by Zoe Evans
“The Titans have a favor to ask,” she said, without apology. “I’m assuming you’re kind of like the co-captain, right?” She smacked her perfectly lip—glossed lips together and tapped her foot as she waited for my answer.
“Well, y-yes,” I stammered. I have enough good sense to know not to bring up Jacqui’s name to Katie Parker.
“Good. So, here’s our problem,” she said, widening her eyes. “The Titans have a competition the same day as the next soccer game. And there’s no way we can leave the guys without a cheer squad. Our school would look like total losers.” She said the word “loser” like she had just vomited a little in her mouth.
Clementine and Hilary nodded grimly behind her.
“Ok . . . ,” I said, starting to get the picture but still not quite believing my ears.
“We know the Grizzlies still need a lot of work. But maybe you can put something together that you know the team can do easily?”
I waited a few beats to process this. Katie Parker wanted MY team to take over the Titans’ place and cheer on the boys’ soccer team? As in, an ACTUAL sports team? Not the debate team, the chess club, the Irish club, or any of those other sports that people don’t really come out to watch? One in which “headgear” means a protective helmet worn to prevent a sports injury, not an orthodontic appliance? How about . . . YES, PLEASE!!!
“Absolutely! We’d love to!” I squeaked. I couldn’t contain my excitement, and I didn’t really care. This will be our moment to really show everyone what we’re made of. And we’ve improved a lot lately—especially with Jacqui on the team and Mom as coach.
“Cool,” said Katie, looking back at her friends. “Then it’s a deal. Just make sure you don’t mess this up for us. Even though you’re the Grizzlies, if you’re cheering in our place, you’re representing the Titans. Remember that,” she said, before spinning on her pink Cons and walking away. As if on cue, Hilary and Clementine waited a beat before making an about—face and following on her heels. Their little cheerleader skirts bounced from side to side in synchronicity, causing a minor traffic collision of guys in the hallway. Boys. Such animals.
As for me, I am floating as I write this. I can’t wait to tell the team! They are going to flip out. Tabitha Sue will surely scream in another range that possibly only dogs will hear. Katarina will yell with joy in her mother tongue, and Jared will probably perform an impromptu performance from Rock of Ages (not like he ever needs a reason). And Mom, well, Mom is probably going to design some kind of cheer boot camp to whip us into high gear for our first REAL game of the season. Let the fun times begin.
And you know what else? The soccer game will be the perfect time to reveal to the world the Grizzly Bears’ new and improved uniforms. Awesome!
Wait! Soccer. Soccer. . . . I know someone who plays on the soccer team, and his name starts with a B. Great, now I think I might throw up. What if Bevan thinks we suck? I mean, we do kind of suck, so I guess that’s not a shocker. But what if he thinks I suck? I’m not sure if I’m excited about this whole thing now or dreading this. But I guess I don’t have time to ponder it too much at the moment, because the bell just rang. It’s time for that pop quiz!
Ok, so practice was a little mixed. The good: Everyone went crazy wild when I told them about the soccer game that we’d be cheering for. At first people thought I was pulling a fast one, but I had to convince them that nope, this was for realzzz!
“Madison, if you’re messing with us, you’re going to pay big-time,” said Jared. He had one finger pointed at me, and his eyes were all squinty. He was serious.
“Or what, Jared?” asked Tabitha Sue. “You’re gonna make her listen to your imitation of Justin Bieber’s ‘Favorite Girl’?”
Jared glared at her.
“I swear, I’m telling the truth. We are definitely cheering in place of the Titans at the next soccer game. I swear on our ugly uniforms, even.” I made a solemn face and put my hand over the tiny rip on my right shoulder.
“She must be seriousness,” said Katarina, pointing to me.
“Holy Mother of Cheer,” said Jared. “It’s true!”
And then everybody screamed and hugged for, like, five minutes.
The bad: When Mom heard the Big News, she got this wild look in her eyes that said “Crazy Coach Carolyn mode,” and I heard her mention something to Ms. Burger about how she might need an office so she could come in during the day to plan formations in advance of practice and stuff. Hello? Crazyville? I know she wants to kick our butts extra hard to get us in gear for the game, but seriously, an office is really taking it to another level. What would she be doing in there all day? Researching new ways to torture us?
