“Sounds good. When do you want to go?”
“Thursday, if you can. Normally, they close at six. But they stay open until eight on Thursdays. That’ll give us enough time to finish practice and head over before it closes.”
“Okay.” Nick hesitated. “I forgot to ask if there’s an athletic fee for cheer? Because I already paid one for football, and I don’t know if it’ll transfer to a new team.”
“Nope. No fees for us. And we always do a carwash, which should cover the price of warm-ups. The owner of the shop said she’d print a bill to send back with me. I guess she works with other schools and has a system all set up. Ms. Lancaster will pay for the uniform out of the cheer budget. Unless…you want to keep it as a souvenir,” I teased.
“My uniform?”
“Yeah.”
“What on earth would I do with a cheer uniform?”
“I don’t know. Wear it to prom?”
Nick howled. I didn’t think it was that funny, but he laughed so long I was beginning to wonder if I’d broken him. “Sorry,” he said through panting breaths. “Fell on the floor and couldn’t get back up. You should seriously consider a career in comedy.”
My stomach fluttered. Even though he was being sarcastic, I found myself wanting to make him laugh again. “I’m serious. Add a matching boutonniere, and you’ll really be making a statement.” This set him off again, and I was flooded with satisfaction.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “I’ll wear my uniform to prom next spring, if you come with me in yours.”
Woosh! All the air left my lungs. I knew it was a joke since prom was nine months away, but it still felt like an invite. How was I supposed to react? My lips did that tingly thing while I thought of a clever response. It took way too long. “That’d be boring. People are used to seeing me in my uniform. What if we switch? You wear mine, and I’ll wear yours.”
“That’s even better. Principal Klein would die. Okay, it’s a date.”
Red alert! I was about to hyperventilate. I needed to get off the phone. “I’ll reserve a spot for you on my calendar,” I managed to squeak out.
“Excellent,” he replied, the humor in his voice subsiding. I didn’t know what to say next. This phone call was probably approaching the record for highest number of uncomfortable silences.
“Cool,” I responded hastily. “Well, I should go.”
“Me too. All that homework.”
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“No problem. It’s my job. Good night, Nick.”
“Night.”
I hung up and rolled over, smashing my face into the mattress. I sounded so stupid. And my jokes were totally lame. He probably thought I was such a dork. I’d reserve a spot on my calendar? Who says that? If he brings it up again, I’ll claim temporary insanity.
I wanted to forget the whole conversation. But now that he’d mentioned prom, even in jest, that’s what I saw every time I closed my eyes. Nick in a tux and me in a beautiful floor-length gown, swaying to the music in the dark. Thanks to that visual, it was a long time before I fell asleep.
The next day at lunch, I was licking Cheetos powder off my fingers when Cass asked, “What are we going to do for the team builder this year?”
I stopped chewing. “Hm, that’s a good question.”
For the last three years, Cassidy had hosted our annual sleepover because she has a heated pool in her backyard. “If we still want to do a sleepover, we need a different venue. My mom will flip if I suggest we have a guy stay the night. Teammate or not.”
Stacie’s face scrunched up. “I hadn’t thought about that. I wonder if my mom would go for it? I mean, it’s not fair to exclude him because he’s a boy.”
Cassidy looked thoughtful. “You should argue that it’s sexual discrimination if we don’t allow him to participate.”
I laughed. “I don’t think it applies in this particular situation. We could always do something different.”
“Yeah, but that would suck,” Cassidy whined. “Let’s at least try to convince Stacie’s mom. If she says yes, the rest of us can conveniently forget to mention that Nick will be there.”
Of all our parents, Stacie’s mom was the most liberal when it came to stuff like boys and questionable activities. It was amusing because Stacie rarely took advantage of it. Cass, on the other hand, was a wild child and her parents were the strictest of all.
I was mulling over the right way to approach things, when a thought occurred to me. “We should talk to Nick before we hit up Stacie’s mom. Maybe he doesn’t want to come to a sleepover.”
“Seriously?” Cass gave me the don’t be stupid look. “What guy wouldn’t want to attend a cheerleader sleepover? It’s, like, in the top three of every teenage boy’s fantasies.”
“How would you know?” Stacie challenged.
Cass rolled her eyes and huffed. “Common sense.”
Stacie ignored her. “Mia, you have Nick’s number. Text him and see if he’ll come talk to us for a minute.”
I pulled out my phone, but Cass snatched it away from me. She had a calculating grin. “What now?” I asked warily.
“I think we should go over to Nick.”
“Why? So you can kiss him again?” I wonder if she heard the disdain in my voice.
“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it, but no. I just want to see the look on everyone’s face when we invite him.”
Stacie smirked. “That’s playing dirty. I like it.” She and Cass stood. While I didn’t like the thought of exploiting Nick to harass the football team, I wasn’t about to let those two bring it up without me. Someone needed to have Nick’s best interest in mind. I grabbed my bag of Cheetos and followed them.
Nick was sitting across from Sean at the very end of our table. There was an empty seat next to him, so I took it. Stacie slid in by Sean, and Cass sat on the edge of the table. “Hey, Nick.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Sean asked, in his womanizing voice. The one that nobody took seriously.
