“You’re new at Belmont, aren’t you?” The girl to my left is clearly studying me as she adjusts her snug-fitting tank top around her midriff. She’s about my same height and has this amazing wavy red hair that appears to be her natural color. I vaguely remember this girl from tryouts, but I never caught her name.
“Yes,” I tell her cautiously. “I moved from Boston last summer.”
“Hey, I have an aunt who lives in Boston.” She pulls her red mane back into a bright blue bungee, creating a thick tail that goes partway down her back. “I got to visit her one summer when I was thirteen. I thought it was a pretty cool city.”
“Yeah, I kinda miss it.”
“It must be hard changing schools.”
I nod as I tug on my sport socks. “Pretty much.”
“But you made varsity,” she says with enthusiasm. Then she reaches up to give me a high five. “That’s pretty awesome.”
I return the high five. “So, you’re on varsity too?”
“Yeah. Sorry, I guess I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Jocelyn Matthews. This is my first year on varsity and I’m still pretty jazzed about it.”
“I’m Reagan Mercer,” I tell her. “I’m pretty jazzed too.” I glance around the noisy locker room, which has way more than eight cheerleaders getting dressed down at the moment. “I’m assuming this isn’t just varsity in here.”
“Freshman, sophomore, and JV all have cheerleading the same period. We’ll do some warm-ups and stuff together, then we break up into our own squads. I know ’cause I was on JV last year.”
“Oh.” I pull on my black Lycra shorts, smoothing out the waistband.
“I heard Kendra was pretty ticked about not making the squad.” Jocelyn gets a slightly mischievous grin. “I’m just glad she’s mad at you instead of me. Besides you, I’m the only one who wasn’t on varsity last year — plus I’m just a sophomore. So I just naturally figured I’d be the one to take the heat.” She laughs. “Then I heard that she’s blaming you.”
“Guess you got lucky.” But as I say this, I decide that I need to befriend Jocelyn — the sooner the better. It’s obvious that we’re both on the outside. Okay, maybe me more than her. “Hey, since we’re both newcomers,” I say in a light voice that I hope doesn’t sound too desperate, “maybe we should sort of stick together.”
“I’m cool with that. Like they say, there’s safety in numbers.”
We’re both dressed now. And, along with the others, we trickle out to the girls’ gym, where we perch on the bleachers, listening as Coach Anderson introduces herself and the other cheerleading coach. Then she does a little welcome speech, predicting great things for the year ahead. After that she gets a little stern as she goes over the rules and hands out contracts that we’re supposed to sign. It all seems pretty basic and about the same as my old school. She talks about the busy upcoming schedule and how the cheerleaders are somewhat self-governing. “I think it’s good for you girls to learn how to get along, to delegate, and to make good decisions. I like to play the role of consultant, and as long as you work hard and abide by the rules, I try to stay out of your hair.”
Finally she introduces the members of all the squads, including the varsity boys, Chad, Ben, and Jonathan. She also announces who the head cheerleaders will be this year. “As always, the head cheerleaders are selected according to the highest scores in tryouts combined with the most votes from the student body.”
It seems that most of the girls aren’t surprised by any of this, although I have no idea who the head cheerleader will be. As it turns out, Falon Atwood is the head of varsity. She’s the tallest girl on our squad, with nearly black hair that’s thick, long, and straight. And she has these really pretty dark eyes, sort of Latina looking, but not quite. I haven’t actually met her yet, but I’ve seen her in my Algebra 2 class and she seems pretty nice — probably a natural leader.
But here’s what has been catching my attention throughout all of this, so much so that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else that’s going on or being said: There is one person in the gym I didn’t expect to see in this class. A certain girl I assumed would be too embarrassed to show her face around here. But for some reason, Kendra Farnsworth is just sitting there with her friends like she thinks she made varsity. I have no idea what she’s doing, but I have to admit this girl has some nerve. Coach Anderson never called Kendra’s name when she introduced everyone and, in fact, seems to be ignoring her. So what’s up with this? Why is Kendra here?