It’s one thing to have your mom on school grounds for practice and stuff. That’s bad enough. It’s another for your mom to be there DURING school hours. Like, what would it be like to walk down the halls and see Mom by the water fountain? I really hope that this is either a passing whim of hers or that there isn’t another office available for her to use. I’m going to have to talk to her. Oh, dread.
The team love love LOVED my uniform sketches, though, so that put the day back on track. Jared was a little upset that the uniforms don’t include any glitter or rhinestones, but I had to explain that there’s nothing glittery about Grizzlies.
Jacqui volunteered to submit the designs and order form to the uniform—making company, because she used to be in charge of that stuff for the Titans and knows her way around the Website. Nice!
After practice, Jacqui and I hung around as usual to practice some more advanced cheer stuff. I’ve almost got my scorpion down perfectly now, and today she taught me how to get my legs perfectly straight in my heel stretch to bow and arrow.
“Hey, Jacqui, before we put the order through for the uniforms, maybe we should go to a fabric store and select exact color swatches so we can give the company references?” I asked her as we packed up for the night.
“Oh, yeah, I totally didn’t think of that!” she said. “Good idea.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’m babysitting early in the morning, but I’ll be free at noon. Let’s meet at Sew What at, like, twelve fifteen?”
“Awesome, it’s a plan,” I told her.
If there’s anything I love as much as cheerleading, it’s fashion design. And I A-D-O-R-E going to craft stores. I have a secret obsession with the fabric and pattern department, of course. Every time I touch a new piece of supersoft cotton or a fab swatch of denim, I am immediately filled with a dozen ideas of what I could transform it into. If only I had, like, twelve more hours in the day . . . which is why I’m so happy I can at least sketch all my ideas down even if I can’t actually make all of them. It will be COMPLETELY RAD to see one of my ideas—this new uniform—made into something my teammates and I are going to wear for everyone at school to see! Woo hoo!!
AFTER DINNER, MY ROOM
Back at home, during dinner, I asked Mom if she was really serious about getting an office at school. She looked down at her plate of grilled chicken and steamed broccoli (T.G. I’d snuck in some Doritos earlier or I’d be staaarving) and chewed thoughtfully. (Note to self: Mom doesn’t seem to have that pesky spitting-out-food-when-caught-by-surprise problem. I must have gotten it from Dad.)
“I thought it would be a good way for me to become a serious part of the squad,” she said. “This way, I can interact more with the kids on the team and connect with them during the day. Like the other coaches at school.” She paused and looked at me, her fork poised mid-bite. “Why? Do you not like the idea?”
I didn’t really know how to tell her that my reason for not wanting her to have an office isn’t really about her connecting with the team at all. I know it is selfish of me to just want to be left alone during the day. So I tried to just reason with her.
“But Mom, most coaches have offices because they’re part of the faculty anyway. It’s not so they can connect with students.”
“I
know,” she said. “But that’s what gives me—and the Grizzlies—a disadvantage. And I think the Grizzlies have enough disadvantages as it is.”
Ok, so she has a point. Anything to help the Grizzlies usually is a good idea.
But what about me? Can’t Mom see my side? How would she have felt at my age if her mom had wanted to help coach her cheer squad and be at school all the time? Oh. Right. She was a Titan. She never would have been in this situation at my age. She was born a winner and has never known, even for a second, what it’s like to cheer on the losing squad.
Ok, so Lanie isn’t doing jumping jacks over the fact that Jacqui and I have been hanging out together. Should I have expected her to, though? She was kind of weirded out by the whole Jacqui thing from the start.
“We’re just going into town,” I said into the speaker of my iPhone. I was in my room, still trying to decide between my thermal long—sleeved tee with the cherries on it and skinny jeans with ballet flats, or a flannel button—down and cutoff shorts with ankle boots. “We’re not, like, getting married. Besides, aren’t you busy taking tai chi or something this afternoon?”
