by Zoe Evans
“So, what’s been going on?” he asked, putting his sketchbook away.
I thought of telling him about tryouts for the Titans, but then that would lead to me telling him about Katie training me, and I just really don’t like talking about Katie with Evan. Then I started wondering if he and Katie still hang out. Not, like, in a “dating” sort of way. They’re definitely only on “friend” terms. Still, the idea that he might be chilling with her gives me an icky feeling in my stomach. But I didn’t want to ask because then it would seem like I’m jealous of their friendship in some way. Which I’m not. Obvs. Okay, fine, maybe a little. In that moment I almost decided to ask him anyway, but then my brain spun into, like, a total whirlwind—as soon as I began to speak, I realized that my asking him about Katie could lead to him to asking me about Bevan. WHICH TOTALLY CANNOT HAPPEN. The truth is, I have no idea what’s going on, but what I do know? There’s NO WAY I’m going to have that talk with Evan, of all people.
“Earth to Madison,” Evan said in a singsong voice.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Zoned out for a bit.”
“Not even remotely surprising. So, you were about to tell me what you’ve been up to lately?” Evan asked.
“Oh, lots of cheer stuff. Want to hear a secret?” I asked him.
Evan gave me a little mischievous smile that made my heart flutter in my chest. “You know how much I love gossip,” he said sarcastically.
I told him about how the Grizzlies are planning on doing a surprise dance routine at the Sunshine Dance.
“You’re joking,” said Evan.
I shook my head.
“Well, that’s as good a reason as any for me to go, I guess. I need to see this for myself! Ian and Matt—they’re doing it too?”
“Well, they’re preparing for it. But they haven’t agreed to do it at the actual dance. Not yet, anyway.”
“That sounds more like it.”
“I have a feeling they’ll change their minds when the time comes. Those guys are a bunch of show-offs. And honestly, Matt’s been pretty cooperative lately. Not sure what’s gotten into him, but I’m liking it.”
Evan considered this. “Hmm, shall we bet on it?”
“You’re on. Stakes?”
“I’ll let you know later. I’m gonna think about it,” he said with a smile.
On the lunch line, Clementine and Hilary were standing in front of me, which is kind of a miracle because they almost never order from the cafeteria. They usually go to the special canteen that you have to pay extra for and get salads that they eat without dressing. Yuck. It’s especially out of character because today’s Hamburger Day (a GOOD day in the cafeteria, if you ask me). I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation, because they were practically shouting. And of course they were talking about the Sunshine Dance and how hot they were going to look.
“I saw my dress on Mila Kunis in US Weekly,” bragged Clementine. “Isn’t that awesome?”
“You’re gonna make Mila Kunis look like she was wearing a garbage bag.”
Clementine batted her eyelashes playfully. “You’re too kind.” She paused before adding, “Just kidding. You’re totally right. I’m gonna rock that frock.”
“Wasn’t it the most expensive dress in the store?”
“Duh, of course!” said Clementine, with a hint of disgust. “What about you? Did you decide what you’re wearing yet?”
“My mom and I are gonna take a quick trip to L.A. this weekend to find something cute. Nothing I’ve found so far does anything for my petite frame.” Hilary ran her hands along her teeny waist to illustrate her point. Barf.
“Don’t you just looooove L.A.?” said Clementine excitedly. “I bought so much stuff there last year when I went with my aunt.”
“I know. It’s all très chic.”
As I listened to the two of them compliment each other (and tried not to barf), my heart started beating nervously. And these horrible, scary thoughts started crowding my mind: What if my dress S-T-I-N-K-S? What if it turns out so bad, an Abby Lincoln kitten sweatshirt looks better than my dress?
My brain went into a total downward spiral. Maybe I’ve taken on too many things at one time. I haven’t even gone fabric shopping yet! What if I end up slaving away every night until the dance, and then have zero energy for tryouts? Do I need a backup plan in case my dress turns into a MESS? Ahhhhhhh! I can’t NOT go to the dance now that Bevan finally asked me. But if this dress ends up being a disaster, I’m going to end up going in jeans!!