Finally we break up into our respective squads. And Kendra walks over with her friends and stands with the varsity squad, acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be here. I’m trying not to stare.
“Uh, Kendra,” says Falon, “what are you doing here?”
Kendra smiles, then turns to her best friend. “Tell her, Sally.”
Sally grins. “Well, we were all talking and we agreed that we should have Kendra practice with us.”
“Why?” asks Falon with a slight frown.
“She’s first alternate,” says Sally, like that explains everything.
“Since when do alternates practice with the squad?” spouts Jocelyn. I glance at my new friend, concerned whether this girl is going to be an asset or a liability. I try to give her a look that says, “Shut up!”
Kendra glares at Jocelyn, narrowing her eyes in a way that suggests she could eat this girl for lunch. “Maybe they don’t do that on junior varsity, Jocelyn, but it’s been known to happen on varsity in past years.”
“Why?” asks Falon again.
“In case someone gets cut from the squad,” says Sally. “Then the alternate is all ready to step in.”
“Why would anyone get cut from the squad?” Falon’s tone is growing impatient now.
“You know why,” says another one of Kendra’s friends. For some reason it feels as if they’ve rehearsed this little scene. I imagine them at Kendra’s house, going over their lines, practicing until they have it down. “Things happen,” she continues. “For instance, someone breaks a leg or breaks the rules — ”
“Yeah, remember when Cassidy Johnson got pregnant a couple years back?” says Meredith. “It was right before state, and it really messed things up for the rest of the squad.”
“Yeah,” I say in a joking tone, “those pregnant cheerleaders just don’t have the best balance.”
“And it can get really messy when they’re the top of the pyramid,” adds Jocelyn, which actually makes Jonathan laugh.
“And you should try tossing a pregnant cheerleader in the air,” says Ben, the tallest of the bunch. He gets a few more laughs.
“How about catching them?” says Chad. “Splat!”
Falon rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. I suppose we can put this to the vote. Let’s get it over with. How many of you want our alternate to attend practices with us?”
Five female hands instantly shoot up — all of Kendra’s friends. Then they turn and glare at the guys, who slowly take the hint and follow suit. Finally, feeling stupid, I slip my hand up too, but Jocelyn just frowns, like she’s refusing to give in. Falon shakes her head and I can tell she thinks we’re all crazy. “Okay,” she says reluctantly, “looks like Kendra gets to practice with us.”
Then she moves on to uniforms. She’s got her laptop and immediately pulls up a website that has an outfit she’s recommending. Our colors are royal blue and white, and I think the outfit is okay. Nothing great, but not that bad. Then I notice Kendra nudging Sally, and then Sally speaks up again. “Actually, we found another site, Falon. It’s got some really cool stuff on it. You mind if we check it out too?”
Falon looks even more frustrated now and I can tell she just wants to move on with this. But she diplomatically puts it to a vote.
“Hey, wait a second.” Jocelyn points to Kendra. “Do alternates get to vote too?”
Falon seems to consider this. “No,” she says firmly. “They do not.”
“Sorry.” Kendra pu
ts her hand down and acts offended.
But, once again, it feels like all this has been scripted in advance. Kendra’s friends win the vote, although it does occur to me that if Jocelyn and I joined forces with Falon and got the boys to come along, we might actually have a chance against them. Not that I care so much when it comes to the uniforms. The website they’ve chosen is the same one we ordered uniforms from back in Boston, and I happen to think it’s pretty good.
“Their prices are way higher,” points out Jocelyn as we examine some of the outfits that Kendra’s friends seem to have preselected.
“Yeah, but their quality is way better,” says Sally in a snooty voice.
“You don’t want to look cheap out there, do you?” Kendra is using that superior tone again, aiming her comments at Jocelyn. “I mean, just because some of us don’t seem to care about fashion and appearance …” She gives Jocelyn a long, scrutinizing look, insinuating that the sophomore doesn’t measure up. After that, Jocelyn just seems to clam up, which I actually think is smart on her part. Although I partially admire her for standing up to these girls, I also think she’s asking for trouble, and I plan to give her a little warning speech later.
