A Non-Blonde Cheerleader in Love

by Kieran Scott

  “Wait! I’m having a crisis of conscience!” I said, stopping the door with my pom. It got a little crushed, but nothing unfixable.

  “And you came to me?” Bethany asked, then laughed. “Interesting choice.”

  She waved her hand to invite me in, then trudged through her gorgeous, high-ceilinged living room to the breakfast bar in the kitchen, where she was working on an overflowing bowl of chocolate Lucky Charms. Upstairs, hard rock music blared and heavy footsteps pounded around, shaking the chrome pots that hung from the rack above the center island. Her brother Bobby was definitely a big guy.

  “Want some?” she asked, shoving a spoonful into her mouth. Milk dribbled from the corners of her lips.

  “No, thanks. I’m good,” I said. “So, listen, the squad is planning on boycotting the pep rally today.”

  Bethany dropped her spoon. “Oh, come on!” she said, upset. “You guys are good for one thing—one thing—and you can’t even give me that!?”

  My forehead crinkled in confusion. “I thought you’d be happy. You once said that going to pep rallies was like sliding naked down a sandpaper waterslide into a vat of lemon juice.”

  Bethany smirked at her old joke, but then her face dropped. “Yeah, that was before it was getting me out of my oral report eighth period,” she said.

  “Oh. Well, don’t worry. We’re still gonna have a pep rally,” I said. “The idea is to make the guys go out there alone and try to cheer.”

  “Omigod, you’re kidding,” she said. “Whose idea was that? It’s brilliant!”

  “Sage’s,” I said morosely.

  Bethany grimaced. “Ugh. Why am I not surprised?” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and pushed away from the counter.

  “Wait! Where’re you going?” I asked.

  “To get my video camera,” she replied. “There’s no way I’m missing this.”

  I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Hello? Crisis of conscience, remember?”

  “Oh. Right,” Bethany said. She turned to me and fixed me with a studious expression. “Okay. Hit me.”

  “The question is whether or not I should warn Daniel,” I said.

  “No,” Bethany answered automatically. “Are we done here?”

  “No!” I cried, grabbing her arm as she turned to go again. “That’s it? Just no? You don’t even want to think about it?”

  “I don’t need to think about it,” Bethany said, throwing her hands up. “First of all, you and Daniel aren’t even talking and you don’t even know if he wants to go out with you anymore, right?”

  Wow. Hit a girl where it hurts, why don’t you? Of course this was exactly the argument I had been repeating to myself for the last two nights, so why did it still hurt?

  “Right . . . ,” I said slowly.

  “Second, if you warn him, he’s going to tell the other guys and then all the blah-rahs are going to be mad at you for foiling their devious little plan, right?” she said. “And Athena knows you don’t want that to happen, right?”

  “Right ...”

  “And third, if you tell him, I will miss out on what is quite possibly going to be the most hilarious piece of film ever to be caught on tape. Which, by the way, you cannot do to me,” she said. “So the question is, where exactly do your loyalties lie? With me—your bestest best friend—and your blah-rahs, or with a guy who may or may not want to break up with you?”

  The very fact that Bethany and the squad were on the same side in something was enough to make a girl’s head spin. But somehow, I managed to focus.

  “Well, when you put it that way,” I said, deflated.

  “Great!” Bethany replied, all smiles. “I’ll go get my camera and then Me-Bobby-You-Jane and I will drive you to school.”

  She turned and took the stairs two at a time. “Bobby! Quit flirting with yourself in the mirror and get down here!” she shouted as she went. “We have to get to school. This is going to be a very good day . . . ,” she sang.

  I plopped down on one of the breakfast bar stools and halfheartedly shook a couple of marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms box. Above my head the rock music died and I heard Bethany snickering to herself. Well, at least I’d made someone happy.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Are we really doing this?” Jaimee asked, clasping and unclasping her hands.

  “Yes. We’re actually doing this,” Chandra said, popping her gum as she filed her fingernails. “Chill out already.”

  “She’s right. You need to get more oxygen or you’re going to hyperventilate,” Autumn told her, standing up from the bench in the locker room. “Breathe with me. In . . . two . . . three. Out . . . two . . . three.”

  Jaimee did as she was told and I found myself breathing along with her. I was so nervous, I felt like I was about to be shoved out onstage for the school musical without a script. But in reality, I wasn’t about to do anything. All I was about to do was sit behind the scenes.