Finally I snapped out of it and I told myself: Be calm. Breathe deeply. Ommmmmm. (I learned this stuff from one of Mom’s yoga DVDs.)
And then I felt a tiny bit better.
Luckily, I knew practice with Katie would take my mind off of dresses from L.A. and US Weekly. There’s not much time or energy left to think of anything else when you’re pushing your body to its limit. I met her in our usual place.
Katie took a seat on the floor, crossing her legs into a pretzel with both knees flat on the floor, as if it took no effort at all.
Uh-oh, I wondered, did I do something wrong?
“Seriously, how do you do that? I have to, like, force my knees down to get them to do that.”
I took a seat next to her, trying to copy her pretzel. But it was a major F-A-I-L.
She shrugged like it was nothing.
“What’s up?” I asked her.
“Well . . . I know you still haven’t made a final decision about whether you’re trying out for the Titans, but the truth is, tryouts are just over a week away. It’s kind of do-or-die at this point.”
“But isn’t sign-up not until next week?”
Katie nodded. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. I feel like you’re holding back a little in our practice sessions, and I think it’s because you haven’t fully committed to trying out.”
I hadn’t really noticed that at all. In fact, I thought I’d been giving everything I have to give. But that’s exactly why Katie is coaching me. Because no matter how good you are at something, you can’t coach yourself. And it’s precisely for reasons like this. There are just always things about yourself that you can’t see. And me holding back is apparently one of them.
“I’m sorry, Katie. I guess tryouts seemed so far off, I keep thinking I have time to decide. But you’re right, they’re almost here. It’s time.”
“So are you in?”
“Yes.”
Katie must have seen the terrified look on my face, because she reached out and patted my knee. “You’re gonna do great. I’m right behind you in this.”
I nodded.
“Hey, remember how you psyched me up for my tryouts for dance school when we were in New York? I’m going to do the same for you. I know you’re going to make it.”
Again, she was right. When Katie was worried about her tryouts, I did everything I could to psych her into walking into auditions with all the confidence in the world. If I’m so good at doing that for other people, why am I so lousy at doing it for myself?
“Thanks, Katie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well,” Katie began, “you’d probably have a lot less aches and pains, for one thing.”
“True.” I laughed.
Katie did her best to simulate the tryouts from last season—we did the same dance routine, cheers, and tumbling sequences. “I studied my notes last night about last year’s tryouts!” She winked.
In the middle of one of the cheers, I completely blanked on what came next.
I was like:
WE ARE THE BEST
WE CAN’T BE BEAT
SO CLAP THOSE HANDS
AND STAMP THOSE FEET
THE TITANS ARE HERE
TO BRING THE CHEER
UHH . . . BLAH BLAH BLAH???
And then I just stood there with my arms in a V, not sure what came next. Which is so ridiculous, because I’ve said this cheer so many times I can sing it in my sleep. It’s not complicated at all—but my memor
ies of how badly I messed up at the last tryouts got the better of my nerves.
“C’mon,” said Katie. “Dig deep. You know it.”
I shook my head like a deer in headlights.
“Madison, don’t do this. I know you have it in you.”
I took another one of those yoga breaths and concentrated. I knew this. I KNEW THIS!
And moments (which felt like eons) later, it came to me:
IF YOU’RE NOT A TITAN
GET OUT OF HERE!
And on the “out” we would pretend to shove a cheer partner in the shoulder. The partners would pretend to stumble backward, but instead do backflips and transition into the bases of a pyramid.
(I think this cheer is supercute to the nth degree. Those Titans know what they’re doing.)
When I was done, I felt like such a failure. With a capital F. If I can’t remember a single stupid cheer, how the heck am I going to ace tryouts?
Katie gave me a pat on the back. “Chill. You’re just nervous, that’s all. You made a big decision today.”
“Yeah, well, nerves are what got me the last time.”
