Revenge of the Teacher's Pets

by Jennifer Ziegler

  “Hmmm …” Dawn tapped her finger against her chin. “But that would have just one of us cheering for a whole area. Wouldn’t it be kind of quiet? Darby would probably be too shy anyway.”

  “I would,” Darby said. “I can’t deny it.”

  “But it is a good idea, Delaney,” Dawn said, patting me on my shoulder. “We’ll do it for the next meet, when we have more Cheer Squad people joining us.” Darby and I exchanged looks. I could tell she felt the same way I did — that we probably weren’t going to convince anyone else to join us at a park at six a.m. on a Saturday.

  “Also,” Dawn went on, “next time we can make spirit signs to hang in the trees. Or maybe bring the drum line. I sure wish we could get hold of a T-shirt cannon. That would help fire things up.”

  I giggled. “Ha! Fire things up. I get it!” Dawn just frowned at me, though, so I guess she didn’t mean it as a joke. Once again, Darby and I traded looks. But not for long, because just then a couple of cars pulled up and another coach got out. I recognized him from school.

  “Any other ideas?” Dawn asked. She waited a full minute, and when neither Darby nor I said anything else, said, “Fine. We’ll just do the best we can. But let me know if you get any flashes of brilliance.”

  As we waited for the next race, Darby pumped herself forward and back on a nearby swing, Dawn sat on a bench tapping her chin and muttering, and I did a little of everything — slides, swings, monkey bars. Soon the boys and their coaching staffs started to show up. When it seemed like most everyone had arrived, Dawn stood up from the bench and motioned to us.

  “Places, everyone!” Dawn yelled.

  Only none of us were sure what places she meant, so we went in different directions for a couple of moments. Finally we arranged ourselves near our previous cheer spot, where all the teams were assembling for a prerace stretch. As I glanced over at the runners, I noticed a familiar face. “Hey, look, there’s Tommy Ybarra,” I said to Dawn and Darby. “Tommy! Hi! Hey, Tommy!”

  Tommy glanced around, looking confused. Eventually he saw us standing over to the side.

  “Run fast, Tommy!” I said, jumping up and down. Other runners were looking at him now. They were probably jealous that he had three official spirit boosters cheering him on.

  A really tall man in JCMS colors came over to us, the boys’ coach from our school. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We’re here to officially cheer on the JCMS runners,” Dawn said. “We just gave the girls’ team a great send-off.”

  Coach took off his cap and scratched his head. “Well, all right. But be careful to stay out of the way, okay?”

  “You have our word, Coach!” Dawn said. After he walked back to his team, she turned to me. “Go ahead and get started. I think they’re almost ready.”

  “Aye-aye,” I said, saluting her with a pom-pom.

  I decided to lead us in the “Our Team Is Red Hot” cheer, which was really appropriate because the sun was up now and everyone was looking kind of pink and sweaty.

  “Our team is red hot!” I began. Dawn and Darby joined me on the next part. “Our team is red hot! Our team is R-E-D H-O-T. Once we start, we can’t stop!” Clap! Clap!

  The runners and onlookers reacted pretty much the same as the group before — some confused, others smiling — but this time, no one joined in with us. When we finished, there was a little trickle of applause.

  For the next cheer, I did another made-up cross-country chant: “We’ve got spirit, we’ve got force, we’ve got the best runners on the course!” It took a couple of rounds, but eventually Dawn and Darby joined in. When we finished this one, the clapping was even louder and there were more smiles. It really did feel like we were boosting spirit.

  Just as we were about to start another cheer, an official shouted for the runners to get ready.

  “Good job, Delaney,” Darby said as we stood silently, waiting for the starting gun.

  “Yeah,” Dawn said. “If only we could somehow keep it up throughout the race.”

  And right at that moment, I got a good idea — a way to keep the cheering going. It popped into my brain just as the starting gun went off. The only downside was, there was no time to bring it up with Dawn and Darby. I had to test this one out on my own.

