The tension returned to Jack’s eyes for a split second. “Well that, and—”
“And what?” I asked. “How do we help you win?”
“Telling you would be against the rules.” He left us with that and headed for the boys’ locker room.
I pushed down my own tension and called out to him, “Wait a minute. I thought there were no rules.”
Jack smiled and waved before turning into the hallway.
“Whoa,” Moni said. “What did I tell you? This cheerleading thing? Paying off. Big-time.”
5
From The Prairie Stone High Varsity Cheerleading Guide:
Time to take center stage—or court. Pep rallies are your chance to really let your school spirit shine. Dedicated fans will always attend a big game, but what about the fair-weather fan? Now’s your chance to convince them. Get out there and make heads turn!
For the first time all year, Moni managed to arrive at school early the next morning, and we headed up to the library. If I thought she was taking the cheerleading thing too seriously, well, here was the proof. She scanned the nonfiction shelves for books on basketball, wrestling, and even gymnastics.
Meanwhile, I was working frantically on my latest Life at Prairie Stone column. Todd was right; it was overdue. And, after his supreme obnoxiousness yesterday, I didn’t want to prove that the only thing cheerleading really could change was me—into a slacker. But by the time I’d come home from the wrestling meet, I could barely lift a pencil, never mind write a whole column.
At least I already had my interview—a senior who split his day between Prairie Stone High and Prairie Stone State, where my dad taught. I hadn’t known it before, but Jarrod Scott was taking one of my dad’s classes, Intro to Psychology.
Moni hurried back and forth, pulling books from the shelves and plopping them on the table where I sat. I held the digital recorder to my ear. I’d listened to the entire interview twice but kept coming back to one quote: “We were talking about change in your dad’s class and how we resist it,” Jarrod said, “even when something good happens to us.”
It was an interesting idea. I thought I could write the column around it if I got rid of the “dad” part. That had been weird, talking to someone in my dad’s class, and I didn’t need that information printed for all of Prairie Stone High to see.
Moni rushed up to the table, an open book in her hands. Her eyes were bright, and the reference section of the library was way too quiet when she asked, “Did you know that in ancient Greece the men wrestled naked?”
The librarian coughed. I clicked off the digital recorder.
“Listen to this. They anointed wrestlers with olive oil,” Moni read. “After that, they were dusted with powder to make them easier to hold.” She slammed the book shut. “Whoa. Now that’s a sport I can get behind. Too bad they don’t anoint these days.”
The librarian coughed again.
“That would so be a cheerleader’s job.” Moni collapsed into the opposite chair like all of it—the oil, anointing, and powder—was just too much.
“I suppose you’d get Rick Mangers,” I told her, “and I’d have to anoint a bunch of skinny freshmen.”
The librarian coughed for a third time, and I thought I might have to use the Heimlich maneuver on her.
Moni flipped through the book’s pages. “Thing is, wrestling? Really complicated. I still don’t get all the rules.”
“I think the first rule is to use plenty of oil.”
Moni snorted. I looked over at the librarian, waiting for her to give me the international sign for “I’m choking,” but the kind of torso usually found on Greek gods blocked my view.
“Oil for what?” a voice asked.
I didn’t need to look up to tell who’d addressed us. I’d know Jack Paulson’s voice anywhere. Maybe if I turned my eyes back to my column, he’d disappear. Then Moni and I could go back to our ridiculous debate over ancient Greece and skinny freshmen. And maybe I wouldn’t have to employ the international sign for choking, this time for myself.
A hint of a smile lit Jack’s face. Had he heard the whole thing? “Whatcha reading?” he said.
“I believe they’re called books.” Rick Mangers appeared. He bopped Jack on the head, then crossed his arms over his chest and focused on Moni.
“Oh, yeah,” Jack said, “those things that collect dust at the bottom of your locker.”
Rick used a finger to lift the cover of Moni’s book on wrestling. “What do you say, Paulson? They cheer the whole season and we go double or nothing on that bet?”
“You’re on.”
