Revenge of the Teacher's Pets

by Jennifer Ziegler

  “Perfect,” I said to myself. A good feeling washed over me, making me smile and skip back over to Darby. This was the best mood I’d been in since school started. I now had a plan to change things for the better, and that was going to make seventh grade all the more bearable — perhaps even enjoyable.

  I rushed back to my small group, interrupting what they were doing.

  “Hey, Riley and Aurelia, we’re going to do some bonus cheering. Do you want to join us?”

  “Bonus cheering?” Aurelia looked over at Riley, who shrugged. Then they both looked at Darby.

  “It’s a … special project of ours,” Darby said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “To stop the rampant discrimination against less popular forms of sports and make Cheer Squad more egalitarian. It’ll be fun!”

  “Um … maybe,” Riley said. “So what would we have to do?”

  “Basically just show up where we tell you and cheer when you get there,” I said.

  Darby peered at me closely. “Dawn? Is Coach Manbeck okay with this?”

  “Not to worry. I’ve already cleared it with her,” I said with a wave of my pom-pom. Then I turned to Riley and Aurelia. “Wanna join our cause?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Excellent. So what are you doing on Saturday about six a.m.?”

  On Friday, Wanda wore really cool shoes. I knew this because I kept ducking under my desk. They were dark blue lace-up boots with little yellow lightning bolts all over them. I was glad she wore them. It made my view a lot less boring while I was stooped over.

  The reason I was hunched over all the time was because Mrs. Champion kept scanning the class and asking people to share their thoughts aloud. She would talk about something in the textbook and say, “Who wants to volunteer their opinion?” Then when no one raised his or her hand, she would glance around the room and call on the person her gaze landed on.

  That didn’t seem like volunteering to me.

  I figured as long as she couldn’t see me, she’d never choose me. So I always managed to be tying my shoes, picking up a pen I “accidentally” dropped, or digging something out of my backpack whenever she started searching for the next person.

  Thankfully, my strategy was working. I’d managed to avoid Mrs. Champion’s eye all through class, and there were only a few minutes left before the bell rang. Although my back was getting stiff and sore from being bent over so much.

  “So the Karankawa people all had two names. One was only known by close family. Do any of you have special nicknames that your family gave you? Anyone want to share?”

  Doppy. I smiled down at the carpet, remembering. When we were really little, Delaney was the first triplet who started talking. She could say Dawn well enough, but she called me Doppy. I don’t remember it — I just remember my parents and Lily talking about it and sometimes calling me that when they were being silly. I always thought it sounded like a name for a magical elf.

  No way was I going to volunteer all that, though. I’d almost gotten through the whole class without getting noticed and planned to keep my streak going. Besides, Tucker would laugh at my Doppy story and then he’d go off and tell his friend Rowdy Buchanan and soon everyone would be calling me that.

  “Anyone?” Mrs. Champion asked.

  I scooched even lower and tried to forget the twinge in my back by admiring Wanda’s shoes again.

  Soon I spied another pair of footwear. They were maroon-colored flats and they were walking right toward me. I knew they belonged to Mrs. Champion. Like an opossum playing dead, I stayed real still. But it was no use — the shoes kept coming and coming until they stopped right in front of my desk.

  “Darby Brewster? Are you back there? We haven’t heard from you yet. Maybe you should volunteer to take this topic.”

  I made a face because I knew she didn’t mean volunteer like I could say “no thank you.” Since I was all hunkered over, Mrs. Champion couldn’t see me grimace. But Wanda could.

  “Mrs. Champion?” Wanda was waving her hand in the air. Suddenly I worried she would tell the teacher I was hiding and secretly making faces. Instead she said, “Darby’s not feeling well.”

  “She isn’t?”

  “No. She told me so when she came in, and she’s been all folded over like that ever since. I think it’s a virus.”

  “Is she going to throw up?” someone asked.

  “Eww!” someone else said.