  And let Daniel, Steven, Joe and Terrell take the fall. Two of whom I liked very much. Or three of whom. Or one and a half of whom. It all depended on what mood I was in when you asked me.

  Down the hallway, someone opened the door to the gym to peek out. Instantly the din of hundreds of excited voices filled the locker room. My heart kicked it up another notch. The gym was already filling up. What was going to happen when the cheerleaders didn’t show up? Exactly how much trouble were we about to be in?

  The noise muted and Tara and Phoebe came scurrying into the room. “Coach Holmes is coming,” Tara said. “Everyone just stay calm.”

  We all snapped to attention. Even Chandra dropped the blasé act. Jaimee reached out and grabbed my hand as the door opened and closed and Coach Holmes finally strode into the room. Time stopped as she took us in. All eighteen of us, alternates included, standing there in our street clothes.

  “Where are your uniforms?” she asked. “You were wearing your uniforms when you came in here.”

  Everyone looked at Sage. Mastermind of our plan. It appeared she was trying to shrink herself down to Bratz size by sheer force of will. Figures. She could talk the talk, but apparently there would be no walking the walk.

  “Anyone going to tell me what’s going on here?” Coach asked. There was the vein again.

  Tara, bless her brave little soul, stepped forward. “We’re not going out there,” she said.

  “What!?” Coach Holmes blurted.

  “We think it’s about time the guys on the squad found out what it really means to be a cheerleader,” Tara said gamely. She wasn’t totally cucumber cool, though. Her dangly earring was shaking.

  “Tell me you’re kidding,” Coach said. She looked around at all of us. “Someone tell me you’re kidding.”

  There was no response. A few heads hung in shame. I, myself, was already staring at the laces on my black shoes.

  Don’t cave, the shoulder angel said. Or was it the devil?

  It was getting harder and harder to tell them apart. They deserve this. Don’t cave!

  “You think this is going to teach them what it means to be a cheerleader?” Coach asked. “Turning your back on your teammates?”

  A lump formed in the back of my throat. She had a point there. This wasn’t good sportsmanship. This wasn’t being part of a team or rising above anything. This was about plain vindictiveness.

  “You guys,” I said. “Maybe we should—”

  “No.” Sage finally spoke up. Probably solely to contradict me. “This was what we all agreed to do. We’re sticking to the plan.” She turned to Coach Holmes. “Sorry, Coach, but they need to be taught a lesson.”

  Coach Holmes stared back at Sage, her face set like a stone. For a long moment no one moved and I was fairly certain that Coach was going to demand that we all get our asses out there under penalty of death. Or at least under threat of being thrown off the squad.

  Finally, she shook her head. “I hope you girls know what you’re doing,” she said. Then she turned around and walked out.


  The entire squad let out a collective sigh of relief. Coach Holmes had not burst into a ball of flame and incinerated all of us and the entire known universe. The worst was over.

  Now all we had to do was wait.

  15

  Fifteen minutes later I was experiencing a full-on case of plotter’s remorse. I felt sick. Sick and mean and hot and guilty. All I wanted to do was go home and crawl into my bed and pull the covers up over my head. We could hear the confusion in the gym. The murmurs, the laughter. The guys must have been sitting out there on the bottom bleacher by now, alone in their uniforms, wondering where the heck we all were while everyone speculated and salivated. Everything had taken on a level of tension that no pep rally should ever convey. Every moment I kept waiting for the door to open and for Coach Holmes to storm back in and drag us out there. Or for Principal Buzzkill to pound on the door and threaten us with suspensions. But nothing happened, and soon enough, we all heard the president of the student council, senior and bleach blonde Dori Reisfeld, take the microphone.

  “Welcome, everyone, to the first winter pep rally of the season!” she shouted, earning a cheer from the crowd.

  I could imagine her out there in her blue SDH sweatshirt, her choppy hair sticking out in all directions, her hip-deep dimples widening with her smile. I wondered if she realized what was going on yet. If she would sound quite that chipper if she did.

  “Come on. We’re going out there,” Tara said.

  “We are?!” I asked, perking up considerably.

  “Not out there out there,” Tara said, rolling her eyes. “This way.”

  She waved at us to follow her and walked down the opposite hall to the door that led to the gym lobby. A couple of people exchanged wary glances, but everyone followed. I couldn’t believe this. They were actually going out there to watch? How sadistic were my teammates?

  “You coming?” Jaimee asked, hesitating near the end of the hallway.