“It’s Krav Maga,” said Lanie, haughtily. “For your information, it’s a hand-to-hand combat course. Way more intense than tai chi.”
“Well, whatever,” I said. “You’re too busy to help me pick the perfect color for our new uniforms anyway. But if you were free, I would have loved for you to come.” It was the truth. Anytime Lanie is down to go to a regular store is a miracle as far as I’m concerned. But I wasn’t sure Lanes and Jacqui would have gotten along so great, what with Lanes’s attitude and Jacqui being all, well, Jacqui. Oh, and Lanie’s latest thing is that Jacqui is using the Grizzlies to get back at the Titans in this Uma Thurman in Kill Bill way.
“Just be careful with that girl. She’s got a nasty plan for each one of those cheerleaders, I swear. You’ll see. I’ve seen the look in her eye at practice. Why do you think I hang out on the bleachers after school? I’m here for you, Mads.”
“Lanie, that’s sweet. But you need to get out more.”
“I do get out, Madison Hays. I am learning the Israeli art of hand-to-hand combat.” Lanie sighed. “Fine, go on. Buy fabric swatches, but I want you to text me as soon as you’re back and show me what you picked out. I’m not used to being the Other Woman,” she said dramatically.
“Ok, Lanes,” I giggled.
When I got to the entrance of Sew What, Jacqui was there holding a Starbucks venti chai. She looked like she’d even dressed up a little for our outing. At school she’s usually more laid—back in her own tomboy style-which is unusual for a Titan. By code, the whole squad pretty much looks perfectly primped and girlie all the time. They wear the latest trends as dictated by Teen Vogue, their hair always looks like it’s never heard the word “frizz,” and a lack of lip gloss is equal to a fashion emergency. Jacqui, however, never really seemed to get down with the rest of the squad on the primping and fashion front. Surprisingly, the Triumvirate didn’t make a big deal about it. (Or, at least, I’d never heard that it was a problem.) But today she was wearing whitewashed ripped jeans with a vintage—looking belt and a fitted paisley blouse. Her dark curls hung in loose waves around her shoulders.
“Hey, did you get dressed up just for the grannies at Sew What?” I asked when I got closer.
“Ha-ha,” she muttered, kicking me with her ultracute pair of clogs. “I like to put in a little effort on weekends, ok? Everyone at school kind of sucks, but you never know who you might meet around town,” she said coyly, taking a sip of her chai.
“Very true,” I said, silently congratulating myself on choosing my flannel-and-shorts ensemble. This seemed just the right look next to Jacqui’s outfit.
It was funny, I was actually a little nervous about us hanging out. I’d gotten so used to being with Jacqui at practice and stuff, but we’d never, like, chilled outside of cheer before today.
The fabric store was pretty crowded for Saturday at noon. We had to fight our way through a throng of old ladies arguing with a frazzled—looking salesperson over the price of a bolt of Christmas fabric for their annual Christmas quilt-off. One of the elderly women—the leader of the group—was holding open the local paper to the salesperson’s face to show where she had circled the 10% off coupon in bright red marker.
“Young lady,” said the group’s leader, using her walker to get up even closer to the salesperson. “I’ve been coming to this store for forty years. And every year, we get the same discount on the holiday fabric. What makes you think this year is any different?”
“I understand, ma’am,” said the salesperson, her voice shaking a little. I don’t think she expected her day at the Sew What to be quite so dramatic. “But as far as I know, the new policy says that the discount doesn’t apply to holiday fabrics.”
The elderly woman adjusted her glasses to the bridge of her nose so she could glare at the salesperson. “New policy. Oh, really? I don’t believe it says anything about a new policy anywhere on this here piece of paper,” she said, stabbing at the paper with her forefinger. “I can still read the fine print!”
The salesperson took the paper from her and took a long look at it. “Um. Uh. Hm.” She scratched her head. “You know, I think I will need to talk to my manager.” She darted away toward the back of the store.
“That’s a good girl,” said the woman, repositioning her glasses and putting her hands on her hips. She looked back at her now—adoring crowd, who smiled and gave her pats on the back.
