by Zoe Evans
“We’ll take a pass, thanks,” I said. “Guys, seriously. Her favorite bands are Toad the Wet Sprocket and Spin Doctors.”
I heard a whole lot of crickets. Everyone looked at me with blank expressions of “Wha?”
“Exactly. Coach Carolyn isn’t up-to-date on the music scene,” I joked.
“Hey, hey,” said Mom, walking over. “I was cool in my day. But I get the hint. Keep me out of it.”
We went around a second time, but this time no one could vote for their own choice. This way we could see which songs were really in the running. It came down to “Teenage Dream” and “Born This Way.” Surprisingly, Matt and Ian were much less reluctant to change their votes than expected. After a short whisper session that no one was privy to, both of their hands shot up when “Born This Way” was on the table. Weird. But “Born This Way” won.
“Well, guys, thanks for picking my song,” said Jacqui. “I think this will be a fun, upbeat number to create a routine for.”
Most of the team hooted excitedly. Except Ian, who grumbled under his breath.
For the rest of practice, Jacqui and I choreographed the first few moments of the routine on the fly.
“Tomorrow I’ll bring music so we can put it together with the real beat,” said Jacqui, as everyone left for the day.
Mom had to take off a little early, claiming that she had “plans,” whatever that means.
“Have fun tonight, sweetheart!” she said to me before she left.
I didn’t have the chance to tell her that the Bevan date was off, and I certainly wasn’t about to bring it up in the middle of practice. She’ll find out eventually, but I didn’t have the energy to deal with that sad, sorry look I knew she’d be sporting once she found out that Bevan had canceled on me.
“You want to keep working on it?” I asked Jacqui. Not like I had any plans.
Anymore.
“Sure!” she said.
“Cool. Hey, do you think your mom could give me a ride home after?”
“Of course, no prob.”
Jacqui and I put together something simple enough for the whole team but with bits and pieces that looked impressively difficult. It was coming along really well by the time Jacqui looked at the clock and realized her mom would be picking us up any minute.
“You sure you don’t mind giving me a ride?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” said Jacqui. “Your house is on the way. Hey, I thought you had, um, plans tonight?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Yeah, well . . .” I forgot I’d told Jacqui why I wouldn’t be able to stay late. Ugh. Not that I care if she knows, but I knew that talking about it would just annoy me all over again. I just wanted to get home and not think about the rejection of today. “Bevan had some soccer stuff.”
Jacqui bit her lip. “Oh. Yeah, of course. Those guys are, like, living, eating, and breathing soccer these days.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Are you upset?”
“Yeah, a little. But mainly because we haven’t hung out in forever, you know?”
Jacqui waved at her mom in the parking lot. “I wouldn’t take it personally, Mads. You know how some people get about sports stuff.” She winked and nudged my arm with her elbow.
I do, obviously. I’m one of them. But I can’t really help taking it personally.
“Yeah, I guess.”
We threw our backpacks in the trunk of her mom’s SUV. I was about to open my door, when Jacqui quickly whispered in my ear, “Oh, do me a favor? No guy talk in the car. My mom is super strict about that stuff. She doesn’t even like to be reminded that we go to school with boys.”
“You got it,” I said. And that was totally fine with me. I was done talking about Bevan for the night.
When I got home, I opened the door to the smell of chicken roasting. Mmmmm. I knew Mom had plans tonight, but I didn’t think they’d be happening at home. And something told me her “plans” weren’t cooking a delicious meal for yours truly, since that’s pretty much a regular night for her.
When I closed the door behind me, I heard the distinct sound of a man’s voice, followed by Mom’s laughter.
Unless she was being entertained by some burglar who also happened to be a stand-up comedian on the side, Mom was totally on a date and I was about to witness it!! OMG.
“Mom?” I asked, projecting my voice as much as possible. Maybe the guy would be scared at the possibility of having another witness and would get the heck out of my house.
“In here, honey!”