  I looked around at the empty locker room and a skitter of fear shot through me. I didn’t want to be anywhere alone just then, just in case of, you know, angry mobs out for cheerleader blood. There was strength in numbers. I pushed myself up and we walked out together.

  The entire squad was already huddled around the six small windows set high in the wooden doors to the gym. I stepped up tentatively behind them, not at all sure I wanted to see any of this.

  “Look at Terrell’s face!” Tara hissed happily. “He looks like he soiled his pants.”

  Laughter all around. A couple of the girls even slapped hands. If the guys were where I imagined them to be, that meant that the girls had a full, panoramic view of the guys’ misery. I wondered what Daniel was feeling just then.

  Probably seething, murderous rage. Directed at me. Any second now I might be soiling my pants.

  “What’re we gonna do tonight?” Dori shouted.

  “Beat West Wind!” the crowd replied.

  “What?” she shouted.

  “Beat West Wind!” the cry came back, with some stomping and clapping added.

  “Say it again!?”

  “Beat West Wind!” The volume was overwhelming.

  “You know it!” Dori shouted into the microphone. “So now let’s get things started right!” she announced. “Without further delay, I present to you your mighty, fighting Sand Dune Crab cheerleaders!”

  The whole place went berserk and I found myself irrevocably drawn to the one tiny corner of window that was left. I shoved myself under Felice’s arm and closed my left eye to better see with my right. Inside the gym, the cheers were dying a slow death as Daniel, Terrell, Steven and Joe all got up and awkwardly made their way to the center of the floor.

  Dori put her hand over the microphone and whispered something to Coach Holmes. Coach shook her head. On the court, Daniel and Terrell argued under their breath. We couldn’t hear them from behind closed doors, but their body language was Desperate with a capital D.

  Coach Rincon, whom we hadn’t seen in days, pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed Coach Holmes’ hand. He said something in her ear and they started conversing, their heads bent together. They both looked seriously mad.

  “Do something!” I saw Daniel hiss.

  Terrell raised his hands in surrender, like Don’t look at me. I half expected him to display some of that roadrunner speed of his and bolt from the room, leaving a few scorch marks in the gym floor.

  A few of the girls around me giggled. I felt like crying.

  “Apparently Terrell isn’t such the fearless leader now,” Phoebe said.

  Everyone in the stands stared. The whispers grew louder and louder. Across the gym, Principal Buzzkill was on the move, making a beeline for our coaches. He was red with rage. Someone had to do something. Fast.

  Go in there, my shoulder angel prodded me. Go save them. But how? What was I supposed to do dressed in my street clothes and all alone? There was nothing.

  And then it happened. Daniel finally started clapping a steady beat, looking around uncertainly. “Go! Hey, here we go! Crabs! Go!” he shouted.

  One lonely voice.

  Steven hung his head, covering his eyes with both hands. Daniel backed up and whacked Steven’s arm with the back of his hand.

  “Go! Hey, here we go! Crabs! Go!” Daniel shouted again. He raised a fist in the air on “Go!” Everyone in the stands stared in silence.

  I found myself cheering him on silently. Yeah, you can do it! Get the crowd into it, Daniel. Come on!

  Terrell, meanwhile, shook his head. For a guy who pretty much oozed pride, this dude gave up way too easily.

  “Yeah, that’s right. No idea what to do with yourself without your stunting partner, huh?” Sage said.

  Some people were taking a little bit too much joy in their supposed friends’ misery.

  “Go! Hey, here we go! Crabs! Go!” Daniel shouted again. His voice cracked with nerves and a few people in the stands laughed. We were evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.

  “This is sick. I can’t watch this,” I said, pushing back through the crowd.

  “Me neither,” Autumn said, joining me.

  “We could really use that space-time continuum thing now, huh?” I asked her.

  “Definitely.”

  Suddenly everyone backed up. The doors were flung open and out stormed Coach Rincon. There were little flames where his pupils should have been, I swear. Coach Holmes was hot on his heels.

  “What the hell do you girls think you’re doing?” he said through his teeth. “How could you do this to your teammates?”

  “Leo!” Coach Holmes scolded, looking desperate.

  “Why are you doing this?” Rincon asked, shoving his hands under his biceps. “What did they do to you?”

  “Th-they crashed our slumber party,” Sage said timidly. “And then they—”

  “That? Big deal!” Rincon said with a scoff. “That was just a little harmless fun. Boys being boys.”

  “Wait a minute,” Coach Holmes said, approaching him. “You knew about this?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Knew about it? I told them to do it.”