“Official team business,” Stacie replied.
Sean raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively. “Does it involve kissing?”
Cass smirked. “Not today.”
“What’s up?” Nick asked.
Stacie responded, “How do you feel about a cheer team sleepover? Yea or nay?”
Sean’s eyes popped open. “Um, yea. He definitely says yea.”
Nick kicked him under the table. “Why are you asking me?”
“Duh,” Cass said. “You’re part of the team, aren’t you?”
Now Nick’s eyes bugged out. “Wait. You want me to come to the sleepover? As in, stay all night? With a bunch of girls.” I’m sure if he’d thought about it, he would have lowered his voice. But shock and surprise usually have the opposite effect on volume, and it was too late. The rest of the table heard his question, and five or six heads twisted our direction.
“We have a sleepover every year on the first weekend after tryouts as a team-bonding activity,” Stacie explained. “But if you feel uncomfortable or think it’s a dumb idea, then we’ll do something different. We don’t want to leave you out.”
Nick’s forehead wrinkled. “You think you can actually get a parent to approve that?”
“If there were a bunch of boys on the team, I’d say not a chance,” Stacie replied. “But since there’s only one of you, my mom might go for it. With the proper kind of persuasion, of course.”
I glanced around the table. It was clear that all the guys within earshot were fully tuned in to our conversation. Sean was the only one bold enough to say something. “Forget parent approval. The more important question is, will there be any pillow fights, and if so, will you be in pajamas or underwear?”
Stacie’s head lolled toward him, and she gave him a caustic glare. “Really?”
He held up his hands. “It’s a valid question.”
Cass h
uffed. “We will neither confirm nor deny. That’s privileged team information.”
I tried to ignore the whispers growing next to me. Cass had a special talent for creating scandals. Nick turned to me. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m not sure. It’s not that big of a deal, since I can promise you nothing inappropriate will happen.” I said that last part loudly, but I think my efforts were too little, too late. “However, I am worried that administration will get wind of our coed team activity and we’ll get in trouble.”
“They don’t have any jurisdiction over us if we’re away from school and not on a school-sanctioned outing,” Cass argued.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But is it worth the risk?”
“Yes,” one of the football players blurted under his breath, but still loud enough for us to hear. His buddies snickered.
Stacie shook her head, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Well, if my mom’s not on board, it won’t matter anyway. I’ll talk to her tonight, and we’ll see. Just wanted to know your opinion before we went through the trouble of asking.”
Nick reached into my bag of Cheetos and stole one without asking. After tossing it in his mouth, he drummed his fingers on the table for a bit. Finally, he said, “I’ll do whatever the group wants. Honestly, I’d need an alibi if I stayed all night. My parents would be a hard no. But I’m sure Sean would cover for me.”
Sean scoffed. “What’s in it for me? Do I get to come, too?”
Cass batted her eyelashes. “If you join the team.” Sean frowned, and Cass smiled triumphantly.
The bell rang, signaling the start of the second lunch wave. “We can talk about this more later,” Stacie said. She walked around to my side of the table and placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Whatever we decide, keep Saturday night open.”
Cass stood and ruffled his hair. “See ya later, Nicky.”
After they both walked away, he looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Nicky?”
I shook my head, laughing. “Who knows what’s going through her head. I swear she sits around in her free time, thinking of ways to rock the boat. You have to take everything Cass says with a grain of salt and hope that any random nicknames don’t stick.”
“I guess Nicky’s not that bad.” He snaked another Cheeto from my bag.
“Give her time,” I said as I swatted at his hand. When we touched, a jolt of electricity ran up my arm. I don’t know if he felt it, too, but suddenly we were locked in a strange and captivating stare. I started to get lost in his eyes when my brain screamed at me. Keep it professional! “All right, gotta go.” I bolted from my chair and held out my hand for a fist bump. He glanced down curiously, then back at me before knocking our knuckles together. “See you at practice,” I said and scurried away.
Oh my gosh, that was totally weird. I’ve never offered someone a fist bump in my life. It’s so unrefined. And the fact that I felt that way made me even weirder. It’d been the first platonic gesture that came to mind, so I went for it. But, despite the commonality of fist bumps amongst today’s youth, it wasn’t my style. And everyone knew it. Probably even Nick, which is why he looked at me so strangely.
At least I could stop hoping he’d reciprocate my crush. With that super cool move, I’d inadvertently said, Let’s just be friends. And also, I’m a freak. If the first didn’t turn him off, the second surely would. My mother had ruined all my chances of being normal.
Chapter 11
I’d never considered cheerleading to be a sport. That was largely because they didn’t compete. At least, Roosevelt’s cheer squad didn’t. They didn’t keep score. There was no rivalry with another school. It just didn’t feel intense enough. But after three days of practice, I was starting to reconsider.
Cheer might not take as big of a toll on my body as football did, but I was equally tired when I got home at night. We worked nonstop. Especially when it came to dancing. Over and over, until the movements were exactly in sync. Football practices never had that much aerobic activity, and there was always plenty of standing around.