“That’s—” One hundred dollars, I started to say, but we could all do the math. At least I was pretty sure we all could. No one else seemed to think this raising-the-stakes thing mattered, especially not Jack. He just stared at my chest.
Not that there was much to stare at. Then I remembered my accessory du jour, the SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL MASTERDEBATER! pin that Brian had foisted on me in the hallway outside the library.
“It’s—,” I started again, but really, there was no explaining something like that. “I mean, I was wondering if you could lend me your copy of The Lord of the Rings? I need a book for reading today.”
“I suppose you’ve already read everything else in here,” Jack said.
Of course. We were in the library. Surrounded by books. Now probably wasn’t the time to admit I’d already read The Lord of the Rings—twice. “Well, there’s this.” I held up a book on basketball. “But technically it’s not a novel.”
Jack took a step back. “You two are really serious, aren’t you?”
“We’ve been talking.” I glanced across the table, but Moni was under Rick’s spell and didn’t meet my eyes. “It doesn’t make sense to cheer for something we don’t understand. We think cheerleading tryouts should include a quiz.”
Rick burst out laughing. “It’s going to be an interesting season. I’ll be seeing you girls later.” Moni watched Rick swagger from the library. When he hesitated near the magazine racks, she hopped up to walk him to the exit.
Jack gave me that same mysterious look, the one I could never read. He stuck his hands in his pockets, stared at the floor, and said, “See ya in class.”
He left before I could say good-bye. When the library’s double doors shut behind him and Rick, Moni nearly ran back to the table. “How much do you think they heard?”
“Like it matters?” I said. “I’m always saying stupid stuff around Jack.” Maybe the cheerleading uniform was a Get Out of Smart Free card.
“It doesn’t matter. I think he’s into you.”
“No way.”
“Way. How many times has he shown up where you are in the last few days? Come on, instead of breakfast in the cafeteria, he’s at the library, before school? When’s the last time Jack Paulson even stepped foot in here?”
“Oh? So that explains why Rick couldn’t find his way back out?”
A blush washed over Moni’s face. “C’mon, Bee, Rick’s so totally cute. Do you think there’s any—”
“He’s got a reputation as a player,” I warned her. But it was more than that, really. Something told me he enjoyed having a reputation. And that bothered me.
“I know.” Moni sighed. “But does it matter?”
Maybe. Maybe not. I liked giving people the benefit of the doubt. If only this bet between him and Jack didn’t seem so much like a joke. Geek girls or not, I didn’t want either one of us to figure into the punch line.
If the librarian hadn’t coughed one more time, I might not have noticed the odd look she gave me when I checked out the book on basketball. And later, if Todd hadn’t glared, I might not have noticed that I followed him from honors history into the wrong classroom. My mind was on Jack—and that bet. Only when I rushed into Independent Reading late, and Jack aimed his eyes my way, did I come back to the present.
Like Jane Austen might say in Pride and Prejudice—such fine eyes. No one with eyes like Jack’
s could do anything deliberately cruel.
“Your tallest five,” Coach Miller said to Sheila.
Moni and I stood with the rest of the cheerleading squad just outside the gym doors. It was the Friday of the first basketball game. Royalty was the pep rally’s theme, and the Student Council had decked the gym in school colors.
“It looks ridiculous for a tall boy to be escorted by a short girl.” Coach Miller sent the smaller girls a disapproving look. “I’d like to maintain a sense of dignity.”
Dignity? Of course. That must be the rationale behind the paper crowns and the oh-so-dignified shiny, plastic, purple robes. Kings of the Court, get it? Moni poked me in the ribs, and we both tried not to snicker.
Inside the gym, each class packed its own set of bleachers, freshmen at the end by the doors, with seniors near the front. I heard the band play the opening notes to Pink’s “Get the Party Started.” The cheerleading squad was supposed to be dancing to that. Instead we fluffed our pom-poms in the lobby while Coach Miller and Sheila negotiated.
