t really tell anyone about us hanging out except for, like, Lanie. Um, did you?” Yikes. That was a lie. I told Jacqui, too. But it’s not like she’s gonna run and tell anyone.
“No.” He shook his head. “I just figured-cheerleaders, drama. What you told me the other day about Katie making me ‘off-limits.’” He laughed.
“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s actually something else entirely. Some article Lanie’s writing for the Daily.” I was glad that I didn’t have to make this up. I’m the worst liar EVER!
I was also glad we had moved our chat away from the “us” portion of the convo. He must think I’m one of those girls who always wants a boyfriend. Great. We talked a little more, but when we said good—bye he was just like, “’K, talk to you later, Maddy.” And it’s cute that he calls me “Maddy” instead of “Madison,” but still, WHEN will he talk to me later, exactly? What does that mean? Will he call me? Text me? Are we gonna hang out again?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH BOYS????!!!!
EVENING, MY CRIB
Back home when we sat down to dinner, Mom wanted to know why I was in such a weird mood earlier at practice. And, like, totally out of the blue, she asked, “Hey, I noticed Lanie’s been hanging a lot around the Titans. What’s going on with that?” So I decided to tell her everything. It felt good to chat with Mom about friend stuff, like we used to. It’s been a while.