  Then Tucker started trying to scoot his desk away from me, saying, “I don’t want to be in the line of fire.”

  I groaned. This was the kind of negative attention I was trying to avoid, and it was maybe even worse than people knowing about Doppy.

  “Darby? Let me see you,” Mrs. Champion said. “I’m worried.”

  I slowly sat up straight. Everyone was staring at me. Luckily, all that embarrassment, plus keeping my head low for half an hour, had made my face go red. I could feel the tingly warmth in my cheeks. Mrs. Champion put her hand on my forehead and said, “My goodness, you do look sick.” Her face looked so kind and concerned that I almost told her the truth. But I was still too shy to talk. All I could do was nod back.

  Luckily, the bell rang right at that moment, and everyone stopped looking at me and began packing up their things. Mrs. Champion said, “Why don’t you go straight to the nurse, Darby. I sure hope you feel better soon.”

  As I headed into the hallway, I saw Wanda standing there. She fell into step beside me.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” I said back. “Um … thanks, for …” I wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Thanks for lying for me? Thanks for helping me avoid being called on?

  Before I could decide how to phrase it, she smiled at me and said, “No problem. So tell me. How come you never want to answer questions?”

  Now my cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I … I just … I’m shy. It’s hard for me to speak up.”

  “Yeah, I thought so. It’s hard for me, too. I’m not as shy as you, but still. It’s tough because no one knows who I am yet.”

  I glanced over at her. Wanda walked slightly humpbacked, with her big black backpack slung behind her and her hands in her front pockets. Her eyes, what I could see of them, kept glancing around at the people passing us and the posters on the walls. I tried to imagine how she must be feeling. I had no idea what it was like to walk through a school and not know anyone there — mainly because I’ve lived in the same small town my whole life and knew most of the kids in my grade even before I started school. But I figured it probably didn’t feel good.

  I thought about what Mrs. Neighbor had said to me when I dove behind her nandina bushes. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Wanda, I have to tell you something.”

  “Really? What?” She seemed surprised. We stopped walking and stood against the wall, near the trophy case.

  “I … I …” I took another big breath and forced the rest of the sentence out of me. “I was the one who left the bag on your front step that one day.”

  “You’re the Pop-Tart Fairy?” Wanda smiled so big, the tips of her cheeks disappeared behind her bangs.

  “I was trying to do something nice to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “It was nice. I love Pop-Tarts. But why didn’t you ring the doorbell and say hi? Is it because of the shyness?”

  I nodded and stared down at my shoes.

  “Well, now I can say thank you. So, thank you!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I hope you come by my house again sometime. Only this time, I hope you ring the bell.”

  “I promise I will.”

  “Good.”

  The blaze in my cheeks had gone out and I felt much less shy. In fact, I felt great. I hadn’t known Wanda that long, but already she knew personal things about me — like my shyness and how I was hiding from the teacher. But instead of feeling ashamed, I felt closer to her.

  “By the way, you have the coolest shoes,” I said.

  “Thanks.”

&
nbsp; “And the coolest haircut.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And the second coolest bicycle.”

  “Second coolest?”

  All the way to her second period I told her about Lucas Westbrook, the rich boy who lived down the street from us, and his beautiful silver bike. I was almost late to my own class because of it, but I didn’t mind. I’d made a friend.

  And walking the halls with a friend felt almost as good as walking with sisters.

  Where is everyone?” Mom asked as she pulled the car into Scofield Park.

  The place did seem pretty empty. Probably because the sun hadn’t come up yet and most people were home in bed, or, like our mom was just twenty minutes ago, stumbling around their houses with a cup of coffee. In the dim light, we could eventually see a cluster of people near the swing sets.

  “Over there!” Dawn said, pointing.