“All right. We can work with it.” When Sheila pinched the bridge of her nose, then tipped her head toward the gym, I caught the disappointment in her eyes. We’d all worked hard on that dance routine. The only reason we were any good was Sheila’s unrelenting faith that we could be. That, and the fear she’d go ninja on us if we screwed up.
“Let’s see.” Sheila bit a perfectly painted nail and looked us over. “Bethany, Kaleigh, Cassidy, Elaine, and Brianna. Line up by height, girls.”
Kaleigh bolted to the front of the line, even though I was taller. And we both knew it. I fell in behind her anyway.
“Actually, Kaleigh,” Sheila said, “Bethany’s got at least an inch on you.”
“But look.” Kaleigh waved a hand between her head and mine, showcasing her teased ponytail, and I could’ve sworn Sheila swallowed a smile.
“Hairstyles don’t count, sweetie,” said Sheila.
I traded places with Kaleigh, who “accidentally” pushed me from behind. I stumbled forward into the gym and finally grasped the reason behind Kaleigh’s attitude: There stood Jack Paulson, a paper crown on his adorable head, waiting to be escorted by the tallest girl. Of course. As the tallest boy, he’d be first. Duh.
I teetered on the balls of my feet and fought for balance. Never mind the entire school, I didn’t want to trip in front of Jack. I adjusted my skirt and walked a mostly straight line toward him. When we met, I took his arm the way Coach Miller had instructed. Jack grimaced, but a shiny purple robe and paper crown could do that to anyone. Right?
A long, plum-colored, construction-paper carpet wound its way across the gym floor to the place of honor beneath the basketball hoop. My Skechers touched the carpet in tandem with Jack’s high-tops. At that moment Coach Miller threw up a hand to halt us.
I squinted to see the holdup. Coach Miller seemed to be having the same type of conversation as he’d had with Sheila, only this time with the band director.
Jack swore under his breath. “I can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s making the whole school wait.”
When he didn’t elaborate, I whispered, “For what?”
“For us,” he said.
“I don’t think the whole school minds,” I said.
“They should.”
On the band director’s cue, the members of the Prairie Stone Jazz Band lowered their instruments and dug through their music folders. Light glinted off Brian’s trombone while he juggled it and sheet music. The crowd murmured, then pockets of chatter broke out in the stands.
“Do you mind?” I asked Jack.
“It’s the worst part of basketball season.”
Really? I glanced at him, not sure I’d heard right. Jack stepped out onto the court every day. He could probably do layups in his sleep and was no doubt personally acquainted with every plank in the honey-colored wood floor. If anyone owned this court, it was him. I looked up at the tension in his jaw and wondered—maybe it was one thing to step out there wearing a jersey and holding a basketball, something entirely different under the weight of a shiny robe and paper crown.
I’d never thought of it that way before, never thought what it was like to walk across fake purple carpets or shake pom-poms and various body parts center court. And I never thought anyone who did those things minded being in the spotlight.
“You know,” I said, as the jazz band settled down, “it’s either this or honors chemistry.”
“Or Rocks for Jocks.” Somewhere behind the scowl was the start of a little-boy grin.
“No one wants to be in class,” I told him. “Really.”
The band director raised his baton. The first strains of Queen’s “We Are the Champions” filled the gym, and the chatter died. It was showtime.
“Except Todd,” I added. “He’d rather be in class.”
Jack laughed. He actually laughed. And reached for my hand. He tucked my arm back through his, and from somewhere inside me, I found the courage to give his hand a squeeze. He laced his fingers through mine and squeezed back.
We were halfway across the gym when he stopped and leaned down. A single word caressed my cheek.
“Thanks,” he said.
A wave of dizziness swept over me. “For what?” I managed.
“Just…thanks.”
Five minutes after the pep rally ended, Moni tackled me from behind.
“Did he kiss you?” she demanded.
“Did who do what?”
“When you and Jack were walking across the gym,” Moni said. “Did he kiss you?”
I stole a look over my shoulder. Jack and the rest of the basketball team still stood beside the doors. The cheerleaders swarmed around them. With all the squealing, there was no way Jack could hear Moni. Or so I hoped.