“Wow, those ladies mean business,” said Jacqui under her breath.
“Remind you of anyone we know?” I asked as we continued down the aisle.
“Lemme guess. . . . Katie, Clementine, and Hilary: the Golden Years?” Jacqui laughed.
We found the apparel fabrics and located the reds, whites, and blues. It wasn’t easy finding the perfect red. Lots of reds had kind of an orange hue to them, and some even looked a little pink or a little purple. Finally, we found the perfect colors and purchased the smallest amount so we could tell the company that would make our uniforms exactly what we wanted them to use.
We decided that all our hard work deserved a little treat, so we grabbed some fro—yo up the street. It was actually nice, because we didn’t talk about cheerleading for a change. I found out that one of Jacqui’s other great loves in life is hip—hop dance. She’s been taking classes since she was five.
“I never would have pegged you for a hip—hop dancer,” I admitted.
“Yeah?” she said, taking a big lick of her peanut-butter-and-chocolate-swirl cone. “A lot of people say that.”
“I guess I don’t really know what a hip—hop dancer is supposed to look like. I suppose maybe they’d have to, like, swagger?”
“Oh, you mean like this?” said Jacqui, doing a bouncy walk down the sidewalk to a hip—hop beat and slouching her shoulders.
“I think you have to lose the ice—cream cone for that to be effective,” I told her.
“You might have a point,” she said, laughing.
We had a really good time the rest of the afternoon just walking around town and talking. By the time Mom picked me up, I couldn’t believe we’d spent so many hours together not doing anything cheer related. I didn’t really know Jacqui had a goofy side until today. It’s pretty cool. Of course, if I even suggest to Lanie that Jacqui’s cool and that we had so much fun today, she’ll probably just say I hallucinated the whole thing. Or she’ll get really mad. I think I’ll just keep this to myself for now.
What a totally CRAZY couple of weeks! I’ve barely had time to sleep, let alone write. . . . Well, the Grizzlies have our first real game tonight! We’re all supernervous getting ready to face the crowds. Jared even had a near panic attack.
“No crying in the boys’ locker room!” shouted Ian as he pushed Jared into the entrance to the girls’ locker room.
Ian and Matt aren’t exactly the nurturing types.
“You . . . guys . .
. I’m . . . freaking . . . out. . . .” wheezed Jared, completely unaware that there were half—naked girls all around him.
“Ohmigod, Jared, what’s wrong?” Tabitha Sue said, running over to him in a sports bra and shorts. She quickly launched into Nurse Tabitha Sue mode. “Quick, someone get a hot towel!”
“No!” Jared protested. “You’ll ruin my makeup!”
“Makeup?” we all asked, turning to look at him at the same time.
“Yes,” he said, patting his forehead delicately with the towel Tabitha Sue handed him. “It’s important for the crowds to be able to see one’s expressions from afar. Theater 101. Hello?”
Tabitha Sue, Jacqui, and I looked at one another and shrugged. We each shared a little of my Cherry Bomb lip gloss (which I totally heart), and I’m wearing my mascara from this morning. As usual, Katarina looks like she’s ready to walk the red carpet . . . like, at the circus. “I think our routine is what’s supposed to help us get noticed from afar, Jared,” I pointed out.
“We’re Grizzlies, Madison. We need every bit of help we can get,” said Jared.
“He’s right,” said Jacqui. “The Titans always get all dolled up before a game. When Titans get ready, there’s usually enough hairspray in these locker rooms to damage the ozone layer in one sitting. But we all have to be comfortable. To each her—or his-own, right?”
“Right!” everyone agreed enthusiastically. Jared still has on some blush, and Katarina has her “full face” on, as my Mom would say.
Even still, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe we should start putting a little more effort into getting ready for games. Especially for this one—the one that counts. I looked down at my chipped nail polish and my totes-in-need-of-a-pedi feet. But it’s a little too late now. The good news is that Jared has definitely started to calm down through lecturing us on our pregame makeup application. Sweet!
