by R. L. Stine
Walker nodded. “I think the school was trying to save money while no one was here. I don’t think they ran the furnace at all.” She stopped and studied Gretchen. “How are you doing? I mean, seriously.”
“Seriously, not so great,” Gretchen said. “It’s kind of weird being back in this building.”
“Did you see one of the counselors the school made available?” the coach asked.
Gretchen stared at her. What could a counselor tell me? Not to be upset even though a good friend was murdered in front of my eyes?
“No,” Gretchen answered simply.
She glanced to the far wall and saw that Devra had turned away from Ana. Devra was watching Gretchen now. Staring hard. Her face a blank.
Why is she looking at me?
“I think getting back to a normal schedule is the best thing we can do,” Walker said. She rearranged the baseball cap on her head. “I mean, no way we can forget what happened. But we have to get past it.”
She didn’t wait for Gretchen to reply. She motioned with both hands for the other cheerleaders to gather around.
“We’re not going to practice today,” the coach announced. “I think we’re prepared for the game against the Bisons tomorrow night. I know nothing feels normal, and we all have a million questions, and we’re all troubled and tense because of the horrible thing that happened in our school. But I think we have an important job to do, all of us. And I asked Courtney to say a few words.”
Courtney swept a hand back over her short hair. She stepped into the center of the circle of girls, adjusting the sleeves of her Shadyside High jersey.
“I agree with Coach Walker,” she started. “We cheerleaders have an important job to do. We can help get our school back on track. I mean, this week has been the pits, and I think everyone in school feels terrible. There’ve been a lot of tears and a lot of nightmares and a lot of sadness.”
Her voice cracked. She took a breath. “First Stacy has a horrible accident. Then Madison is murdered onstage. How can we ever recover from that? How can our school return to just a little bit of normal?”
Her eyes swept the circle of girls. “I think that’s where we come in. I mean, we’re cheerleaders. That means we’re the spirit leaders of the school. I thought about this a lot when Coach Walker asked me to speak. Everyone talks about school spirit. But what is it really?
“It isn’t just a slogan. It means the feeling of the school. How the students here feel about themselves and about our high school. And I think if we do a good job at the game Friday night … if we get everyone really yelling and screaming and cheering … we will do our part in lifting everyone’s spirits.”
Courtney glanced around the circle again, as if checking if everyone was with her. “That’s what cheerleaders can do,” she continued. “A lot of people think cheerleading is old-fashioned or sexist or dumb. But I think we can show that they are wrong. We have a real purpose. Maybe we can call it a goal. And that’s to get everyone here out of the dumps and get them cheering again.”
Courtney let out a relieved sigh. She stepped back. She had an uncertain expression on her face. Maybe she was expecting us all to burst into applause, Gretchen thought.
The girls remained silent. Finally, Ana spoke up. “I agree with Courtney. Good job, Courtney. You made me feel better already.” The others murmured agreement. A smile slowly spread over Courtney’s face.
“Yes, good job, Courtney,” Coach Walker chimed in. “I think you described our mission perfectly. I’d say you were even eloquent.”
Courtney’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you. I gave it a lot of thought.”
“And you had another thought,” Walker said. “About Gretchen.”
Gretchen stiffened at the sound of her name. Why was Courtney thinking about Gretchen? She knew Courtney wasn’t her friend. Courtney was Devra’s friend. She and Gretchen had never said a kind word to one another.
Courtney cleared her throat, her eyes on Gretchen. “Well, I just thought we should do something different for the crowd Friday night, something special. I mean, if we do something totally awesome, we can really get them shouting.”
“Tell them your idea,” Coach Walker said.
“Coach Walker and I were watching your highlight video,” Courtney said, turning to Gretchen. “From your old school. And we both totally couldn’t believe your Double Flying Somersault. Has anyone else here seen it?”
To Gretchen’s surprise, Devra raised her hand.
Why was Devra watching my highlight reel?
