by Kieran Scott
I was really starting to like the boy.
“I wish we could just stay here,” Autumn said, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I like the vibe.”
“The winning vibe,” Chandra said, smacking hands with Erin.
“No doubt,” Erin replied.
“What’re you guys gonna do when we get back?” I asked.
“We’ve got basketball practice on Monday,” Erin said, stretching her arms above her head.
“Yeah, you guys are going to have to live without us from now on,” Whitney added. “We are so gonna kick ass this season,” she added matter-of-factly.
My heart sank a bit and I took a deep breath. It finally hit home that we were losing Erin, Whitney and Mindy for the winter season, which meant new tryouts for the cheerleading squad. From what I understood, the winter season was very different. With two or more basketball games a week to cheer for, there was no competing and a lot less stress. Still, it was going to be weird bringing new people onto the team.
“I’m gonna miss you guys,” I said with a little frown.
“Aw! But you’ll be cheering for us!” Whitney said, knocking me with her elbow. “And I expect a very creative, personal cheer for every time I hit a three-pointer.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said as the bus finally pulled up and hit its air brakes.
Everyone started chattering and loading their stuff under the bus. I felt someone step up behind me and turned around to find Steven standing there. For once, his camera was nowhere in sight.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
My heart thumped with foreboding. “Yeah. Sure.”
We stepped off to the side and let everyone pass. This was pretty much the last conversation I wanted to have, but it would be a lot better to get it out of the way now than to be uncomfortable all the way home on the bus.
“Listen, I’m really sorry about the other night. About kissing you,” Steven said, jumping right in. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” I said.
“Yeah, actually, I am. It’s just the more questions I asked about you, the more I liked you,” he said, blushing. “I guess I kind of got a crush. Totally stupid.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, trying to make him feel better. “It’s sweet.”
“No! It’s stupid!” Steven replied adamantly. “How am I supposed to be an impartial reporter if I develop crushes on all my subjects? I mean, what if I get to meet Kate Winslet one day? Apparently I’m going to be licking her feet.”
I smiled. “Okay, you have a point there.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry,” he said. “And I’m just kind of hoping we can be friends.”
“Absolutely,” I told him. “Friends.”
Steven smiled. “Cool.”
We turned and headed back toward the bus. “So . . . Kate Winslet?”
“She’s a British Botticelli goddess,” Steven replied, all starry-eyed.
“Good taste,” I said.
“Yo! Schwinn! Where’s the camera?”
We looked up to find Bethany and Chuck walking toward us, arms slung around each other. It was crazy how totally natural they looked together after only a couple of days.
“Oh, sorry, boss,” Steven said, whipping out his digital. He quickly fired off a few pics of the squad loading their bags onto the bus.
“Get a close-up of their butts,” Bethany said under her breath. “Maybe we can run a ‘Whose booty is it?’ contest.”
“Bethany!” I gasped.
“Kidding!” she replied.
“I don’t get it. Why are you calling her boss?” I asked Steven. “I thought you guys hated each other.”
“That was until I saw his work,” Bethany said, slapping Steven on the back so hard, he tripped forward. “Boy’s an artiste.”
I laughed, thoroughly confused. “So, what? You’re quitting the paper? Or are you just gonna be all stealth about it?”
“Nothing wrong with freelancing,” Steven said with a shrug. “I gotta get my stuff out there.”
“Power to the press,” I said. “Or the Internet. Whatever.”
“My queen? I have to leave you,” Chuck said, taking both of Bethany’s hands in his. He kissed one, then the other, then planted a long, deep kiss on her lips. By the time he pulled away, I think Bethany was floating somewhere over the hotel.
“Call me,” she said dreamily as he lifted his hand and walked off.
“Did he just call you his queen?” I asked.
“Repeat it and die,” Bethany said, still smiling.
“Duly noted,” I replied.
Just then Daniel and a bunch of his friends walked out of the lobby with their bags. My heart twirled like a top when I saw him. Mine, all mine, my brain singsonged.
“All right, everyone! Let’s load it up!” Coach Holmes called out.
Daniel walked over to me and picked up my bag. “Here. I’ll get that for you. National champions should not have to lift their own bags,” he said with a grin, his blond hair flopping over his eyes.
Bethany fake gagged.
“Oh, really, Your Highness?” I said, raising my eyebrows.
Bethany took the hint. “Healy! I’ll meet you by the car!” she said, backing off quickly.
Daniel lifted my bag into the undercarriage of the bus, then wrapped me up in his arms and gave me a quick kiss.
“I’m gonna miss you,” he said.
“It’s a one-hour bus ride,” I replied, smiling.
“I know,” he replied. “Call me when you get home and I’ll come over. Better yet, call me when you get to the school so I can be at your house when you get there.”
Terrell, who had come down with the team for the competition, made a whipping sound over Daniel’s shoulder. We both laughed and parted.
“I guess I better go before more damage is done,” Daniel said.
“See ya!” I replied.
I climbed onto the bus to a chorus of teasing kissy-face noises from half the football team. Little did they know, I loved every minute of it.
