by Kieran Scott
“Now those I think we should vote on,” Terrell said, lifting a finger.
We all muttered our agreement. After all, Daniel had turned out to be a marketing genius. Maybe he had a few more tricks up his sleeve.
“All right, all right,” Tara said, raising her hands. “We’ll vote on the fundraisers.”
“And you’ll invite us to your next slumber party?” Steven asked.
“Uh, no,” Tara said. “But maybe we’ll figure out an activity we can all go to together.”
“Toga?” Daniel suggested.
“Strip poker?” Joe put in.
Chandra narrowed her eyes. “You dudes better quit while you’re ahead.”
Daniel glanced at the fan buses, which were already packed with people and waiting for us by the curb.
“How about we start with Dolly’s?” he suggested, slipping his hand into mine. “We all have our cars back at the school. We can caravan from there.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” I said. “Everybody in?”
And for once, we all agreed on something.
18
On Monday morning we all arrived at school early and were gathered outside the door to the main office. I had even dressed up for the occasion, wearing a black skirt and the light blue V-neck sweater my mother had given me for Christmas. Apparently everyone else had had the same idea. The guys wore button-downs and pants instead of jeans and sweats and the girls had all cleaned up quite nicely.
“Now remember, Terrell and I are going to do the talking, all right?” Tara whispered, her hand on the doorknob.
Everyone nodded. I felt like we were a bunch of little kids looking up at our kindergarten teacher in awe. I couldn’t believe Tara and Terrell had the guts to do this. But when it came to bravery in the face of authority figures, those two had more than cornered the market.
“Okay, here goes nothing,” Terrell said. Tara pushed open the door and we all followed our two fearless leaders into the office.
Betty, the head secretary, looked up from her computer in surprise. Behind her, the phones rang off the hook and her two assistants scurried around, jotting down the names of the kids that were being called in sick and checking the attendance records.
“What’s all this?” Betty asked.
“We’d like to talk to Principal Bu—” Tara began, then bit her tongue.
I glanced at Chandra and tried not to laugh. Buzzkill was not, in fact, his real name.
“We’d like to talk to the principal,” Terrell said helpfully.
Betty looked intrigued. I bet no one loved a good piece of gossip better than the school secretaries. They knew everything that went on around this place.
“And what is this regarding?” she asked, reaching for her intercom button.
“An apology,” Tara said, clearing her throat.
Betty frowned and hit the button. “Sir? The cheerleading squad is here to see you.”
There was a moment of relative silence as the intercom hummed. “The whole squad?”
Betty hoisted herself out of her chair to see better over the high counter and counted us up quickly, her lips moving as she went. “Yes, sir,” she said.
“Send them in.”
“Go right ahead,” Betty said.
Tara strode over, head held high, and opened the door. Principal Buzzkill was just standing up and fastening the button on his suit jacket as she did so.
“Well, come right in, Miss Timothy,” he said.
We all crowded into the tiny office together, sardining ourselves in shoulder to shoulder in order to fit. Principal Buzzkill just barely hid a smile of amusement at our discomfort. He cleared his throat and arranged his features into a frown.
“We’re sorry, sir,” Terrell said respectfully, at the head of the crowd with Tara. “We’re just a little bit excited.”
I glanced at Daniel, impressed.
“Kid’s good,” he whispered with a shrug. Then he lifted his arm to put it behind me and give us both more room. Surreptitiously he placed his hand on my back and I smiled.
“Excited?” The principal was nonplussed. “I’d think you’d be more chagrined, considering we’ve finally decided upon your punishment for last week’s debacle.”
Oh, God. We were too late.
“We’re here to ask you to forgo that punishment,” Tara chimed in.
His eyebrows shot up. “Are you?”
“Yes. We are. We know what we did was wrong and we’re here to ask you for a chance to make it up to you,” Tara said.
“And to the school,” Terrell added.
The principal looked us all over as if trying to decide whether this was some kind of practical joke. Not that I could blame him. We were, after all, renowned for that kind of thing.
“And how do you propose to do that?” he asked finally.
“We want to hold another pep rally,” Tara told him. “This Friday.”
“We think it would be good to erase the memory of the last one as quickly as possible,” Terrell added.
“And you really think you can do that,” Principal Buzzkill said.
“If we put together a really kickass—” Terrell stopped under a stern look from the principal and shifted his feet. “I mean, a really awesome program,” he amended. “Sir.”
The principal took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. “So . . . let me get this straight. You want me to not punish you and instead you want me to let you throw another pep rally, even though you completely ruined the last one. You want me to let eight hundred students out of class early, again, and just trust that you won’t mess it up.”
Well, when you put it that way . . .
“Yes, sir. We do,” Tara said.
“And why should I do that?” he asked.