Mia was the soft, encouraging captain. Stacie was the pain master driving us into the ground, brutal about perfection. “Again!” she’d yell, if we were even the slightest bit off. The word had become a profanity to me. My voice was completely raw from yelling. And the smiling…oh, the smiling. My cheeks hurt so bad I was tempted to go home and ice them tonight.
It was five-thirty, and Stacie had just called it quits. I dropped to the floor and began stretching my legs. They were sore in places I hadn’t felt for a long time. “Hey,” Mia said. I looked up and she was wiping her face off with her shirt, exposing the soft curves and skin of her stomach. I quickly averted my eyes, knowing full well that if I started staring, I wouldn’t stop. “We still on for tonight?” she asked.
Were we still on? I’d only been counting down the hours for the last three days. A whole evening, just the two of us. “Of course.”
“Do you want to go home and shower first?”
I’d much rather smell good for our little excursion, but going home would waste precious time with her. “Do you?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m good either way.”
That’s because she was still pretty, even when she was sweaty. I bet if I got close enough, I’d find she smelled like rainbows and sunshine. The fact that she didn’t care about how she looked around me was a little discouraging. I’d been getting lots of mixed signals, but this one seemed clear.
After the party last Friday, I’d become foolishly hopeful that Mia was interested in me. I thought we’d clicked. And though it was a little awkward, our phone conversation had been fun, almost flirty. But ever since Tuesday at lunch, she’d been off. It’s like accepting her fist bump had plunged me deeper into the friend zone. When she held out her hand that day, I should have done something romantic…like kissing it.
Now, I was stuck playing it cool until I could get a better read on her. “I’m good either way, too,” I replied. “I’ll leave it up to you.”
She chewed on her lip. “Let’s skip the showers. Then we have time to grab some food. I’m starving.”
See what I mean? Most girls wouldn’t get near a boy they liked without showering first. But Mia didn’t care about primping for me. On the other hand, she was willing to publicly hang out with me in all my post-practice glory. And I didn’t make it look nearly as good as she did.
“Fine by me. As long as you don’t care how I smell.”
“Nah, I love the smell of hard work.” Was that sarcasm? I couldn’t tell. “Do you like pizza? Carlo’s sells it by the slice.” She offered a hand to pull me up and yanked hard.
As I came to my feet, I ended up in her bubble and smiled down at her. “Who doesn’t like pizza?” She stilled, and her eyelashes fluttered, but then she quickly stepped back. This was going to drive me nuts. I needed to table my feelings and focus on acting natural.
Mia doesn’t have a car, so I drove. When we got to Carlo’s, I was conflicted about whether to open her door. No matter how much I wanted it to be, this wasn’t a date. She made the choice for me by hopping out before I could get there. I did manage to hold the restaurant door, which made me feel a little better. Except I had the same problem when we got in line. My instinct was to pay for her dinner. But the guy behind the counter asked how he could help us, and she stepped in front of me, ordering and paying for herself.
“Three pieces?” I asked, eyeballing her plate. They were big slices. Even I was usually full after three.
Mia grinned. “Told you I was hungry.” She pulled a piece of sausage off the plate. A long string of gooey cheese came with it, and she neatly separated the two before sticking the meat in her mouth. I headed for a booth while she made her way to the condiment table and grabbed a stack of napkins along with a fork and knife. “You want parmesan?” she called.
“Sure.”
She walked back and placed her food on the table. “How about some water?”
>
“Yeah, but I can get it.” I started to stand, and she put her hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down.
“No worries. I’m going over there anyway.”
So, just friends then. She clearly didn’t think of me romantically, or she’d have allowed me to be more of a gentleman. At least that’s how it worked with most of the girls I’d gone out with. I was a little bummed, until the heavenly smell of pepperoni wafted up to my nose and redirected my thoughts. Suddenly, all I could think about was eating.
I leaned my elbows on the table and picked up my first slice. The cheese was hotter than I expected, and some of it dribbled down my chin when I took a bite. I opened my mouth, panting like a dog in an effort to cool it down. I was still doing so when Mia came back with two glasses of ice water and slid onto the bench across from me.
“Cute,” she said with a giggle. My mouthful of food was on display for all to see.
I swiped at my face with the back of my hand, then quickly chewed and swallowed so I could defend myself. “It’s really hot.”
She gave me an amused smirk. “I can tell.”
Mia proceeded to take a napkin from the stack, unfold it, and place it in her lap. I watched with interest as she picked up her fork and knife and cut her first slice into tiny bite-size pieces. After that, she set the knife down and put her left hand in her lap while she gingerly sprinkled cheese on top. When she finally got the pizza on her fork, she brought it to her face and blew on it for a few seconds. Not with a huge puffing action but through puckered lips, as if she were whistling. By the time she actually got a bite in her mouth, I’d almost finished my first piece.
She looked up to see me staring at her and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “What?”
I laughed. “That has got to be the most civilized way I have ever seen anyone eat pizza.”
Mia blushed and took a big gulp of water. “My mom always says that it doesn’t matter if you’re eating steak or hot dogs. It’s important to be polite, because manners are the first thing people notice about you.”
One of the Girls (Friendzone #1) Page 9