Since she didn’t sound like she was in much danger, I exhaled in relief.
That is, until I saw who was keeping Mom company. “Mr. Datner?” I said. I couldn’t help the disgust that was seeping out of my voice. Like, ew with barf on top! I knew that my gym teacher and Mom had some kind of thing going, but the least she could have done was spare me witnessing it. Hello? Nice to tell your daughter that she should expect to see her gym teacher when she gets home.
Mom was smiling ear to ear and holding a glass of wine. She could definitely tell I was not happy.
“Madington, I didn’t realized you’d be home so early. You know, um, Ed.”
Ha! His first name is Ed. As in phys ED. It doesn’t get any better than that.
“Hello, Miss Hays,” said Mr. Datner. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “How was, um, practice?”
I could tell he was as comfortable as I was with our little dinner party.
“It was good,” I said, trying to ignore the dorky color-block polo shirt he was wearing. It’s not that Mr. Datner is grotesquely ugly or anything (to be honest, I really don’t like thinking about his looks at all). He’s about Mom’s age, and is still steering clear of toupee territory, but the way he dresses makes him look like an old man on a golf course.
“Would you like to join us?” asked Mom.
I noticed Mom had also made sweet potato pie and creamed spinach. She must have really been trying hard to impress Mr. Datner, and I didn’t want to ruin things. At least one of us could follow through with her plan tonight! Besides, I’d had a long enough day and really didn’t want to stick around for Mr. Datner to order me to do a hundred push-ups.
“Um, I think I’m going to just eat in my room. I’ve got tons of homework to do.”
Tiny lie, but definitely necessary.
Mom actually looked a little bit relieved. Guess she wanted some alone time with everyone’s favorite gym teacher (shudder). I REALLY hope this doesn’t get around school. How embarrassing! I could just see everyone passing stupid notes about this to me in class.
Before I had a mini vomit session, I started to work on my outfit for the Sunshine Dance. I’ve already decided on a sketch I like, so now it’s time to create a pattern to work from. Luckily, I have a pattern I bought a while ago at Sew What (fave store) to base this one on. I’ll have to do a little shoppin’ over the weekend for fabric. Not that I need an excuse to go to Sew What.
When it was almost time for bed, I hopped on chat to see who was on. I saw Bevan’s away message, which of course just reminded me of how he’d canceled on me earlier today. But before I had a chance to get bummed all over again, I got a message from E.
Evan: “Heyyyy! Go on v-chat!”
I went on v-chat, and Evan’s face appeared on the monitor. His hair looked like he’d taken a nap on it, even though I’m pretty sure he hadn’t. Messy is his hair’s natural default. I actually think it suits him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I saw my own face on the monitor and realized my long day of workouts had taken a toll on MY hair as well. But since when do I care what Evan thinks of my hair? Apparently since now . . .
“What are you doin’?” asked Evan.
Pause: I didn’t want to talk about how I was making a dress for the dance, because that might lead to talking about Bevan, which might lead to what I was SUPPOSED to have done that night. I absolutely did NOT need Evan to know that I’d been rejected like the world’s biggest dork. I decided t
o keep my answer on the vague side.
I held up a piece of the pattern I was working on. “Just a new outfit design. You?”
He held up a notebook with some equations on it. “SuperBoy.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. You, um, want to do work together?”
I felt a blush working its way down my cheeks. Why am I being so weird?? Since when do fashion and comics make me blush?! “Sure,” I said.
We eventually got into our own grooves, and just kept each other company for hours while we worked. It was really nice. Maybe even better than bowling.
Tuesday, February 22
Afternoon, in the school hallway
Song Level:
Bowlin’ in the Wind
Day numero dos of training with the Katie Monster. Man, that girl is hard-core to the bone. She makes those trainers on I Used to Be Fat look like sweet grandmas. Between my late nights, Grizzly practice, general stress over the dance, and these training sessions, I might just be a walking zombie.
