Brunettes Strike Back

by Kieran Scott

  “Got it,” Erin said.

  “Karianna, check the gift shop,” I said. “Maybe Chandra needed a chocolate fix.”

  “I’m on it,” Karianna said.

  I grabbed my phone out of my bag and started dialing. Coach Holmes slapped me on the back. “Nice take-charge attitude, Gobrowski,” she said. “Good to have you back.”

  “Good to be back, Coach,” I said.

  Just then, there was a commotion over by the entrance and one of the squads sprang apart to let a fairly crazed-looking Tara Timothy through. Her hand was over her stomach and she was so waxy, she looked like she would melt under a match. She walked over to us slowly and dropped down on a bench. Stomach flu. Had to be. We needed an IV, stat.

  “Tara! Where have you been?” Whitney asked.

  “I lost my socks,” she said under her breath.

  “What?”

  Cancel the IV. She was just loony.

  “I lost my lucky socks!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide. “They’re gone! Just gone! I can’t go out there without my lucky socks!”

  Everyone exchanged disturbed glances. “Tara, calm down,” Whitney said, sitting next to her.

  “No! I need those socks!” Tara said through her teeth. “Everything depends on them. I’ve worn them every single day since regionals. If I go out there without them, we’re dead.”

  “Uh . . . Autumn?” I said. “Maybe you should go get some of your calming essential oils?”

  “Got ’em right here,” she said, pulling her bag toward her.

  “I need my socks. I don’t understand. Where are they?”

  Autumn held up a little bottle that smelled vaguely of lilac and put it under Tara’s nose. Tara slapped her hand away.

  “Well, where did you leave them last?” I asked her.

  “I left them right on the counter by the sink last night after I used my Dr. Scholl’s spray deodorant on them,” Tara said. “They were there when I went to bed. I just don’t get it.”

  My throat went totally dry and I looked at Mindy. The counter by the sink? Let’s forget about how totally gnarly it was that she would leave her jacked-up socks where we kept our toothbrushes. We could deal with that later. At the moment, we had bigger problems.

  “Uh . . . Tara?” I said, trying to swallow. “Did you by any chance leave them next to the hair-dye stuff?”

  Tara blinked. “I think so.”

  Mindy groaned and tipped her head back. Can you say nightmare? I knelt on the floor in front of Tara. I felt like I was kneeling in front of the executioner. Just make it quick, I thought. Use a sharp blade.

  “Tara, I hate to be the one to tell you this—believe me—but your socks are gone.”

  “What?” she blurted. If possible, she lost even more color. I had to act. Fast. If only to keep my captain out of a straitjacket.

  “But wait! I have something better!” I said, my heart pounding. I pulled Jordan’s Derek Jeter pen out of my bag and held it up to Tara. “See this pen? It’s been a powerful good-luck charm for me and my best friend for the past two years. I had it with me when we won at regionals. It’s never let me down. Not once,” I told her, feeling like I was talking to a little kid. “So here. I want you to have it.”

  Tara hesitated before taking the pen from my hands gingerly. She clutched it so hard, her knuckles turned white. “You’d really let me have this?” she asked.

  “I don’t need it,” I said confidently. “You’re my good-luck charm.”

  “Me?” Tara said, shocked.

  “Yeah, you,” I said, standing. “All you guys. We’re our own good-luck charm. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones who got us here, not lucky pens or socks or ribbons or anything else.”

  “Yeah!” a couple of the girls cheered.

  “So what do you say, Tara?” I asked. “Think you can go on without your socks?”

  Tara stared down at the pen in her hands, breathing heavily. For a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears and tell us all we were nuts. That she was going to forfeit. But when she looked up at me, that old spark was back in her eyes—the one she had the morning of regionals. The determined-to-win spark.

  “You’re right,” she said finally. She stood up and slapped the pen into my palm. “We don’t need this. All we need is each other.”

  “Yeah!”

  “This team kicks butt, right?” she said, earning another cheer. “We beat everyone else at regionals. We beat the West Wind Dolphins!”

