by Zoe Evans
“So, um, what happened with you and Bevan?”
I was so NOT in the mood at that moment to tell him what happened. I shrugged, trying not to look as horrible as I felt. “It just . . . didn’t feel right.”
“Look,” said Evan, biting his lower lip, “I’m sorry, but I gotta go.”
“Later.”
I couldn’t believe Evan and Katie were going together. When I’d told Katie that tons of guys must have been building up the courage to ask her to the dance, I never thought that Evan, MY Evan, was one of them. I know that Evan and Katie are just friends, but I can’t help but be jealous. What if Katie shows up at the dance looking more amazing than ever, and the two of them have the BEST time, and next thing I know, they’re a couple? That would be totally Twilight Zone-y. The two of them together doesn’t make sense to me. Last night, I could so picture Evan with ME at the dance. So how can he be going with someone else?
And now, this means I’ll DEFINITELY have a seat reserved for me at the dance next to Abby Lincoln.
I texted Lanes before class started. “The Lounge. Emergenceee. After class.”
“On it,” she wrote back immediately.
In class Mr. Cooper was talking about the great tragic loves in literature and asking us to name a few. I couldn’t stop thinking of Evan and me. I could see what the cover of our story would look like.
Luckily, he didn’t call on me all through class, or I probably would have blurted out, “She can’t go with him! Neveerrrrrr!”
I felt guilty, though. I didn’t want Katie to go to the dance alone, either. But I know if Evan hadn’t asked her, someone else would have.
I couldn’t WAIT for class to be over. I was dying to talk to Lanes. I practically sprinted to the Lounge, nearly running over a very small girl who was two classes below me. “Oops! Sorry! In a rush!” I shouted behind me.
Lanie was already waiting for me, sipping chocolate milk. “What’s the emergency?”
I told her almost all in one breath that Mom was going to the dance with Mr. Datner, that I wasn’t going to the dance with Bevan anymore, and that I’d tried to ask Evan to the dance but he was already going with Katie.
Lanie laughed so hard she almost squirted chocolate out of her nose.
“What are you, like, five?” I asked her.
“Sorry, sorry,” said Lanie, wiping her face. “I just think it’s kind of hilarious. Your mom has a date to the dance and you don’t!”
“Wow. Thanks, Lanes. Good thing I went to you to feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, stifling one last laugh. “It really sucks. You’re still gonna go to the dance, right?”
I nodded. “I sort of refuse to not show my masterpiece to the world,” I said, thinking about my dress. “So yeah, I’m going.”
“You’re gonna look so fab, Bevan and Evan are both going to wish they were there with you,” said Lanie.
“Thanks. Promise you’ll include me on the dance floor so I don’t look like a complete loser?”
“Cross my heart!” “While we’re on the subject,” I said, “we need to discuss what you’re wearing. Are you still going with the pantsuit? And if not, please say it’s not those black jeans with the safety pins in them.”
“Well, I was planning on wearing my Save Metal T-shirt over a tank dress. . . .”
“Oh please no,” I pleaded.
“Just kidding!”
I dramatically let out a breath of relief.
“Gee. Ye of little faith. I’m wearing a cute dress I ordered from the Delia’s catalog. You’ll approve, I promise.”
I raised my eyebrow at her skeptically. “A dress? You must really like this guy.”
After my convo with Lanes, I made a resolution: I’m not going to think about Evan or the dance, or Katie (except when it came to cheer stuff) for the rest of the day. My brain needs a rest from that kind of drama. I decided to only focus on training for tryouts, and leave this mess behind. I told Lanes that I was gonna grab lunch to go so I don’t have to sit with Evan at lunch and feel even worse. She tried to convince me to come to the caf, and said she would just talk about herself all through lunch so neither of us would feel awkward. But I said no thanks. UNFORCH, eating lunch on the steps at school alone is not the sweetest of experiences. I don’t mind being alone in general, but when the reason is because I’m avoiding someone, it doesn’t feel so great. Now that I think about it, I’m kind of avoiding two people. It wouldn’t be fun to run into Bevan, either. Then again, what are the chances? I never see him these days, and based on past experience, even if I did, he probably wouldn’t notice me. Luckily, it’s an unusually warm day for March. Otherwise I’d be turning into an icicle right about now.