“Well…” Courtney continued, “You flew up so high, it was totally amazing, Gretchen.”
“You have to jump pretty high to do a double,” Gretchen said.
“Well, Coach and I thought you could do it Friday at the game and … just blow everyone away. I mean, it could be so awesome.”
Gretchen glimpsed a look of disgust on Devra’s face.
“What do you think?” Coach Walker asked Gretchen.
Gretchen felt her face turning red. She hated the fact that she blushed so easily. But having all eyes suddenly on her got her heart pumping. “I have a better idea,” she said. “Why don’t I teach it to someone else, and we can both do it Friday night? That would be even more spectacular, right?”
Walker shook her head. “Nice thought, but I don’t think we have time. The only time we have to practice it is after eighth period tomorrow.”
Gretchen hesitated. “Well…”
“You’ll have time to teach it to the others before the state tournament,” Walker suggested. “We could really wow the judges.”
“I guess I can do it Friday night,” Gretchen said, still thinking hard about it. “But I need a really strong catcher. I come down really fast, and the timing has to be perfect.”
Courtney shook her head. “Too bad. That’s a problem. Stacy was our best catcher.”
Silence.
Then: “Devra, do you think you could catch Gretchen?” Coach Walker asked.
Gretchen gasped. Coach Walker—what are you trying to do? KILL me?
30.
“Where are we going?” Gretchen fiddled with the cigarette lighter on the dashboard. Sid’s Pontiac was so old, it had a cigarette lighter. And a cassette player.
“Just driving around,” Sid answered, slowing for a stop sign. He had one hand on the wheel, one hand on her thigh.
“Let go of me,” Gretchen said, gently removing his hand. “Watch where you’re going.”
Sid turned onto Park Drive. He had waited for her after the cheerleader meeting and suggested they take a drive.
The late afternoon sun was slipping behind the trees, sending rays of shimmering red through the nearly bare branches. “Finish your story,” he demanded. “Walker asked Devra to catch you. And what did Devra say?”
Gretchen snickered. “She said no. You could have knocked me over. She had this perfect opportunity to drop me on my head, and she turned it down.”
“Weird,” Sid murmured.
“She said she hurt her shoulder at her tennis lesson, and she didn’t think she could do it,” Gretchen told him. She slumped in the seat, the scratchy seat cover rubbing her back, and lifted her knees to the dashboard.
“Weird,” Sid repeated. He made a whistling sound through his lips. “Maybe she has something worse planned for you.”
“Worse than dropping me on my head?”
“Maybe she’s waiting for the cheerleader retreat.”
“Maybe,” Gretchen said in a whisper.
He followed the sloping curve of the road, picking up speed, passing a slow-moving SUV filled with little kids.
“So you’re not going to do your famous Double Somersault?”
“No, I’m doing it. Shannon said she’d catch me. She’s been working out, working on her upper body strength for gymnastics.”
“Shannon is awesome,” Sid murmured, eyes crinkling as a smile crossed his face.
“Shut up,” Gretchen said, giving him a slap on the ar
m. “She seems nice. I don’t really know her. She and Becka sort of hang by themselves.”
Gretchen gasped as Sid swerved hard. She saw the dog running in the road, a large German shepherd. Sid had swerved to miss it.
“That dog is lost,” she said. “Look. It doesn’t have a collar.”
“Almost hit it,” Sid said. “It’s as big as a deer.”
“Where are we going?” Gretchen asked, still breathless.
“I thought we’d park up at River Ridge.” He grinned at her, moving his eyebrows up and down.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Mom is expecting me for dinner. And I have homework since school is starting up again. Did you forget homework?”
“What’s for dinner?” Sid asked. “Maybe I’ll join you.”
“You’re not invited.” She hit him again. “Hey, how come we never go to your house?”
His grin faded instantly. “We can’t,” he said softly, eyes narrowing on the curving road ahead of them. “My dad is always there, and he’s a beast most of the time.”
