by Kieran Scott
“All right! You’re done,” Autumn told Sage as she finished off the last braid.
“You look like Medusa,” Karianna told Sage, sticking her tongue through her teeth.
“Maybe. But when she takes it out, she’ll be all Jessica Simpson,” Jaimee put in. Sage gave a triumphant smile from behind her face mask and grabbed a handful of Doritos from a plastic bowl on the table.
“Jessica Simpson. Now there’s a rocker,” Ally joked, earning another rain of pillows.
“Who wants blue toenails?” Autumn announced, whipping out a bottle of glittery blue nail polish.
“I do!” about ten of us shouted, thrusting our hands into the air.
“One at a time,” Autumn said. “I’ll do Annisa first.”
I plopped down in front of her and offered up my bare toes. Autumn shook the polish up with a grin as the music switched over to some classic rock tune. Apparently Tara was in charge of the music in her own house and she had some seriously eclectic tastes.
“This is working,” Autumn said to me quietly. “Don’t you think it’s working?”
I looked around the room at all the giggling, happy, chatty faces. “Definitely,” I replied. “Look. Even Phoebe and Sage aren’t trying to kill each other.”
Over on the couch, Phoebe was inspecting Sage’s braids with a studious frown. Meanwhile, Sage stuffed enough Doritos into her mouth to feed a small island nation. Her fingers and lips were caked with cheese dust, making her look fairly freak-clownish with the green face and the hair. I had to hand it to her. She really didn’t care what she looked like—when there were no guys around.
“Nothing like a girls’-night-in to cure all woes,” Autumn said with a smile.
“You can say that again,” I replied.
Suddenly there was a slam, then a shriek, then the music died. I glanced at Autumn, wide-eyed. Were we under siege or something?
“Hey! Did someone say there was a slumber party going on tonight!?”
Oh no. No no no no no.
“Daniel?”
I turned around and sure enough, Daniel, Terrell, Joe, Steven and K. C. were all standing in the doorway to the family room in matching SDH sweats, toting sleeping bags and pillows. Apparently, we were under siege.
“Party-crashing time! Ready? Okay!” Terrell announced, thrusting his hands on his hips and cracking himself up. He whipped out his cell phone and started snapping pictures, starting with Sage’s scary self. “Oh, man. The guys are gonna love these!” he said as the flash popped.
“Nooooo!” Sage wailed, diving for her sleeping bag.
“Omigod! Omigod, omigod, omigod,” Jaimee cried.
Suddenly girls were running everywhere, grabbing throw pillows to hide their green faces from Terrell’s camera. A few closest to the door raced for the bathroom. Felice threw a sweatshirt on over her skimpy nightgown and Kimberly wrapped herself in a blanket to hide her tank and short-shorts.
“What’re you guys doing here?” I asked, standing up.
“Crashing the party!” Steven said matter-of-factly. “Was that not clear?”
Daniel took one look at me and cracked up laughing. “Nice look you got there, babe,” he said.
Terrell laughed and snapped my picture. My hands flew to the green crust on my face. Suddenly I recalled that my short hair had been pulled back from my forehead in a pink Hello Kitty rubber band and was sticking straight up like a fountain. I looked down at my red flannel nightshirt and half-painted nails and pretty much wanted to die. I half expected my overheated skin to start melting the face mask off in grody clumps.
“Where are you sending those?” I asked Terrell, mortified.
“Oh, just to the entire football, wrestling, basketball and track teams,” Terrell said, then looked at Daniel. “Did I leave anyone out?”
“Not that I can think of, no,” Daniel replied with mock seriousness.
This was just perfect. First my nearly bare butt appears on the front page of the school newspaper during my first month here, now every guy in Sand Dune was going to have a shot of my freaky green face. Of course the only guy I really cared about seeing me look disgusting was standing right in front of me. How badly did this suck?
“You! All of you! Out!” Tara said, storming over to the guys.
But Terrell and Joe had already infiltrated the room. Terrell was busy trying to drag a shrieking Sage out of her sleeping bag by her waist while Joe was flirting with Karianna, one of the few face-mask-less people, over by the door to Mr. Timothy’s home office. Daniel and K.C. walked around the couch and sat down next to Kimberly, who drew her legs in and curled into the corner under her blanket like she was afraid they might give her cooties. Daniel grabbed a handful of chips and munched on them happily. K.C. put his feet up and spread his arms out across the back of the couch.
Did the mayhem all around them not filter through to their guy brains?
“This is my house and you were not invited,” Tara told Daniel.