  Since there were so many runners, they all had to start out kind of slowish, so it was easy for me to scoot along the sidelines with them. I scanned the faces and eventually found Tommy Ybarra. Tommy wasn’t exactly a friend of ours, but we liked him fine. And my idea would work best if I fixed on only one of the racers.

  “Go, Tommy, go!” I shouted as I sidestepped beside the crowd of runners. “Go, Tommy, go!”

  I continued to run alongside him, calling out the cheer. I couldn’t do any jumps, though, because I was running. Soon the pack started going faster, but this was when I tested out the main part of my plan: I put on a burst of speed and ran way out in front of Tommy on the side of the course. When he got near me again, I started jumping and shouting his name again.

  “TOM-my! TOM-my! TOM-my! TOM-my!”

  “What are you doing?” he said as he went past.

  “Cheering!” I was having so much fun, I decided to do it some more. I put on another burst of speed, ran out way ahead of him, and hollered and jumped for him all over again.

  “Stop it!” he said as he passed me again. Only I didn’t really pay attention to what he was saying at the time, because I was enjoying myself too much.

  I raced far ahead to another spot along the course and chanted his name a third time.

  “Go away!” Tommy said as he ran past, this time a little more loudly. Then he scrunched up his face, ducked his head, and started running really fast. I tried, but I couldn’t catch up to him.

  I stood and watched as he disappeared into the distance. And then I realized something: Tommy was way far ahead of the other runners.

  “Wow,” I said to myself. “This cheerleading thing really works!”

  I just don’t understand. Who told you to go out and cheer?”

  It was Monday morning at school and we were in Mr. Plunkett’s office with Coach Manbeck, the two cross-country coaches, and of course Mr. Plunkett. I’d noticed he’d added another chair, facing his desk, so my sisters and I could all sit now. But that meant the coaches were all standing behind him, like a very tall, very stern wall.

  “Well …” Delaney glanced over at me. “No one told us to. It was kind of our own idea.”

  “We thought it would be nice to boost spirit for other athletic events,” Darby added, “and would make things more fair.”

  Everything went silent while the adults exchanged glances.

  “Are we in trouble?” I asked. “Because I know my rights. We’re not saying anything more until we know what we’re being charged with — at the risk of being self-incriminating.”

  “No,” said Coach Manbeck, “you aren’t in trouble. I for one think it’s great that you wanted to spread school spirit. It was a very bold and original idea. It’s just that you should have told me first.”

  I tilted my head. “But I did mention it to you,” I said. “You agreed that it was our duty as Cheer Squad members to boost spirit at all school events.”

  “Oh, that.” Coach Manbeck looked over at Mr. Plunkett. “It’s true. I did agree to that sentiment.”

  “The problem is,” said the girls’ cross-country coach, “there are reasons why our sport doesn’t typically have Cheer Squads out at the racing site. There are safety issues, for one.”

  “Like snakes?” Delaney asked.

  “Poison ivy?” Darby asked.

  “Misfiring T-shirt cannons?” I asked.

  The coach kept shaking her head no. “I mean, like what if one of you had fallen and gotten hurt?”

  Darby, Delaney, and I met one another’s eyes. We knew about such mishaps. “Right,” I said. “I guess we didn’t think about that.”

  “But also,” said the boys’ coach, “my runners need to focu
s, and all the yelling and jumping is a distraction. Plus, shouting at them to go faster goes against coaching advice. Cross-country races are not sprints. If they go too fast, they won’t have enough energy left to finish the race. Tommy Ybarra barely finished on Saturday.”

  “Oh no.” Delaney’s voice cracked slightly. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to fill him with the fire of champions.”

  The boys’ coach smiled. “It’s all right. This was just a practice meet, and now Tommy knows the importance of reserving energy. But I hope you understand that we can’t have you out there cheering for us like that.”

  “But you’re definitely welcome to come watch,” added the girls’ coach. “Or even join the team.”

  I noticed Delaney and Darby perk up a bit, as if seriously considering that. It was time for me to take charge.