  “Hell yeah!” Whitney cheered.

  “And now we’re going to go out there and bring this competition to its knees!”

  “Yeah!” We all clapped and cheered and hugged.

  “Let’s do it!” Tara shouted, getting herself all riled up.

  “Uh . . . there is still one small problem,” Phoebe said.

  “What’s that?” Tara asked, grinning.

  “We can’t find Chandra,” Phoebe replied.

  Jaimee, Erin, Karianna and Maureen all raced back into the room, out of breath. “She’s not in any of the bathrooms,” Erin said.

  “Or the gift shop,” Karianna put in.

  “Well, then where the hell is she?” Tara blurted.

  “Here I am!”

  We all turned around and sixteen jaws dropped in unison. Spotlights flicked on. A wind machine kicked into gear. Chandra strode into the room looking like a supermodel in cheer wear.

  Her hair was brown. A beautiful, rich chestnut brown. It hung in gorgeous, creamy curls all around her shoulders. It brought out the color of her eyes and made her skin look rosy and healthy. She was a goddess.

  “You look like a movie star,” Autumn said, breathless.

  “Is that your real color?” Sage asked, walking over to touch it.

  “Close to it,” Chandra said. “I made an appointment with the salon in the hotel for this morning. What do you think?” she asked, stepping over to me.

  “Oh my God,” I said. “It’s unbelievable. But you didn’t . . . I mean . . . did you do this for me?”

  “Oh, please!” Chandra said, tossing back her thick mane. “I did it for me. I was sick of being a lemming. And I was even sicker of you guys constantly telling me how fried I looked. If anything, Annisa, you were just my inspiration.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wanted to be me again,” Chandra said with a shrug. Then she grinned. “And part of the national champion cheerleading squad, of course!”

  Everyone cheered and hugged Chandra, touching her beautiful locks in wonder.

  “Well, I guess two brunettes are better than one,” Tara said, grabbing a brush out of her bag. “Come on. Let’s get you braided.”

  Chandra sat down on the bench and Whitney and Tara got to work brushing her hair back and braiding it so that it would be uniform with the rest of us. (Whitney and I just slicked ours back and secured it with as many bobby pins as possible.) Through all the flurry and hairspray, Chandra and I couldn’t stop grinning at each other. She had taken a huge risk and she looked gorgeous. As one brunette to another, I couldn’t have been more proud.

  22

  Before I knew it, we were standing on deck, waiting for the Black Bears to finish their routine. I tried not to listen to the gasps of awe or the rampant cheering coming from the crowd. Yeah, the Black Bears were good. We all knew that. But we were better.

  Hey, it’s good to have a little pre-competition ego on.

  Finally, the Black Bears finished and ran off the mats.

  “Okay, everyone! Hands in!” Tara shouted. The entire Black Bears team jostled by us, but we didn’t even notice. We gathered into a tight huddle and put our hands in the center, one on top of the other. “On three,” Tara said, looking around at each of us. “One! Two! Three!”

  “Whaddup, Sand Dune!” we all shouted, throwing our hands in the air.

  “And now, from Sand Dune, Florida, the Sand Dune High School Fighting Crabs!”

  I cheered my lungs out as we bounded out onto the mat. The San
d Dune fans had formed themselves into a cheering section at the bottom of the stands. A huge group of families, teachers and fans in light blue and yellow shook their mini-poms and jumped to their feet. My parents and Gabe were there with Bethany and Chuck. Daniel, Christopher, Bobby and Carlos were front and center with a ton of other football players who had joined them. I couldn’t have stopped grinning if I had tried.

  As the music started and I bounced up into my first toss, I realized how much things had changed since yesterday’s semis.

  This whole cheerleading thing was fun again.

  By the time I stuck my last back tuck, I knew. I knew we were giving the best performance of our lives. The crowd was getting more and more manic with every stunt, and when I was finally able to focus on my mom for five seconds, she looked like she was about to burst into tears of pride. Even Bethany and Chuck were getting into it.