At least being alone means I have time to write.
THAT NIGHT, LIVE FROM MY LIVING ROOM!
Practice tonight lifted my saggy spirits. We rehearsed and rehearsed our routine, and by the end of practice we were REALLY good! Even Ian and Matt were getting into it, correcting each other when they each messed up.
“Check it. Your arm goes this way, not that way,” Ian instructed Matt.
Matt put his hands on his hips, furrowing his brow in concentration. “Wait, show me again?”
“Why don’t you two go to the mats over there and practice that part?” suggested Jacqui.
“You wanna join?” Matt asked Jacqui with a wink.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know,” I whispered to Jacqui. “I think you two would make a pretty cute couple.”
“Ha, okay, Mrs. Soccer Star.”
“Make that ex-Mrs. Soccer Star.”
Jacqui’s eyes almost popped out of her head in shock. “What do you mean? What happened?” she asked, all concerned.
“It’s okay. We’re just not right for each other. He’s been way too busy with soccer, and it just didn’t seem right to go to the dance together, so I told him we shouldn’t.”
“Oh, Maddy, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, and put her arm around me in a half hug. “That really stinks.”
“Yeah, kinda. But it’s okay. Hey, now we don’t have to go to the dance alone—we can go together.”
“Still kinda lame, but I’ll take it,” she joked.
When we stopped chatting, we looked over at Matt and Ian, who were really killing the dance routine. “They’re doing a pretty good job, huh?” I said to her.
“Yeah, they’re actually not such bad dancers,” Jacqui replied, seeming suddenly deep in thought. “Maybe they’re finally going to be of some use to us.”
Tabitha Sue asked if we could review the part where she and Katarina would do left-handed cartwheels into round-offs.
“Nice!” I shouted, as Tabitha Sue nailed it. Katarina had a little too much momentum and wobbled at the end.
“Zis ees rediculousness. I am queen of round-off!” said Katarina, stomping back to position.
“Want some help?” offered Diane.
Katarina shook her head. “I must do zis all alone.” She went for it again, and landed gracefully.
After a few more rounds of rehearsing everyone’s weak spots, we got together for the last run-through of the day.
“You guys were awesome!” I told everyone, when we were finished. We high-fived all around.
“The last part is so cool,” said Jacqui. “Go Grizzlies!”
Everyone left practice in good spirits.
“You wanna work on some of our own stuff?” asked Jacqui. We hadn’t done that in a while—since I’d usually have spent all my energy practicing earlier in the day with Katie. Which of course, Jacqui didn’t know about. I couldn’t say no, though, or it would seem weird. Also, I’ve missed all our post-practice workouts lately.
“Yeah,” I said cheerfully. I was still a little rough around the edges with my back handspring, so I suggested we practice that for a while.
Jacqui’s, of course, were flawless. She’s so good at tumbling. Jacqui gave me some pointers on my back handspring, and I practiced until
I got dizzy. Funny, I kind of have two Titans training me for tryouts.
When we got home, Mom wanted to show me the different dresses she was thinking of wearing to the dance. “You’re the fashionable one, Maddy. I need your advice.”
We went up to her room, and she hummed while she went into her closet to get the dresses. I noticed that there was an unframed photo of Mom and Mr. Datner on top of her dresser and decided not to comment on it.
“So,” said Mom, “which one do you like better?”
She pointed to an emerald-green strapless that went to the knee and would definitely bring out her eyes. But it was a little too much, in my opinion, for the school dance. I shook my head.
“Okay, what about this?” She held up a navy tank dress that had kind of an Audrey Hepburn feel to it.
“Ooh, that one! And you should do a chignon.”
Mom clapped. “Oh, good! I was hoping you’d say this one.”
“You could even do, like, red lipstick.”
Mom smiled. “Great idea. Just to make sure—you’re not into this one, right?” She picked up Dress Numero Tres, which was a one-shouldered long dress. It was pretty, but again, didn’t feel school-dance-chaperone-ish.