Katie looked me dead in the eye. “Yeah, but you’re much stronger this time around. And you’re a better cheerleader. You have way less to be nervous about. It won’t happen this time.”
I’m sending a little prayer to the cheer gods that Katie is right.
Off to practice!
POST PRACTICE, THE NOT-SO-COMFY LOCKER ROOM BENCHES
Everything was going smoothly until Ian let out a loud fart when the choreography called for the guys to catch the girls mid-fall and pull them through their legs. Katarina was Ian’s partner, and just as he pulled her through, he totally let one rip. Katarina stumbled and fell flat on her butt.
“Vat is dees smell?” she exclaimed, half gagging.
At that point, the smell hit the rest of the team, and we must have looked hilarious to anyone watching, because all of a sudden we were running left and right, waving our hands in front of our faces to get rid of the smell.
Ian just stood there, hand on his hips, with a triumphant grin on his face. “Ahhh,” he said, smiling. “Hamburger with onions for lunch! Hey, can we add this to the routine?”
“Seriously, dude, you need to take something for that,” said Matt.
Mom walked over to where Jacqui and I were standing. “I think that boy needs a good talking-to,” she said.
“More like a smackdown,” said Jacqui. “Ian!” she barked. “Get your smelly butt over here. Now.”
“Hey, Cap’n, you sure you want to do that?” He continued to wave behind his butt like the smell was still coming out and he wanted to better share it with the rest of the room.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
For a second Ian’s cat-that-ate-the-canary grin faded, but when he looked at Matt, he made sure to plaster it on again.
“What seems to be the problem, ladies?” said Ian.
Before Jacqui could say anything, Mom stepped in. Which probably was better, because Ian knows not to push it too far when it comes to adult authority.
“Your behavior is completely unacceptable,” said Mom, stone-faced.
Jacqui and I nodded emphatically.
“Just in case you weren’t aware,” Mom continued, “I have the power to decide whether you ever return to the football team or not.”
Ian looked stunned. “You could do that?”
“Of course,” said Mom with just a hint of smugness. She must have been seriously bugged about Ian’s lack of dedication to threaten that. Sometimes she forgets that part of being a cheerleader is having fun, too. But I wasn’t going to defend Ian. No way.
“If you don’t show yourself as a committed, serious team member, then how do you expect your coach to want you back on his football team?”
Ian let this sink in a little. “I’m sorry, Coach,” he said. “I guess I got a little carried away.” Whether he actually meant that or he just knew what lines to say, I’m not quite sure.
“Apologize to your captains as well,” she said, nodding toward Jacqui and me.
Ian let his head hang. “I’m sorry, Jacqui. I’m sorry, Maddy.”
“Are you ready to do this again, minus your stink?” said Jacqui.
“Ready, I promise,” he swore.
Everyone assembled back into formation. “You guys ready for more choreography?” I asked.
“Listen,” said Ian. “I swear I’ll stop goofing around, but just so you know, I am not doing any girly dancing moves. It’s not in my contract.”
“You guys are just insecure in your masculinity,” said Jared.
He was obviously bummed that the shimmy-to-the-floor bit he’d come up with had been rejected unanimously.
“I have to agree with Ian,” said Matt, ignoring Jared’s comment. “We’ve gotta draw the line somewhere. I am not doing any hip shaking.”
“Your hips don’t lie,” joked Ian.
“Okay, we promise not to make anyone feel like they look stupid or do anything that makes them uncomfortable at the dance,” said Jacqui.
“Ahem,” said Jared. “I think ‘stupid’ and ‘uncomfortable’ are subjective terms here. No one seems to appreciate any of my stellar additions to the choreography. Doesn’t anyone here have taste?”
Tabitha Sue giggled. “Yeah, but I think as a group we tend to prefer Step Up to Flashdance.”
“It’s Footloose,” said Jared, rolling his eyes.
“At least we’re doing a dance, right?” said Tabitha Sue, seeing that Jared was a little upset. She’s always such a good peacemaker.
“I guess . . .”
We added a few more steps of choreography, then Jacqui and I stood back to watch them run it through.