“Because we’re really sorry,” Jaimee piped in.
“And we love this school,” Phoebe added.
“And we won’t let you down again . . . sir,” Daniel said.
“If we do, you can give us four weeks of detention and make us clean all the bathrooms,” I announced.
There was a collective gasp in the room and everyone turned to glare at me. Oops.
“That’s the first sane idea I’ve heard all morning,” Principal Buzzkill said with a smile. “Annisa Gobrowski, you have a deal. You all can throw your pep rally, but if any of you is late, if any of you shows up without your uniform, if any of you has so much as one iota of attitude, you’re all in detention for four weeks.”
Oh man. Oh man, oh man, oh man.
“But I can’t make you clean the bathrooms,” he said. “I’ll have a union situation on my hands.”
We all stood there uncertainly as he sniffed and sat back down in his leather chair, unbuttoning his jacket once again. “You’re dismissed,” he said.
Slowly everyone turned and filed out. A half dozen hands smacked various parts of my body. My arms, my back, the back of my head.
“Well, what?” I said as we emerged into the hall. “We’re not gonna let him down, are we? I mean, that was the whole plan.”
“She has a point,” Chandra said.
“Thank you!” I replied, rubbing my arm where someone’s fingernail had left a mark. Daniel put his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. I leaned gratefully into his side.
“She does have a point,” Tara said with a nod. “Yeah. This is going to be the most kicka—I mean awesome pep rally ever!” she said, earning laughter all around. “All right. Hands in.”
We all did as we were told, right there in the center of the hallway, as students and teachers started to make their way to their classrooms and lockers all around us.
“On three,” Tara said. “One, two, three.”
“Whaddup, Sand Dune!”
We all threw our hands into the air and didn’t even care that everyone in the hallway was staring. The squad had officially jelled. And we were ready to kick a little awesome.
“Fighting Crabs up in the stands, let’s—hear yo
u—shout!
Fighting Crabs up in the stands, let’s—hear you—now!
All you fans, yell ‘Go!’ ”
“GO!”
Daniel and I executed a perfect chair sit as the entire student body shouted back at us. We cradled out and I grinned up at him before my feet hit the floor. This was working. This was working well. Not only was everyone psyched up for a pep rally that actually had spirit, but all day kids I didn’t even know had been coming up and thanking me for helping them get out of class once again. Bethany had actually fallen on her knees and kissed my feet when she heard. It was a win-win situation, really.
“All you fans, yell ‘Crabs!’ ”
“CRABS!”
Coach Holmes beamed at us from the bleachers. Even better, Coach Rincon was sitting next to her, their thighs touching. Daniel and Terrell had called him and begged him to come, saying he shouldn’t let us come between him and the love of his life. Coach Rincon had agreed, and right before the pep rally, he and Coach Holmes had had a long talk (apparently, like Daniel and me, lack of communication had been their problem as well), then kissed and made up. Not that I was spying or anything. Really.
This time Tara and Phoebe had done the dirty work and reported back.
As I went up in a double-base extension, Coach Rincon looked like a proud papa. Tara handed me the “Crabs” sign from the floor and I clutched it in both hands.
“GO!” we all shouted as Phoebe thrust her sign in the air.
“CRABS!”
I held my sign up above my head and saw Bethany snap a picture from the center of the crowd. Below me the guys’ arms were solid as rocks. They should have been after a week’s worth of extra practices and weight-room time. All week long everyone had rallied, staying even later after school to work out and coming in early to make signs and banners. Now it was finally paying off.
“GO!”
The crowd was so loud, there was going to be an outbreak of laryngitis.
“CRABS!”
I seriously thought I saw someone’s voice box pop out.
“GO!”
“CRABS!”
“LET’S GO, CRABS!”
The crowd went wild and I tossed the sign to the floor. There were Mindy and Whitney and Erin, cheering along with the rest of the girls’ basketball team. There was K.C., spinning a rally towel in the air at the tip-top of the bleachers, shouting at the top of his lungs. Even Christopher, Bobby and their friends were cheering. If that wasn’t a successful pep rally, I don’t know what was.
I cradled out, kissed Daniel in glee and thrust my hands into the air. In the corner of the gym, Principal Buzzkill applauded with the rest of the faculty. As we all looked, he flashed us a thumbs-up. No detention. No punishment. Nothing but bikini car washes and coed sleepovers from here on out.
Just kidding.
But one thing was totally clear as we all hugged and ran off the court: the pride. Everyone from Tara to Phoebe to Joe to Steven was beaming with the stuff. After all, the All-New (and Improved) Sand Dune High School Fighting Crabs cheerleaders had finally come together to save ourselves and our season. That was something that any cheerleader, whether from Mars or from Venus, could be proud of.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