“Okay,” says Falon after we’ve made some decisions. She’s obviously irritated with how long this is taking, as well as with the bickering that’s going on over whether to go with the traditional pleated skirt or the flared one. “It’s time to do some actual practicing. I have a new routine that I put together last weekend, and I want to start teaching it to you today. You guys can figure out the uniform details later. Sally, you’re in charge of that, okay?”
“Fine,” says Sally, “but we have to get our order in by today if we want our new uniforms here for homecoming — and that’s only if we pay extra for shipping.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time varsity wore old uniforms to homecoming,” Falon points out as she claps her hands and gets us to our feet. “Come on, let’s line up.”
I’m relieved that we finally get to practice. My favorite part of cheering is actually doing it, but there are always those other girls who get into the politics of it. They seem to love the power struggles and fighting over every decision and making a big scene. The drama queens. And sometimes they just make me want to scream. To distract myself from all that nonsense, I give Falon my total attention. Imitating her as she goes through the moves, I quickly learn the routine and make a real effort to use my best form. No slacking from this girl. Then, just as we’ve finished up, Kendra comes over to speak to me.
“You’re sweating, Reagan.”
I sort of laugh, then shrug. “So?”
“So why are you trying so hard? You already made the squad. Do you think you have something to prove?”
“Just that she’s better than you,” says Jocelyn.
Kendra sticks out her chin, glaring at both of us now. Then she smiles, but it’s a chilly smile. “Time will tell,” she calls out nonchalantly as she rejoins her friends, saying something to them that I can’t hear. But they all laugh loudly. I’m sure at us.
“Great job at practice today, Reagan!” Falon slaps me on the back. “You’re going to be a fantastic addition to the squad.”
“Thanks,” I say as I wipe my damp brow on a sweat towel. I don’t know whether Falon is aware of Kendra’s attitude toward me or if she thinks that compliment is going to help. But I suspect it only makes Kendra more jealous.
As Jocelyn and I go into the locker room, I can feel Kendra’s eyes boring into both of us. I’m not sure which of us she hates more, but I suspect her original plan as first alternate was to replace me. I glance over at Jocelyn, wondering where she gets the nerve to taunt Kendra like she just did. I mean, she’s the youngest on the squad and obviously the least experienced. You’d think she’d know to keep her mouth shut. Still, she kept up really well at practice, and in some ways I suspect she’s a superior cheerleader to Kendra and her friends. I have no doubts that Kendra is choosing between the two of us. And something about the glint in her eye when I walk past makes me think she’s going after me.
Kendra sticks around as we’re going over the final details with our uniforms. I don’t see why an alternate should have a say in this, but I know it’s not worth mentioning. I am clearly outnumbered. In fact, as the other girls make choices about the uniforms, I decide not to speak out or voice an opinion. Why rock the boat? Jocelyn has shut down as well. I’m not sure if it’s a survival tactic or if she just doesn’t care. But as I write out my check for my uniform, I wonder if I’ll even get to wear it for long.
It’s like Kendra’s this vulture. And she’s just waiting for one of us to make a fatal error, then she’ll step in and devour us. One scathing glance from her and I feel like, Why bother? She desperately wants me to stumble. Or maybe she’ll just trip me herself. Whatever the case, I know I need to watch my backside around this girl.
By the time we’ve showered and are getting dressed, my stomach is feeling seriously knotted and I’m wondering if cheerleading will ever be fun again. Is it even worth it?
“Look at the new girls,” calls Kendra in this saccharine voice. She and her friends are dressing in the large open area of the locker room, in what I’m sure must be the prime real estate in here. “Isn’t it cute how Reagan and Jocelyn have paired off like that?”