We met in our secret room, which luckily no one else in school touches, so we found the furniture still pressed against the walls where we’d left it. Hopefully it will stay there, so we don’t have to worry about heavy lifting every single time we meet.
“All right,” said Katie. “Ready for more?”
I took a deep breath. “Whatever it takes.”
“Let’s start with making the cleanest, most beautiful round-offs and back handsprings you can muster. We’re going to warm up with some bridges.”
We practiced bridges and round-offs until my arms felt like they’d fall off. Too bad we couldn’t drag a mat or two into the classroom.
A part of me wonders if Katie enjoys torturing cheerleaders the way an evil villain enjoys watching people suffer.
“You know, Maddy,” said Katie, “I’m really psyched about our training together.”
“You are?” I asked as I stretched out my back.
“Yeah. You have a lot of potential.”
It was really nice to hear her say that. Being around Katie sometimes makes me feel a little insecure about my own cheer skills.
“Thanks, Katie. I really appreciate all your help and everything.”
“Well, I’m excited to help you be the best cheerleader you can be. Especially since the Titans will need someone really good if, you know, I leave for dance school.”
“You really don’t think Clem or Hilary has what it takes?”
Katie sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. They’re killer cheerleaders. But there’s just something missing. An ultimate cheerleader has that special something—maybe it’s a personality thing. I just don’t think they have it. But you do, Maddy.”
My heart was bursting with happy. Getting such nice compliments from someone like Katie is a huge deal. HUGE!
So of course after our little session, I ran into Bevan AGAIN in the hall. Or rather, he ran into me (literally). I wasn’t so excited to see him since his switcheroo of plans yesterday (obvs), but then again, I’m not feeling that bad about yesterday anymore. Maybe it was how cute Evan was last night just wanting to hang out and do work together, or maybe it was what Katie just said to me. Either way, I’m having a much better week so far.
“Oh good,” said Bevan, nearly out of breath. “I was hoping I’d find you. I knew you had a free period, and I’ve been looking all over.”
I tried not to get excited over the idea that he’d spent the past hour searching for me. I could just see him looking in the cafeteria, the Lounge, the library, and getting frustrated that he couldn’t find me. A tiny part of me was a little happy he had to go through some frustration too.
“What’s up?” I asked, willing my face to not look at all happy to see him.
Bevan looked at me with huge, puppy-dog eyes. “Maddy, I was thinking about yesterday, and I realize it was a real loser move to cancel so last minute.”
I was liking this version of Bevan. You know, the really sorry version (even though the sorry version should have come WAY earlier than Tuesday). I stared at him, not saying anything, with my arms across my chest. I figured he could keep talking—especially if I wasn’t.
“I want to make it up to you—canceling on you and everything. I made sure I don’t have any soccer stuff late tonight. Can you go bowling tonight instead?”
I thought about the many, many exciting activities that I had planned on doing tonight:
1. Dinner with Mom (and who knows? Maybe a surprise guest!)
2. Working on my dress
3. Watching cheer videos
Clearly, it’s a no-brainer. It seems bowling won’t be the worst way to spend my Tuesday night.
“All right,” I said, still keeping my cool. “I’ll see if my mom will drive me to the alley after I finish some homework.”
Bevan looked relieved.
“Awesome!” he said, flashing his usual faint-inducing smile.
We were so wrapped up in our conversation, we didn’t notice all the people whizzing past us on their way to class.
“Oops, I gotta go. We’re gonna be late,” I said.
“Yeah, okay. Well, later then, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
I turned around before he could see me smile. I gotta keep him on his toes.
After English class, Lanie and I met in the Lounge. She looks extra adorbs today, wearing a superlong cardigan over shiny stretch pants and knee-high combat boots.
“You like?” she asked, pouting her lips like they do in fashion mags. Unforch, on her the pout just made her look like a fish struggling for water.
“Yeah, I like it a lot. But eighty-six the fish face.”