“Are you crazy?” I said. “Of course not.”
“Sure looked like it to me.”
“He was just…he was just”—I touched my cheek—“saying thanks.”
“Whoa. If that’s thanks, I’d love to see how he says you’re welcome.”
“Did it really—”
“Look like a kiss? Oh, yeah.” Moni nodded toward the gauntlet girls. “They thought so too.”
I turned and caught Jack looking at Moni and me. Or maybe just me. Then Chantal Simmons curtsied low in front of him and said, “Your Highness,” and he turned away.
That snapped me back to reality. In the real world, Chantal was the cheerleader. Chantal was Jack’s proper escort. Me? I belonged in the stands, wedged between Moni, Todd, and the rest of the geeks. But thanks to zero tolerance, we were clearly not in Kansas anymore.
Students streamed from the gymnasium, heading for an abbreviated class before lunch. Moni and I fought the crowd and recovered our books. By the time we made it back to the lobby, Jack and the rest of the basketball team had vanished. And so had Chantal. But really, she had just moved several feet across the lobby and was now standing at her spot in the gauntlet.
“Do we go for it?” I whispered to Moni.
“Hey, Jack Paulson just kissed you in front of the entire school,” Moni said. “We can do anything we want.”
She was right. No one spoke to us—or at us—as we entered the danger zone. At the halfway point, I started to think I could get used to this gauntlet-crossing thing. No more running through the freshman hall to get to German on time. No more climbing the stairs to the balcony or huddling behind tallish jocks to get to the cafeteria. We were almost all the way through when I took my first deep breath since the pep rally. A locker door slammed behind us and shook the air.
“Uh-oh,” Moni sang, and nodded her head in Chantal’s direction. “I think someone’s a wee bit upset with us.” She turned and walked a few steps backward.
“Careful,” I said. “We’re not out of range.”
“Have no fear, Super Brain is here.” Moni whipped out her calculator, holding it up like a shield.
“What are you going to do, daze her with denominators?”
“Hey, chill. She might hear you,” I said. “Anyway, we don’t want to stoop to their level.”
Moni swung around and tossed her hair. “You are so right.”
Besides, I knew Chantal, knew her from what seemed like a lifetime ago. We shared more than a crush on Jack Paulson. And despite what Moni might believe, a pair of pom-poms didn’t change everything. They couldn’t even begin to reach across the chasm that had opened between Chantal and me. But with the whole school buzzing, and everyone doing double takes when I walked by, it didn’t matter. Much.
Chalk one up for cheerleading.
If the jazz band played “I’m Too Sexy” one more time, I was going to stomp over to the horn section and stuff my pom-poms down the first instrument I saw. From my vantage point on the sidelines it would be Brian’s trombone. He’d been grinning at Moni all night—at least when his mouth wasn’t otherwise engaged.
During the game she’d cast him a few smiles, but otherwise played it cool. I kept forgetting to ask if Brian had come to his senses—if he’d given Moni back the virtual wand. More likely Todd was still using the Dark Side of the Force to control Brian’s actions.
I stepped in a slow circle, doing a pom-pom shake and Sheila’s patented hip thrust. When the band played, we were supposed to dance—no matter what the song selection. According to Sheila, it gave the crowd something to look at.
Todd sulked with the members of the debate team on one end of the bleachers, while Chantal held court on the other.
Oh, yeah. The crowd was riveted. Moni glanced at me and crossed her eyes.
My legs trembled. My voice was hoarse. I’d lost five pounds in sweat since the game started, five pounds that had magically transferred to my pom-poms. Who knew fringe could be so heavy?
And it wasn’t even halftime.
If the sweat and the song were bad, having my back to the basketball court was worse. More than once, I turned to watch the game and track Jack’s progress up and down the court. Moni would nudge me when one of the senior cheerleaders threw us a dirty look. Someone had to follow the game, didn’t they? It was idiotic to cheer, “Shoot. Shoot. Shoot that ball for two!” when our team was on defense.
The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading Page 7