“Come on, Tara. This is a squad slumber party,” Daniel said with a smirk, popping a chip into his mouth. “I’m on the squad, too.”
“Right. And who died and made K.C. a cheerleader?” I said. “No offense,” I added to K.C.
“None taken,” he replied with a casual smile.
“Well, we just came from his wrestling match, where he recorded his eighth win of the season,” Daniel said. “Still undefeated.”
“Yeah, baby!” Terrell shouted as Daniel and K.C. slapped hands.
“So we thought he deserved a party,” Daniel said. “Especially since only four cheerleaders showed up to support him. And who were those four cheerleaders?” he asked.
“We were!” Terrell, Steven and Joe chorused from around the room.
“Exactly,” Daniel said. “Now, where can I get one of those super-cool face masks you’re all wearing?”
Steven laughed and Terrell gave up on Sage long enough to slap Daniel’s hand. Daniel just grinned all cockily, caught up in the triumph of the moment. Like he was so cool. God, testosterone was noxious sometimes. I mean, how could Daniel do this? He knew how important this was to the girls on the squad. To me. How could he ruin it like this?
“Hey! What’re you doing? Karianna!” Lindsey shouted.
We all turned around just in time to see Joe and Karianna slipping into Mr. Timothy’s office and closing the door behind them. Lindsey gave chase, but she got there just a second too late and the door slammed in her face. We heard a giggle and a click and Lindsey’s face crumbled.
“Oh no you’re not!” she shouted. She pounded on the door with the heel of her hand. “Karianna! Get out here! Get out here right now!”
“This is not happening,” Tara said, her shoulders slumping. Upstairs we could hear several girls all jockeying for the bathroom so they could wash off their faces. Shira struggled to shove her embarrassingly juvenile sleeping bag under the couch and a few other girls huddled in the kitchen, throwing on more clothes.
“Karianna! If you don’t come out of there right now, that’s it! We are no longer friends!” Lindsey announced, near tears.
Wow. She must have really liked Joe. Why, I had no idea. The guy never spoke except to tell us the things that he didn’t do. If there was a senior class award for Biggest Lack of Personality, he would win it in a landslide.
“Okay. Fine!” Lindsey shouted. She turned around, gathered her things up in her arms and stormed out, face mask and all. Her pink sleeping bag trailed behind her and she tripped over it on her way to the front door, losing one of her fuzzy slippers in the process.
“Lindsey! Don’t!” Tara called after her.
Lindsey picked up the slipper and two seconds later the door slammed. Hard.
“What is wrong with you guys?” I demanded. “Do you have to ruin everything?”
“Ruin? Actually, I think we just busted up a seriously lame party,” Terrell said, stepping over to stand next to the couch and his cohorts. He crossed his arms over his chest all
manly-like. As if there was no way I could contradict him.
“Maybe it’s lame to you guys, but it’s not lame to us! We were having fun! And now Lindsey’s gone and you made her cry and you’re sending awful pictures of everyone all over the place and half the squad is upstairs freaking out,” I said. “Why couldn’t you just leave us alone for one night?”
“Dude. I had no idea your girlfriend was such a buzzkill,” Terrell said to Daniel.
I wanted to smack him, Susan Lucci style. I waited for Daniel to defend me, but much to my horror, he smirked.
He actually smirked.
“What’s the big deal, Jersey? We’re just having a little fun,” he said, lifting his shoulders. “Remember fun? You used to know how to have it.”
The guys all snickered. Daniel might as well have punched me in the stomach. With a wrecking ball. He was mocking me in front of everyone. When I was already upset. He didn’t understand anything. He didn’t even realize he’d done anything wrong. Even though half the squad was either hiding or had already bailed, he thought this whole thing was totally funny. And he thought it was just fine to pick on me in the middle of it all.
“I have to go,” I said, turning around to grab my overnight bag.
“Annisa, I was just kidding,” Daniel said cajolingly. “Stay.”
Like it could be taken back that easily. He reached for my hand, but I pulled away. I turned and looked him dead in the eye. “I don’t really see any good reason to.”
His face fell and Terrell let out a surprised “Oh!” Like “Burn!” Daniel looked at me like I had completely betrayed him.
Yeah, I thought. See how it feels.
Then I got out of there before the shoulder angel and devil could chime in. I had a feeling that, very soon, they would both have a lot to say.