“Ha-ha. So, better start to the week?” asked Lanie. She obviously knew all about Bevan canceling on our bowling date on Friday, and she agreed that it was really rude of him.
“Actually, yes,” I said.
“Good. Not to bring you down again, but Bevan’s been super lame lately. I’m surprised, though, you know?” she said. “He started out really nice.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s not that he’s not nice. It’s more like he just lets other things be more important than me.”
Lanie raised an eyebrow. “Sounds not nice to me.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess. But the good news is he did ask me to go tonight instead. It just, you know, took him a while to do the right thing.”
“So are you going?”
“Yeah, why not, right?”
Lanie smiled. “Sure. But more important, did he ask you to the Sunshine Dance yet?”
I sighed, and shook my head. “But you know, it’s cool.” I playfully put my arm around Lanie. “You and I can just go together, right?” I knew it would still technically be like going “without a date,” but if we owned it, and told everyone we didn’t WANT dates anyway, it would look much better.
Lanie shook her head. “Sorry, sister. I have the distinct feeling that Marc is going to ask me.”
I don’t know why that thought hadn’t occurred to me, based on what Lanie said the other day about Marc acting all flirty with her. But as soon as she said it, my heart dropped. If Bevan was going to ask me, he would have already. I don’t think he’s planning on going with someone else—because that isn’t his style. But I think he just has too much else on his mind to stop and think about the dance. I wonder what’s taking up all that space in his brain. . . . There sure isn’t room for me or the dance, it seems.
I really might be forced to go to this dance alone! I’ll be branded a Super Geek for the rest of the year. Or worse: forever!
Things kind of continued to go downhill after that realization. (What else is new?) I was at my locker, getting books for my next class, when I couldn’t help but overhear a bunch of girls practically hyperventilating over the shopping spree they plan on taking this weekend. I looked over to see who it was, and was not surprised. Lisa Frankel, Melanie Talbot, and Yvonne Brooks all wear the same clothes, do their hair practically the same, and talk
the same.
“Fer real,” said Lisa, with a toss of her wavy blond hair. “We’re so totally gonna scope out Cecily’s Attic first. It’s gonna be so ridic!” Her eyes were so wide that it looked like they might pop out of their sockets.
I’ve actually never been inside Cecily’s Attic. It’s one of the most expensive stores in Port Angeles. People mainly go there to buy dresses for bat mitzvahs or Sweet Sixteens, but not just for ordinary school dances. Unless, of course, you’re oozing money like these girls are.
“I dunno, guys,” said Melanie, who was flipping through a Vogue magazine. “I think we should hightail it to the mall. There’s way more variet-ay.”
(PS—One of their favorite things to do is to add an “ay” to as many words as possible.)
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Ew, the mall? Gross.”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead with a mall dress,” Yvonne huffed. “Mel, did you take too much cold medicine or something?”
“Guys, relax,” said Melanie, obviously flustered. “I was totally just joking. Wow.” She slammed her locker shut for emphasis, I think.
As the trio walked away, I could still hear them talking about the “ridic” dresses they were going to buy in this totally casual way, like the way that Lanie and I might talk about buying a new lip gloss. And even though I know that acting the way those girls do and taking what they have for granted is absolutely disgusting, a part of me is definitely a wee bit jealous because (a) if they are shopping for dresses, then it is VERY likely that they have dates (grrrr!), and (b) they probably have enough money to buy five dresses each (I know, I shouldn’t care about that stuff, but still . . .).
As I walked to class, I reminded myself that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE making my own outfits. I don’t need my (totally fictional) rich parents to give me thousands of dollars for shopping sprees. BUT if I want this dress to actually happen, I have to get cracking. I mean, I know there’s a possibility that I won’t go to this dance at all, but just in case, I need to be prepared. And I know that whatever I make will be completely original. In fact, it will be so original it will be RIDIC! (Ha-ha.)