“I still like what’s behind door number two better.”
Mom sat on the bed and put each one back on the hanger.
“When can you show me your final dress?” she said, smoothing out the crinkles in the chosen one.
“The night of. It’s a surprise.”
“So exciting!”
I showed Mom some of the cheers I’ve been practicing for tryouts. (This Saturday!! Eeek!) I’m glad I finally told Mom that I’m planning on trying out, because (a) I can practice at home without worrying about her asking why, and (b) she can help me with anything I’m not getting. Mom said the only thing I need to work on is my “cheer face.”
“Always smile, always look the judges in the eye, and look psyched to be there.”
“That’s exactly what Katie told me,” I said. “What, are you and Katie, like, sharing brain waves or something?”
Mom shrugged. “Well, we’re both Titans. I remember that was one of the major things we looked for in new members. The Titans are known for looking like they’re having a better time than anyone else. But it takes effort.”
I can’t believe tryouts are just a few days away. Katie and I are going to concentrate solely on my weak spots from here on out. Tonight I’m going to review all the top Titan videos and make sure there isn’t anything I’ve missed. Judges, watch out. Madison Hays is coming to a mat near you!
J-J-J-Jitters!
Saturday, March 5
Late afternoon, on my front steps
Song Level:
Let’s Bring It On
Woke up this morning with a serious case of déjà vu. Mom tickled me under my nose with my ratty old pom-pom to wake me up, just like she did at last tryouts (or any big day of mine, for that matter).
“Sleepy Maddy, wakey-wakey!” she sing-songed.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes. “Ughhhh. Too bright!” Mom had opened all the shades, and the sun was blasting down on me.
“Oh, no. You’ve got your big day today. Drink in the sunshine! Up and at ’em!”
Mom lifted both arms to the sky as if lifting the sun itself. Of course she was up and dressed hours ago. Her gardenia perfume left little trails behind her as she moved about my room.
I sat up in bed and stretched my neck, which was killer sore from my late night workout. I almost couldn’t stop myself from trying to cheer along with every Titan video I watched, but when the clock hit eleven, I knew it was time to get my snooze on.
Mom bounced out the door, reminding me to make time for breakfast. “Yeah, yeah,” I said wearily.
I found a neatly folded pile of cheer tryout clothes waiting for me on top of my dresser. Mom had thought of everything, as usual: sweatpants, cheer shorts, two T-shirts, two sports bras, and a hoodie.
Getting dressed is a cinch when someone else does all the work! I quickly brushed my hair, put on some light makeup, kissed my pom-pom for good luck, and went downstairs.
“Mmmm. Hard-boiled egg and bland oatmeal. Delish,” I said as I surveyed this morning’s lame-o menu.
“You don’t want to eat a bunch of sugar before tryouts,” said Mom. “You’ll crash.”
I know she’s absolutely right, but I like giving her a hard time sometimes. Especially when she’s in “Cheer Mom” mode. And this morning it was in full overdrive.
“Mom, don’t you know Pop-Tarts are the breakfast of champions?”
Mom rolled her eyes at me. “Maybe video game champions.”
“Ha.”
The truth was, I could barely breathe from all my nerves, let alone swallow lumpy oatmeal. I began to wonder who else would show up today. Would I be competing against random hidden talents? Or would there be more Jared and Tabitha Sue types (the pre-Grizzly versions of them)? Would someone who I’d never thought had a cheer background just pop up out of nowhere and wow the judges? And of course, my WORST fear: that someone from the Grizzlies would show up. It was a Saturday, after all, but you never know. What if Matt or Ian left a towel or jock strap (or whatever it is those guys wear)? OR what if someone from the Grizzlies ACTUALLY tried out??
With each bite, I reviewed another move that Katie and I had practiced together. Chew, toe touch. Chew, pike jump. Chew, herkie.
“I hope I can keep this down. I’m even more nervous than last time,” I told Mom.
Mom came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Nerves mean that you’re about to do something great,” she said, whispering into my ear.
She always says that.