  I cleared my throat and stood up from my chair. “On behalf of my sisters and me, I just want to say that we’re sorry. All we wanted was for all of the athletes to feel special — not just a select few. The way we see it, everyone deserves a chance to shine at something.”

  The girls’ coach stepped forward and held out her hand. I shook it. “I think it’s great that the three of you wanted to boost school spirit at additional events,” she said. “But cross-country just isn’t the best fit.”

  “You have our word, ma’am,” I said. “We won’t cheer for cross-country anymore.”

  “Good. I appreciate that,” said the boys’ cross-country coach.

  At that point, Mr. Plunkett thanked all three coaches for their time and said that they could go, that he would handle it the rest of the way.

  “Coach Manbeck,” Delaney said, her voice still a little shaky, “are we kicked out of Cheer Squad?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “And you still take the position that spirit boosting is for the whole school and not just the select few?” I asked.

  “I do,” Coach Manbeck said. “Thank you for trying.” She gave me a little pat on the back as she went past and then headed out into the hallway behind the other coaches.

  After the coaches left, Mr. Plunkett took off his glasses and looked each of us in the eye. “I’m glad we were all able to straighten that out,” he said. “Do any of you want to stay longer and talk about what happened?”

  “Not really.”

  “No.”

  Darby shook her head.

  “Very well, then. Here are passes for each of you to head back to class. You may go.” Mr. Plunkett handed each of us a small pink slip of paper. Then he put his glasses back on and turned toward his computer.

  We headed out into the corridor and shut the door behind us. “Wow,” Delaney said. “Did you count how many adults were in there? It was like the Situation Room in the White House.”

  “I know,” Darby said. “I feel so ashamed.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “We didn’t get in any trouble. Did you hear what Coach Manbeck said?” I could still feel the spot on my back where she gave me a pat. “I think she was trying to send us a message.”

  Darby made a face. “A message? What kind of message?”

  “That she wants us to keep trying to boost spirit for less popular activities. We just chose the wrong sport, is all.”

  “I’m not sure that’s what she meant,” Delaney said.

  “Sure it was. We just have to have a better plan next time.”

  “So … there’ll be a next time?” Darby asked.

  Only I didn’t get to answer, because right at that moment Delaney started shouting. “Look, there’s Lucas. Hey, Lucas! Over here!”

  Sure enough, Lucas Westbrook was standing on a step stool, taping up a sign on the wall. He glanced over and smiled a shiny smile at us. He got his braces off just last month, but his smile still gleams. Plus, I noticed he’d gotten taller since the last time we saw him.

  “Hi, Lucas. What are you doing?” Delaney said as she scurried up to him, with Darby and me a few steps behind.

  “Hanging up some posters,” Lucas said. “What are you guys doing?”

  “We were just talking with Mr. Plunkett again,” I said.

  “Again?” Lucas looked confused.

  “Yeah, we pretty much talk to him on a regular basis now,” Delaney explained, “on account of we’re still trying to get into Color Guard.”

  “We’re in Cheer Squad instead,” I said.

  “But only because we were hungry for corn dogs,” Delaney said.

  “We’re trying to make the best of it,” Darby said.

  Lucas stepped down off the stool and turned to face us. “Do y’all want to come over after school? I got some cool new stuff.”

  Lucas is just about the most spoiled boy in Texas. I’m not joking. You know all the gadgets, gizmos, and games that regular kids tend to have? Well, Lucas has the best, most expensive kinds. And usually five of them. Plus, he has all kinds of extra things that no one has — like his own golf cart and an actual machine that can make soda pop however you like it.

  But Lucas is also really nice and a reliable friend. He always shares and likes it when people come over. Over the summer, he tried to teach us how to lasso, and he never got annoyed when we knocked things over or scared his cat, Megamuffin, or lassoed the sprinkler and accidentally made it spray water onto the grill, soaking our hamburgers, like Delaney did once.

  Also, Lucas has nice eyes. They’re such a pretty color blue that when I look at them, I sometimes forget what I’m talking about. That’s why I was staring at his sneakers instead.