  Mom pulled up near the playground area, and sure enough, we could see that the assembled people were wearing running outfits in many different colors. One group clearly had on navy blue JCMS shirts, the same color as the Pom Squad shirts we had on. After putting the car in park, Mom turned to look at us. Her face was still a little puffy like it gets when she first wakes up, and her hair hadn’t been brushed yet. “You sure you have whatever it is you need?”

  “Let’s see …” Dawn said. “Pom-poms — check. Megaphone — check. Three water bottles — check. Yep. All set.”

  “Here.” Mom pulled her cell phone out of her purse and handed it to Darby. “Call my office phone when you’re done and I’ll come pick you up.”

  “Wow, thanks, Mom,” I said. She smiled and then it turned into a yawn.

  “And thanks for driving us here so early,” Darby said.

  “You’re welcome,” Mom said. “I’m just happy you girls are enjoying Pom Squad. Although, I have to say, it sure has changed over the years. I don’t think they ever cheered for cross-country when I was in school.”

  “Actually —” I began.

  “Actually, we really should get up there and get ready,” Dawn interrupted. “Thanks, Mom! Bye!”

  We climbed out of the car with our gear and waved to Mom. By now, more cars were starting to pull into the lot. We fell into step behind three girl runners wearing yellow-and-green outfits and joined the small crowd congregating nearby.

  Even with all the practicing over the summer and a couple of weeks of getting up early for school, Darby was still zonked that morning. I had to help steer her through the park so she didn’t bump into trees. Dawn, on the other hand, seemed wide awake. In fact, she was all fired up and barking out orders.

  Dawn stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the surroundings. “Where are Riley and Aurelia and all the other recruits?” she asked. “Didn’t we remind them?”

  “Yeah, but … I don’t think they’re coming,” Darby said. “Aurelia said she thought she was busy.”

  “That’s crazy. Who has plans at six a.m. on a Saturday?” Dawn said, throwing her arms up.

  “Exactly,” Darby said. “That means she doesn’t want to come. And I’m guessing it’s the same with Riley. And probably the others we talked to don’t want to come, either.”

  Dawn made a huffing sound. “What kind of spirit leaders are they?”

  “Probably the kind who want to sleep in on a Saturday,” I said.

  “Fine,” Dawn said. “We don’t need them. One nice thing about being a triplet is that you have your own built-in group.”

  “Where do you think we should stand and cheer?” I asked, glancing all around.

  “Probably near that banner that says ‘Start,’ ” Dawn said, pointing.

  There were probably four different girls’ cross-country teams there, all of them stretching and talking in the same general area. After stashing our supplies under a nearby tree, we found an open spot in front of them and stood at attention, pom-poms in hand, hands on hips.

  A woman walked over to us. I knew she was the coach because she had on a JCMS T-shirt that said COACH across the back.

  “Excuse me, are you three with the team?”

  “We’re official Cheer Squad people and we’re here to cheer our team on,” I explained.

  “Is that so?” she said, her eyebrows flying high on her forehead. “Well, okay, I guess. But you’re standing on the actual course. We need to keep this area right here clear, all right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We will,” Dawn said, and we scooted over to the side.

  After she walked away, Dawn leaned in toward me and said, “I think it’s time to get started. Why don’t you lead us, Delaney? You have the loudest voice.” That was the first time someone had pointed that out in a good way.

  We spaced ourselves out, and then I cupped my hands around my mouth and started a cheer. “Hey, hey, it’s time to fight!” Suddenly I felt Darby elbowing me in my side.

  “Um, Delaney,” she said. “That’s for football. Running isn’t a contact sport.”

  “Oh yeah. How about this? Hey, fans in the stands!” More elbows — this time from Dawn. Only she didn’t have to explain why she stopped me. “Right. No stands.” It sure would have been easier if there were stands. Everyone was kind of milling about and it was hard to know how to face the crowd.

  Eventually we just stood in a row, facing the area marked off as the running path. Dawn glanced over at me and nodded. This time I decided to do a simple chant of our school initials.