  I slammed into my last high V and held it, trying to catch my breath and relishing the raucous reaction in the stands. We may as well have been reality TV stars on a mall tour. I swear I thought people were going to start throwing T-shirts for us to sign.

  I dismounted from the pyramid and cheered and hugged Mindy as we ran off. Backstage we were a mess of tears and high fives and laughter. It was all up to the judges now, but we all knew we couldn’t have done better.

  “Nice work, ladies!” Coach Holmes shouted, slapping five with Tara and Whitney. “Yeah! You nailed everything.”

  We whooped and cheered, feeling very pleased with ourselves. It was like walking on air, really. If I could package that feeling, I’d make some serious bling.

  “Sage! Sage!” I heard someone calling in all the din.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Christopher Healy weaving his way around the other squads. Hadn’t he been in the stands a minute ago? And what did he want with Sage?

  “Hey! How did you get back here?” Sage shouted, bounding across to meet him.

  Then, right in front of all of our gaping eyes, Christopher lifted Sage up off the ground and hit her with a seriously slobbery kiss. I swear if there hadn’t been a hundred cheerleaders and coaches watching, Sage would have wrapped her legs around him.

  “Omigod, what?” Phoebe blurted.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that her ex-boyfriend’s brother?” Chandra said, sticking her tongue between her teeth.

  “Isn’t that, like, incense?” Jaimee asked.

  Felice jumped in. “Actually, it’s—”

  Jaimee shot her a withering look.

  “Never mind!” Felice said, raising her hands in surrender.

  My mind, meanwhile, was slowly putting two and two together and finally, finally coming up with four. This was why Daniel’s home number had been on Sage’s cell phone. This was why she had gotten all giggly when someone had called her from the Healys’. It wasn’t Daniel on the other end of the phone, it was—gack—Christopher!

  “Feeling better?” Mindy asked me, draping her arm over my shoulder as Christopher and Sage leaned into the wall, never coming up for air.

  “So much,” I said. Then grimaced. “But also a little disturbed.”

  “Ew. I can’t watch this anymore,” Autumn said, covering her eyes and turning away.

  “My little sister, ladies and gentlemen!” Whitney announced with fake pride as Sage and Christopher nearly fell over in a lip-lock.

  “Come on, you guys,” Tara said, turning a few of us around. “Let’s get some water.”

  “Um, excuse me! Barnard! What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Coach Holmes asked, looking up from her scoring breakdown for the first time.

  We all laughed as we heard Sage mutter some lame apologies. My heart was as light as Marshmallow Fluff. I guess this was what Daniel had meant when he said Sage had her own stuff going on. Whatever. She could do what she wanted. All I cared about was that Daniel was really mine. Mine, all mine.

  You know those cartoons where the cat sees another cat and falls in love and his heart pounds all the way out of his chest like it’s on an elastic band? That’s what my heart was doing while we knelt on the mat, waiting for the final announcement. I swear, it was almost painful. If Gracie Beck didn’t get on with it in the next five minutes, we were going to have a couple dozen seriously premature heart attacks on our hands. I hoped the EMTs were ready.

  “Why the hell did they call us out here if they weren’t ready with the announcement?” Tara said through her teeth.

  “The judges look completely confused,” Whitney said. “Look at ’em!”

  We already were. The panel of judges was passing around papers and talking in low tones, looking as nervous as a bunch of kids on finals morning. Finally the guy on the end handed a card to Gracie Beck and she scanned the list, holding her microphone in the other hand.

  “Here it is . . . ,” Phoebe said, causing my heart to somehow kick it up a notch.

  “We don’t win, we demand a recount,” Tara said.

  Hundreds of pairs of eyes watched Gracie make her slow ascent to center stage, walking carefully on her stiletto heels. I held my breath and clutched Mindy’s hand on one side and Chandra’s on the other. I was perspiring like a pig, I had to pee and I was about to need the shock paddles. God, I just wanted it to be over. I took a little comfort knowing that, win or lose, in five minutes everything would go back to normal.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, as you have probably guessed, this decision was a tough one for our judges,” Gracie Beck said. “I’m sure, after seeing all of the incredible performances we’ve had here today, you can understand why. Let’s give all the squads a nice big hand for a job well done!”