  “Sorry, we can’t join you,” I said to his shoes. “We have an important meeting tonight.” We actually didn’t have one officially scheduled yet, but I figured we probably would, since we needed to figure out where to cheer next.

  “Oh, okay,” Lucas said. “Maybe later on, then.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, gotta go finish hanging these up. Bye!”

  Once Lucas was a few yards away and I couldn’t see his eyes anymore, my mind worked better. That’s when a new thought occurred to me. “Hey, Lucas,” I called out.

  He turned around. “Yeah?”

  “Do you have a T-shirt cannon, by any chance?”

  He tilted his head, no doubt considering his vast treasure of toys, tools, and other doohickeys. “No,” he said finally.

  “Too bad,” I said. “Think your folks would get you one if you asked?”

  “Huh?”

  “Dawn!” Darby whisper-yelled.

  “Never mind,” I called back to Lucas. “Carry on with what you’re doing. Go …” I glanced up at the poster he’d just hung on the wall: JCMS CHESS CLUB MATCH — 7:00 P.M. MONDAY IN THE CAFETERIA. “Go chess club!”

  “Thanks,” he said, and kept on walking.

  Go chess club. My words seem to echo inside my head. Go … chess … club. And just like that, a brilliant plan lit up my brain like fireworks. I stood there openmouthed, my hand still raised in a wave. By the time Lucas had disappeared around the corner, I knew what we had to do.

  “Darby? Delaney? Come in close,” I said, waving them toward me. “I have another idea. An even better one.”

  “What’s going on?” Delaney asked.

  “Our goal of spreading spirit can still be achieved. What we need to do” — I paused for suspense and looked each of them in the eye — “is cheer for people who don’t even get the honor of being called athletes.”

  Our house was full of noise. Mom was meeting with a client somewhere in town, and we stayed at home so we could walk over to the school for the seven p.m. chess meet. In the meantime, Dawn was upstairs playing with the megaphone she had borrowed, and Delaney was in the living room testing out cheers for tonight’s spirit booster. Quincy, meanwhile, thought Delaney was playing with him and kept running all around, whining and barking. It’s times like these when our house feels really small, and I can’t seem to find a room — or even a corner — where I can just sit and ponder.

  I went outside, sa
t down on the steps of our porch, and tried to sort out my thoughts — but it was hard. I’d be thinking about Mrs. Champion’s class and how I might avoid her calling on me, and then I’d hear Dawn’s voice through the open window of our bedroom, bugling through the megaphone: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal …” Or I’d be trying to decide how I felt about Dawn’s big idea to cheer for chess team, but then I’d hear Delaney jumping around the living room, hollering, “We are challenged! And challenged we will be!”

  After a while, I got up and walked over to the flagpole in the middle of our front yard. I placed my hand on its smooth metal surface, still warm from the sun, and twirled around and around, faster and faster — the way Delaney likes to do. She says moving around helps her brain think, kind of like shaking a pan of muddy gravel to find a chunk of gold. Unfortunately, all it did was make me dizzy.

  Feeling woozy, I sat on the concrete base and leaned against the pole. As I waited to feel steady again, I saw something coming toward me. It took me a minute to figure out what it was, because I was still all whirly and the image kept sliding off to the right.

  “Hi,” said the swirly figure.

  I blinked my eyes several times. Eventually my eyes focused and I could see Wanda standing in front of me, smiling. Her pretty aqua-colored bicycle was leaning against our fence at the end of our driveway.

  “Hi there,” I said.

  “I was riding past and saw you sitting out here, so I thought I’d come over,” she said. “If that’s okay.”

  “Of course.” I got to my feet and brushed dirt off my shorts. “Do you want to …” I paused. I had been about to invite her inside, but it was so loud. Dawn was now reciting Kennedy’s inaugural address and Delaney was whooping and, from the sound of it, jumping all over the room.

  Plus, for some reason, I didn’t want to share her with Dawn and Delaney — at least not yet. I figured I had some time before our chess meet cheering.

  “Do you want to go for a walk?” I said finally. “I can show you some cool places.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Can I leave my bike here?”