The rest of the weekend was agony. I kept waiting for Daniel to call and break up with me, so every time the phone rang, I nearly peed in my pants. Plus, there were moments—moments when I replayed his little “Remember fun?” line in my head—that I wanted to break up with him. I mean, who talks to his girlfriend like that? Where did this sudden mean streak come from?
But then I’d remember all the amazing things he did for me when I first moved to Sand Dune, our first date, our first kiss, that incredible Christmas gift, the I-love-yous, and I’d cave all over again. I spent almost all day Sunday alone in my room, listening to music, taking the bracelet he’d given me on and off and going schizo.
I love him, I hate him, I love him, I hate him, I love him, I hate him.
It was all so exhausting that I fell asleep at eight o’clock. I didn’t even get to see what happened in the Sunday night NFL playoff game. I had to watch the crappy highlights on SportsCenter that morning. Just not the same.
I had no idea what to hope for when I walked out of my house on an unbearably sunny Monday morning, but as angry as I still was, I was disappointed when he wasn’t waiting for me. I trudged my way to school and when I saw Daniel in the hallway, my heart pretty much stopped beating. Then it died when he took one look at me and walked the other way.
Well. Apparently we knew where he stood.
Every second of the day I kept waiting for him to tap me on the shoulder and tell me in no uncertain terms that it was over. What would I do? Would I tell him that was fine by me? Would I break down in tears? Would I flip out on him? Any option was possible at any given moment.
My teachers could have been speaking in Greek. Backward. With pig latin overtones. And I wouldn’t have even noticed. It was a total waste of a day.
And then came practice.
We sat on the bleachers in complete silence. I could feel Daniel’s eyes burning holes in the back of my T-shirt.
Just break up with me already! I wanted to scream. Get it over with!
But I didn’t. And he didn’t. We just sat there. I glanced at Chandra and she rolled her eyes and blew out a big sigh. Yeah, we all felt it. This was going to be an interesting afternoon.
The moment Coach Holmes stepped into the gym, she paused. Probably could smell the acrid scent of hatred in the air. Then she strode over to us, all determination, and set the props box down, as always, on the floor in front of us. Like anyone was going to be writing down anything positive today.
“What happened now?” she asked, hands on hips.
I heard a collective intake of breath, but then Holmes lifted a hand, thinking the better of her question.
“On second thought, I don’t want to know,” she said, waving us off. “Normally I’d never suggest this so early in the game, but this has already been the longest season of my life, so I’m gonna do it. Let’s open the props box.”
I squirmed in my seat and a bunch of the other girls did the same. I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or a bad one. I had only put a couple of comments in the box over the past few weeks. There couldn’t possibly be enough happy thoughts in there to cure the ills of this squad. I wasn’t even sure the props box could do that if it was overflowing with cheer.
“Come on! It might do you some good to hear the positive things you have to say about each other,” Coach said hopefully. “Tara? Want to do the honors?”
With a huff and a dubious sigh, Tara pushed herself up from her seat. She lifted the props box and placed it on the bottom bleacher. Slowly, she detached the tape from around the lid and started to open the box.
“Uh, Coach?” Daniel said, causing my pulse to go berserk.
“Yes, Healy?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”
Every cell in my body sizzled. What was he going to say?
Daniel cleared his throat. “Um . . . no,” he said finally, though he sounded miserable. “Nothing.”
My brow knit together and I automatically turned around to look at him. Even if he did hate me. Even if I maybe did hate him. I had to know. What was that all about?
Daniel looked back at me, his eyes sad. I had never seen his eyes so sad. Then he rolled them up, shook his head and leaned back. He was telling me there was nothing he could do. But about what? What?
My heart pounding uneasily, I returned my attention to Tara. I could tell that the props box wasn’t nearly as full as it had been the last time we’d opened it—the time that half the comments had suggested I dye my hair blonde for uniformity and my head had spontaneously combusted. All I could do was hope that there was a lot more positivity in there this time around.
Tara lifted out a piece of purple paper. She opened it slowly and read, “’I’m totally psyched to stunt with the guys! We’re going to be unstoppable.’ ” Her voice couldn’t have been more flat if it were a popped tire.
Coach Holmes nodded proudly. No one else moved. Whoever had written that had written it before they knew what this season would really be like.
Tara plucked out another piece of paper. “’Props to the guys for their bravery! You deserve to be Mighty Fighting Crabs!’ ”
Yeah. That one was mine. I had written it after Daniel’s confrontation with his brother in the hallway. Figured it would make us both feel better.
Behind me, Daniel sighed. I thought I heard Joe swear.
What was wrong with them? They were getting all the props and acting like it was their funeral.