“Do you really think we’ll do this at the dance?” asked Jacqui, out the side of her mouth.
“Who knows,” I said. “I’m kind of hoping we don’t. Not because it’s not going to be an awesome routine—I just am not into spontaneous dancing. But I can’t even think about how sad that would make Jared.”
“Oh, totally,” said Jacqui.
But by the end of practice, the routine was coming along so well, a big part of me started hoping we do end up showing it off at the dance. Either way, the Grizzlies now have some extra moves under their belt to show off at the Get Up and Cheer! competition that’s coming up.
As we did our cooldown, I noticed Diane’s friend had taken a seat on the bleachers. And he was STARING at Tabitha Sue—there was no denying it.
I locked eyes with Tabitha Sue and tried to tell her without saying anything that “he” was there. At first she looked at me like I was crazy or something. Which I don’t really blame her for—it sort of looked like I was challenging her to a blinking contest. But finally I was like, “Ahem” and did this throat-clearing thing, and nodded my head ever so slightly toward the bleachers. She didn’t even pause before whipping her head around to see what I’d been trying to get her to look at. When she turned back toward me, her cheeks were as red as a Red Delicious apple. I stole a quick glance at the guy to see his reaction, and he was blushing while pretending to check his cell phone.
“OMG!” she mouthed to me. I smiled back at her. Awwwww!
NIGHTTIME, BEDFORDSHIRE
After I finished changing in the locker room, I found Evan waiting in the hall. I couldn’t help but jump a little bit. For one, I’m used to seeing Bevan waiting for me—though of course that hasn’t happened in, like, eons. And second, seeing Evan these days seems to have that effect on me. So crazy!
“Oh, hey, E,” I said, suddenly aware that my hair probably looked like a bunch of little birds had been nesting in it for the winter and just flew away.
“Um, yeah,” said Evan, running a hand through his own floppy mess of hair. “I was just . . . uh, here late because I was working in the library for a couple of hours on an extra-credit project, and I was passing the gym so I thought I’d stop by and see if you’d left yet.”
Uh-hu
h. Nice try. Because if there’s one thing I know about telling a white lie (okay, I’ll admit it—I’m kind of an expert), it’s that the more detailed it is, the more likely it is that the person you’re lying to will be able to tell you’re trying to pull the wool over their eyes. I didn’t really care, though. I was glad he’d stopped by.
“Nope, I’m here,” I said. I didn’t want him to know I was onto him.
“Cool.”
“So, um, do you have plans for Saturday night?”
“Just a date with my sewing machine,” I answered honestly. “Slaving away on my dress for the Sunshine Dance.”
The second the words came out I wanted to grab them and stuff them back.
For a second, I caught him blushing, like the word “dance” triggered something in his brain. And then I was like, “Ohmigod, is he going to ask me about Bevan?” That would ruin our whole, like, groove. Not that I’m purposely keeping the fact that I’m going to the dance with Bevan a secret. I just know that Evan gets all weird about Bevan. I just don’t want to upset him, is all. That’s nice, right?
LUCKILY he didn’t bring up the dance. Instead he randomly started telling me about this place that just opened up in the next town over called Just Desserts and that he was dying to try it.
“They only serve desserts,” he explained. “It’s like a three-course tasting menu of different dessert-y things.”
“Ah, clever title,” I said.
“So do you want to go check it out with me? Saturday night?” he asked. His voice squeaked on the word “night.”
“Yeah, def!” I said. I LURVE dessert. This totally sounds like my kind of place.
Relief washed over Evan’s face. “Cool!” he said, getting all fidgety.
Just then I heard Mom’s voice drifting down the hall. Then I heard a man’s voice. Ugh. Mr. Datner. Not exactly saved by the bell, considering it was Mr. Datner doing the saving.
When the two of them entered the hallway, Evan gave me a look like, “What’s going on with those two?” and I just shook my head in a “tell ya later” kind of way.
“Hey,” said Evan, nodding hello to Mom and Mr. D.