Gretchen laughed. “He’s a beast?”
“Not funny.” Sid’s hard expression didn’t change. “Ever since he lost his job, he takes it out on me and Mom.”
“When did he lose his job?” Gretchen asked. “What does he do?”
“Don’t go there,” Sid said, his jaw tight. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No. Really.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He slammed his shoe on the gas pedal, and the old Pontiac roared and lurched, and then shot forward, up the River Road.
Confused, Gretchen turned away from him. She gazed out the window, at the darkening waters of the Conononka River below as the sun disappeared behind the tall pine trees.
Okay. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Fine.
But he doesn’t have to bite my head off.
Their first angry words. And she had no idea why he was angry.
“My mom is kind of a beast, too,” she said, still turned to the window. “I mean, I’d invite you to dinner, but you wouldn’t like her at all.”
Sid didn’t reply.
“She’s totally negative.” Gretchen continued anyway. “A total downer. All the time. She never says anything cheerful or encouraging. Always just puts me down and tries to make me feel small.”
“Bad news,” Sid murmured.
“I really have to get home,” Gretchen said, turning back to him. “I’m sorry if I said something to get you angry, but—”
“No worries,” he said. He forced a smile. “It’s just my dad is kind of a bad subject right now. I’m … uh … well, I’m trying to work things out, you know?”
“Okay.”
The River Road widened to two lanes. Sid waited for a truck to rumble past. Then he made a wide U-turn and started back the way they had come.
Gretchen squeezed his hand, eager to pull him out of his sudden black mood. “One good thing about the halftime show,” she said. “No fire batons. You won’t have to worry about a kerosene bucket and all that.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Guess my job is easier now.” He turned his eyes to her. “That reminds me. I was at the hospital. Some good news. Stacy has the use of her right hand back.”
Gretchen swallowed. “You mean—”
“They thought maybe she’d never be able to use it,” Sid said, turning back to the winding road in front of them. “But she can move her fingers now. It should be okay.”
“I didn’t know—”
“You should go visit her,” Sid said. “You’re the only girl on the squad who hasn’t been to the hospital.”
“I’m the only girl who set her on fire,” Gretchen said, her stomach suddenly heavy with dread. “No way she wants to see me. I’m sure she blames me. I couldn’t go there, Sid. I couldn’t—”
“She knows it was an accident,” he said.
Gretchen shook her head. “No. I can’t do it. I can’t visit her. First I set her on fire. Then I stole her boyfriend.” She leaned forward in the seat. “Have you told Stacy about us?”
“Not yet,” Sid answered quickly. “It isn’t the right time. She’s concentrating so hard on getting better. I don’t want to do anything to spoil it.”
I’ll bet Courtney told her, Gretchen thought.
Sid turned the car onto Fear Street. The old trees arching over the road made it suddenly seem dark as night. High on their wide lawns, the big houses rolled past. The shrill screech of a cat somewhere nearby sounded over the rumble of the car engine.
Sid pulled to the curb in front of Gretchen’s house. He turned in his seat and squeezed her hand. “I was serious about Devra planning something for you at the cheerleader retreat,” he said, dark eyes exploring her face. “Maybe you shouldn’t go to the retreat.”
Gretchen shook her head. “I have to go,” she said. “I really don’t have a choice.”
“But if she’s killed once…” Sid started.
Gretchen raised a hand to silence him. “First I have to survive my Double Somersault,” she said.
31.
Gretchen tugged down the sleeves of her maroon-and-white uniform sweater as she trotted after the other girls into the stadium. The lights cut through the thin layer of fog that had washed in earlier that evening. The stadium appears as bright as a dream, she thought.
The two teams were warming up at opposite ends of the field. A Tigers player let a long pass sail over his head, and the ball bounced in front of Gretchen. Without breaking stride, she kicked it back onto the field.
That brought her a few cheers from the stands. She turned and saw that the home seats were only about two-thirds filled, a smaller crowd than usual.