  I was stunned by the decibel.

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get on with it already,” Tara muttered.

  Whitney must have elbowed her because a second later she let out an angry “Ow!”

  “We have only three prizes to give out today, but I think everyone here is a winner,” Gracie continued.

  More insane applause. I swear if she didn’t do this soon, I was going to pee on the floor.

  “So let’s get to it. Our third-place squad, and winner of a $1,000 donation to their school athletic department, is . . . the Holy Cross High School Angels from Topanga, California!”

  I released my friends’ hands long enough to clap politely for the Angels. They went absolutely wild as they ran out and grabbed the smallest of three trophies and posed quickly with it and their check for the photographers. I wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or relieved. I mean, I wanted to win something. And now there were only two trophies and eight squads left.

  So did I hope to be called now, or did I hope not to be called so that there was still a chance at first?

  Argh! This was impossible.

  Mindy clutched my left hand. Chandra released me for a second, then wove her fingers through mine on the other side, clutching even tighter.

  “Come on . . . come on . . . ,” Whitney muttered behind me.

  I wanted to ask her what she was hoping for, but there was no time.

  “Our second-place squad and winners of a $2,000 donation to their school’s athletic department is . . .”

  Oh man, oh man, oh man!

  “The Mecatur High School Black Bears from Mecatur, Louisiana!”

  What? my brain shouted in surprise.

  “Yes!” Tara cheered.

  I was speechless. Until that very moment I didn’t realize that I was fully expecting the Black Bears to win. Apparently, they were too, because it took them a second to react. The crowd went nuts, and finally the Black Bears did too. They hopped and cheered their way to the center of the mat for their trophy. They all looked fairly psyched. All except their captain. Her smile was faker than my Dooney & Bourke bag.

  “You know, if they took second, there’s a really good chance that we—”

  “Whitney, if you finish that sentence, I swear I will never speak to you again,” Tara said, her superstitious self taking over.

  “Hu
h, tempting,” Whitney said, causing all of us to laugh through our nerves.

  “And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for—”

  Obviously, Jordan’s voice said in my head, cracking me up.

  “Our new national champions and winners of a $5,000 donation to their school’s athletic department! Give it up for—”

  Anyone who says that time doesn’t stop is totally lying.

  “The Sand Dune High School Fighting Crabs of Sand Dune, Florida!”

  I was too stunned to move, but a wave of total exhilaration pushed me up off the floor and yanked me forward. Or maybe that was just Chandra and Mindy trying to pull my arms out of my sockets. I heard myself shouting and screaming. I heard the crowd go berserk. I almost tripped racing toward the trophy with the rest of the team grabbing me and each other and shouting their fool heads off. Flashbulbs popped. Poms waved. It was all a complete and total blur.

  Then I saw Tara grab the humongous trophy and hoist it over her head. We all gathered around her, lifting our hands toward the trophy and making number ones with our fingers. Steven circled us, taking pictures from every possible angle. The ESPN cameras swooped in on us, blinding us with their spotlights. As Gracie approached Tara with the microphone, I looked around at my squad mates, at Mindy, Autumn, Chandra, Jaimee, Erin, Felice, Whitney, Phoebe, Tara, Karianna, Sage—all of them—and knew that I wanted this moment to last forever.

  I couldn’t believe it. I, Annisa Gobrowski, was only sixteen, and my biggest dream had already come true.

  23

  Well, time never stops when you want it to. All too soon we found ourselves packed up and ready to go, waiting for the bus to drive around to the front door of the hotel to pick us up. The very cool thing was, we were all wearing blue T-shirts that had an SDH on the front and NATIONAL CHEERLEADING CHAMPIONS! on the back. Bobby Goow and the football team had ordered them way before we had ever even left for nationals. Being Tara’s boyfriend, he had really risked his life jinxing us like that.