  “J! C! M! S!” Clap! “J! C! M! S!” Clap! “J! C! M! S!” Darby joined up with me, stomping and clapping. I think she was cheering, too, but I couldn’t hear her over my own voice. Meanwhile, Dawn was chanting through the megaphone.

  After a couple of rounds, a few other onlookers joined in. It was amazing! Dawn caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. We continued the chant three more times and then I ended it with some spirited whooping and clapping.

  Two of the yellow-and-green-wearing runners walked past as we were taking sips of water. I heard one girl say to the other, “Hey, how come only their team has cheerleaders?” This made us smile again.

  At that point, the runners seemed to be done stretching and they all stood in a clumpy semicircle by the starting line. Dawn gave me the signal to start us again, and this time I decided to just make up a cheer for cross-country — one that got right to the point. “Go, Patriots! Go, Patriots! Run run run! Go, Patriots! Go, Patriots! Run run run!”

  We repeated it three times, and in the middle of the fourth time, a man in a white cap fired off the starting gun. It was so loud, I screamed and stopped the cheer.

  Instantly the runners took off. We hollered and jumped up and down, and I even did a couple of cartwheels as soon as there was room, which felt great. Strangely, most of the runners didn’t even look at us, they just focused straight ahead. But a couple of them smiled.

  We watched as they ran down the stretch and up a little rise. Once they’d all disappeared behind a grove of trees, we stopped our whooping and hollering.

  “Yes!” Dawn said, raising her fist in the air. “Good job, team.”

  “That was fun!” I said, giving Darby a high five.

  “So now what?” Darby asked.

  “We wait, I guess,” Dawn said. “Keep a lookout for when they return.”

  “How long will that be?” I asked.

  Dawn shrugged. “Maybe you should ask someone. I’m going to grab a sip of water.”

  As she and Darby headed back to our tree, I turned to a lady walking past. “Excuse me, ma’am. About how long until the runners head back here?”

  She gave me a funny look. “What are you talking about?”

  “The runners who just ran off. How long until they return?”

  “They don’t. This is cross-country, not track. They run across country. Instead of a loop, the path is a line.”

  My mouth dropped open. I’m not sure why I never understood that before. It was right there in the name, all along.

  I ran over to Dawn and Darby. “U
m, I have some bad news. Those runners? They aren’t coming back here. Ever.” I explained to them about cross-country.

  “Huh.” Dawn tapped her finger against her chin. “Well, that’s a detail we probably shouldn’t have overlooked.”

  “Wait …” Darby held up one hand like a traffic cop. “So that’s it? We got up before the sun and came all the way out here to boost spirit for five minutes?”

  “Guess so.” Dawn’s voice was the opposite of cheering.

  I was disappointed, too. Not only had it been fun, it was also good to see Dawn excited about cheering. If this project of hers went well, she might change her mind about Cheer Squad.

  “So what’s happening now? Where’s everyone going?” Darby pointed to the parking lot, where all the coaches and onlookers were getting into cars and driving away.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Dawn said, and walked over to chat with the same coach from before. After a while she came back

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “They’re driving to the finish line — which, if you ask me, doesn’t seem like setting a good example for your runners,” Dawn said. “Anyway, I asked them if we could go with them and cheer at the end of the race.”

  “Great idea!”

  “Unfortunately, there was no room in her car because of all the big coolers and other people. Plus, she said something about liability.”

  “Oh.”

  “But there was also good news. She said another reason they had to leave was because the boys’ team has their meet right here in an hour, so they had to clear out for them.”

  “We can stay here and cheer for them!” I said, jumping up and down.

  “And we can be even more prepared,” Dawn said. “There’s got to be a better way to do this. Ideas?”

  I twirled in a circle a few times until a good idea spun up in my head. “Okay, I got it,” I said as I stopped turning. Then I waited a few seconds for the rest of the park to stop spinning. “What if we spaced ourselves out at various spots around the course? That way they could kind of get cheered the whole way.”