“Some of the parents were protesting,” a voice said in her ear. Gretchen turned to see Coach Walker trotting beside her. Their shoes crunched on the gravel of the running track that circled the field. “A few parents believed it was too soon after Madison’s death. They wanted us to cancel the game.”
Gretchen’s eyes swept the empty seats. “I guess some people stayed away.”
“Maybe the weather kept them away,” Walker said. “This fog. And it’s cold for October.”
The cheerleaders formed a line in front of the stands and began to perform a warm-up cheer.
“Give me a T
Give me an I
Give m a G
Give me an E
Give me an R!
What does that spell?
What does that spell?
It spells ROOOOOAAAAAAR!
Go, Tigers!”
Mild applause. A few shouts. People were still arriving. In the bleachers to the right, the Shadyside High band started to play a march that Gretchen didn’t recognize. The sound was muffled by the fog. The stadium lights appeared to flicker, but Gretchen saw that was caused by shadows from the fog.
Everything seems unreal tonight. Everything is just a little bit weird.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. Coach Walker pulled her aside. “Tell me about your practice this afternoon.” She shouted over the tinny blare of the band. “Do you think you’re ready to do the Double Somersault?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Gretchen joked.
“Seriously,” Walker said. “Do you think Becka and Shannon can handle it? Be honest, Gretchen. Are you confident? If you’re not up to it, we can postpone it. Do it later in the year.”
Gretchen nodded. “We practiced for an hour. They’re both pretty strong. They give me a good hard boost to send me up, and Shannon didn’t have any trouble catching me as I landed.”
The band ended the march and began a brassy version of “Beat It,” the Michael Jackson song. Gretchen watched Sid handing out maroon-and-white pom-poms to the other girls.
“You landed on your feet every time?” Coach Walker demanded.
Gretchen nodded again. “Shannon had to straighten me out a few times. She was very good.”
“Okay.” Walker patted Gretchen’s shoulder. “Do it. It will b
e a big boost for everyone, I think. But, listen…” She brought her face close to Gretchen’s. “If you feel anything is wrong at all, don’t try for the double. Just do a single. That will be spectacular enough. Okay?”
“Okay,” Gretchen agreed. She could see the concern on Walker’s face. Two tragedies in the school this fall were more than enough. The coach obviously didn’t want Gretchen to become another.
The cheerleaders were doing another welcome cheer. Gretchen ran to Sid to get her pom-poms. He flashed her a thumbs-up. “Everything good?”
“So far,” she said. “Practice was good. I feel good.”
He looked around. “Do you believe this fog? Where did it come from?”
Gretchen turned and saw Devra watching her, pom-poms pressed to her waist, eyes narrowed, her expression hard. Devra’s red hair had come loose and was blowing wildly around her head. She pushed it down and, with a final glance at Gretchen, turned back to the stands.
Gretchen hurried to join the line of cheerleaders. The game was about to begin, but the stands were still about a third empty. The lights overhead suddenly appeared brighter. Everything snapped into focus. She realized the fog had lifted.
Right in time for the game.
Whistles blew. The two teams broke their huddles on the field and began to line up.
“We’re the Tigers and we like to roar!
We’re the Tigers and we like to score!
What do we want? More!
What do we do? SCORE!
Go, Tigers!”
The first half flew by. Gretchen concentrated on the cheers and sideline routines. She concentrated on being a teammate. She forced thoughts of her Double Somersault from her mind.
Leaping high with the other girls, shouting, urging the crowd to cheer—it gave her a strong feeling of confidence she didn’t normally feel. That was one reason she loved cheerleading. She became someone else. Her doubts and negative feelings and worries disappeared.
She was an athlete. A performer. A member of a team.
Her good feeling lasted until halftime.
32.
A light drizzle had started to fall. Ponchos and rain gear appeared in the stands. A few people headed for the parking lot, but the score was tied 14–14, so most people stayed.