I grabbed a PowerBar to toss into my bag for later, but soon realized that Mom had already put one in there. I threw it in there anyway. You can never have too many snacks.
When we were in the car, I asked her the question I’d been avoiding. “Mom, you’re really okay with this? You’re being so cool about me trying out for the other squad.”
Mom gazed out the window wistfully. “For me, it’s bittersweet. You know I always want the best for you. And the Titans really are of a different caliber. So of course I want you to go for it. But at the same time, I’ll miss getting to coach you every day, and I’ll miss watching you grow into an amazing captain.”
I was glad Mom was being honest.
“I’ll miss having you as my coach too. But I’ll still need your help on, well, anything involving cheer.”
Mom gave me a wink. “I hope so.”
The first person I saw when I walked into the gym was Katie. She ran up to me and gave me a hug, without saying anything. I felt something scratchy in my neck. It was a note (Katie’s fave form of communication). It was folded into a tiny square, with a smiley face sticker holding it closed.
I unwrapped the note. “Remember, be confident. You’ve so got this. Rock it out today!”
I looked back at her to smile, but she was looking down at some papers. Probably the list of kids trying out. Clementine was staring right at me, with a puzzled look. Then I think I detected (gasp!) the slightest smile. Could it be that Katie was right? Does Clementine Prescott have a . . . heart?
As I walked farther into the gym, I recognized some of the people who had tried out last year and didn’t make it, but decided NOT to join the Grizzlies. Rebecca Simmons had been pretty good, but she froze when it was her turn to show the judges her cheers. She’d been so upset about not making it that she didn’t show up to school for almost a week. Her mom had called in saying it was “exhaustion,” but we all knew the truth. Today she looked ready to out-cheer Coach Whipley.
Almost.
Coach Whipley was frantically barking orders at everyone. It is always like this at tryouts. People are so buzzed and excited they can hardly stand still, and everyone wants to get one last move in before tryouts begin. “Everyone, on the mat!” she shouted. “No more gossiping! No more tumbling! If you’re no
t sitting still on the mat in thirty seconds, you’ll be leaving this gym!”
That got everyone in order. Any stragglers quickly left their little cliques, wished each other luck, and took a seat. I like the middle of the mat because it gives me the best view of the Titans up front who are leading us through the routine. I started stretching my arms out, when I noticed a familiar profile in front of me: DIANE!!!
What was SHE doing there? All that time and energy voting her onto the Grizzlies and getting her up to speed on our routines, and she secretly was training to be a Titan? I was so angry I could have screamed. But then I remembered I was guilty of the same thing, in a way. The real reason I was angry? Diane is GOOD. And the fewer good people trying out, the better for me. Boo.
“Hey, Diane,” I said from behind.
Diane literally jumped, then she turned around. “Oh, wow. Maddy, I didn’t expect you to be here.”
“You either.” I guess we were both caught red-handed. Or pom-pom-handed. “Diane, I thought you hated those girls.” I motioned toward Clementine and Hilary, who were reviewing the routine among themselves.
“Well, I’m not, like, their biggest fan,” she whispered. “But being a Grizzly helped me realize I’m pretty good at cheer. I want to challenge myself, you know? And I figure I can swallow my pride if it means cheering with a team like the Titans.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I hear you. I guess I’m just surprised to see you.”
“Likewise,” she said with the slightest smirk. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to challenge myself too,” I said with a smile. But underneath I was thinking, “This girl better not take my slot!”
The Titans lined up at the front of the mat to show us the drill. First, they played the music so we’d get a sense of the rhythm. It was a high-speed version of Katy Perry’s “Firework.” The routine wasn’t too hard. It seemed like they were looking to see how quickly we could learn something new, and how tight we could get a routine in a short period of time.
“Straight arms, quick, sharp motions,” I repeated to myself. It was hard to forget the last tryouts—when I was totally tripped up by Jared because of his flailing jazz hands. (T.G. we’ve gotten those under control!) But this time, it wasn’t Jared I had to worry about. It was Diane. And the fact that I was standing right behind her made this feel like a too-easy game of Simon Says. Everything she did, I did. We looked like twins!