The other girls laugh and make some cloaked but crude remarks, and I hurry to pull on my jeans. I just want out of here, the sooner the better. I glance over to where Falon is having what appears to be a serious conversation with Coach Anderson and I wonder if they might be discussing concerns over this alternate thing with Kendra. Maybe Falon is trying to get some support from the coach to put a stop to it. I can only hope. Then they both start laughing and my hopes evaporate.
“This is so unfair,” whispers Jocelyn as she zips her hoodie. She’s dressed now and putting the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
“Huh?” I pretend I’m not on the same track, although I know what she’s talking about.
“You know.” She glances over to where Kendra and the rest are still getting dressed.
I sort of nod as I slip on my flip-flops and grab my bag. “Wanna get out of here and talk about it somewhere else?”
Her eyes light up. “Sure.”
It turns out that Jocelyn doesn’t have a car. But then, of course, she’s only fifteen, so why would she? I offer her a ride in mine and as I drive the short distance toward her neighborhood, which is less than a mile from the school, we commiserate over Kendra and how she’s influencing the squad and making us miserable.
“Why doesn’t Falon do something?” I ask. “She’s head cheerleader.”
“I think she’s wishing she wasn’t. I mean, she did a pretty good job and everything today, but she seems sort of checked out.”
“I know. It’s like she’s not really friends with anyone.”
“That’s because she’s so into Caleb Winters.”
“Who’s that?”
“Her boyfriend. He graduated like two years ago and they’re still going out. I’ll bet they get married after she graduates. It’s like she thinks she’s all grown-up and better than everyone.”
“That’s so weird.”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, I don’t think we can count on much from Falon. Well, besides putting together good routines and bossing us around.”
“Meanwhile, Kendra, the alternate, lords it over the rest of us. It really isn’t fair,” I admit.
“And it’s taking all the fun out of everything,” she says as she points up the street. “It’s the yellow one, two houses up. And I was so happy about making varsity this year. Now I almost wish I could go back to JV.”
“That’s probably what Kendra’s wishing too.” I slow down my car.
“But it’s too late for that now.” Jocelyn reaches for her bag.
“Is that your house?” I ask, instantly feeling stupid, since this is obviously the only yellow house on the street. But it’s so frumpy
and rundown, not terribly unlike this subdivision. Suddenly I feel like I’ve made a mistake. Or maybe she’s pulling my leg. She does seem to have a sense of humor.
She turns and studies my expression. “It’s not much, is it?”
“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “I just wasn’t sure that — “
“It is not fine,” she says with irritation. “It’s a cheap little house in a crappy neighborhood. And you might as well know, I’m not rich like the rest of you and I can’t — ”
“Hey, I’m not rich,” I toss back. “I’m just — ”
“Compared to me you are rich. I mean, look. You have your own car. You wear these cool, expensive clothes — I know that’s a Burberry bag. And I know your flip-flops are Juicy Couture. I have the fakes, but yours cost about forty-five dollars. So it’s obvious your parents have money, Reagan. To me that’s rich.”
“Trust me, Jocelyn, we’re not rich.”
“Well, my mom is single, my dad doesn’t pay child support, and she struggles just to pay the rent. I have a part-time job at the mall or else I wouldn’t be able to afford cheerleading, and I have to study the fashion magazines so that I can shop the discount stores. I know the other girls make fun of me, and someone like Kendra would tear me apart if she found out how poor I really am. For some reason, I thought you might be different. I didn’t expect you to make fun of me.”
“I am not making fun of you,” I say defensively. “And if it makes you feel any better, my mom is single too. And I don’t have a dad to pay child support either.”
“Really?” Jocelyn looks slightly hopeful.
“Yes. And I think it’s cool that you work to pay for your own clothes and cheerleading stuff,” I add. “That shows that you’re probably more mature than the rest of us.”
She sort of laughs. “Yeah, right. I’m just more desperate.”
“I’m sure my mom would totally love it if I got a job and paid for some of my stuff.” Of course, this only reminds me of my promise to help with Nana, which is sort of like a job if you think about it. Already it’s nearly six o’clock, which means Nana has been by herself a lot longer than usual.
Harsh Pink with Bonus Content Page 3