As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, Tara started up a chant of “S! D! H!” We all got into it, keeping the windows open and cheering as we passed by other squads and parents. Everyone cheered and waved as we went by, like we were a bus full of real celebrities. The only ones who kind of ignored us were the Black Bears. Oh, well. If they were so upset about losing, let them come back next year and try to kick our butts. That was what competition was all about.
Once we got on the highway, we all settled into our seats and Tara stood up in the center aisle. She raised her hands for quiet and slowly everyone clammed up.
“I just wanted to thank everyone for a job well done,” Tara said. “Let’s hear it for the national champions!”
We all whooped it up, cheering and laughing.
“But if I can get serious for a moment, I do want to acknowledge our seniors,” Tara said, holding on to two seat backs as the driver hit a bump. “For some of us, this was our last competition.”
“And what a way to go out!” Whitney shouted, earning another round of cheers.
“Yeah, baby!” Tara said. “But, no, seriously. Whitney, Phoebe, Felice, Lindsey, Kimberly, you guys have been the best teammates any of us could ask for. So thanks for everything. Here’s to the seniors!”
“Seniors! Seniors! Seniors!” Chandra chanted, getting everyone in on the act. Phoebe and Lindsey were crying and Tara went back to hug each of them in turn, losing her balance a couple of times as the bus shifted. Steven sat on his knees, taking pictures of the emotional moment from over the back of his seat.
Once the chanting was done, a subdued silence fell over the bus. I had a lump in the back of my throat that threatened to spill over. I had tried to avoid thinking about it, but it was no longer possible. What was the squad going to be like without Tara’s tyranny and Whitney’s sarcasm? I couldn’t even imagine not seeing them and Phoebe and the others every single day. A year from now, I wouldn’t be seeing them
at all.
Who would our new teammates be? Who would be our new captain? Would whoever it was be able to lead us back to nationals? It was impossible to believe that we could do it without the seniors.
“All right! That’s enough!” Coach Holmes said, standing up. “No sad faces! This is supposed to be a celebration!”
She reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a bottle of sparkling cider, holding it out for all of us to see. Everyone oohed and aahed appropriately. Then she shook it up and popped the cap, spraying us all with foam.
Through all the shrieks and shouts I saw Steven snapping shot after shot, laughing and trying to shield his camera at the same time. Mindy and I huddled together, attempting to protect ourselves from the spray, but it was no use. Mascara ran, hair was soaked, shirts stuck to our bodies. We all looked like a bunch of drowned rats by the time it was over, but happy drowned rats. If you can picture it.
Coach took out another bottle and a bunch of blue plastic cups and poured us each a small drink. Everyone slid to the ends of their seats and lifted their cups together. I smiled, looking around at the rest of my team. We had really done it. We had come together and supported each other all the way to the title. And I hadn’t even had to dye my hair. Sure, things were about to change, but for now, Phoebe was okay, Sage wasn’t spouting her usual obnoxious-isms, Chandra was looking gorgeously original, and no one had mentioned the captainship all morning. For now we were all together, we were all winners, and I was just going to enjoy the moment.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Coach Holmes said. “To the champions!”
Everyone grinned giddily. “To the champions!”
1
“He’s coming, everyone!” Tara Timothy hissed with one of her patented no-nonsense glares. “Get ready!”
The dozens of students and faculty members that had gathered in the lobby for the impromptu wrestling pep rally instantly fell silent. No one messed with Tara Timothy, fear-inspiring leader of the Sand Dune High cheerleading squad. Excuse me, the national champion Sand Dune High cheerleading squad. We had just won at nationals a few weeks back and I still liked the ring to our nifty little title. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe that I, Annisa Gobrowski, former member of a fairly uninspired cheer squad from New Jersey, was now a member of the greatest squad in the land.
I stood on my tiptoes to see through the glass doors of the school. Sure enough, K. C. Lawrence’s blue Jeep Wrangler had just pulled into a space near the top of the parking lot.
Together with the rest of the squad, I backed up under the light blue and yellow “Pin ’Em Crabs!” banner we had all worked on at Tara’s house the night before. Suddenly I felt someone’s arms encircling my waist from behind.
“Hey, Jersey,” Daniel Healy whispered in my ear.
My heart fluttered around in my chest as his warm breath made goose bumps pop out all over my skin.
“Hey, yourself,” I replied over my shoulder, feeling oh so cutesy coupley.
Daniel, blond, tan and huhmana as ever, quickly smooched my cheek. Yes, my cheek. He was my very own hunk of boyfriendly perfection. Mine all mine. Daniel was my very first boyfriend and, even better, this was going to be my very first Christmas with a boyfriend. That’s right, the holiday to end all holidays was just around the corner and with Daniel in my life I had so much to look forward to. Kisses under the mistletoe, long walks in the snow . . . I mean, the sand . . . Ah, it was going to be perfection. When I had moved to Florida from New Jersey a couple months back, I had thought my life was pretty much over. But lately things were seriously looking up.
Daniel gave me a squeeze and whispered in my ear again. “I missed you.”
“You walked me to school ten minutes ago,” I told him, blushing.
“Longest ten minutes of my life,” he replied.
“Ugh. Could you guys be any more dramatic?” Sage Barnard said, flipping her Jessica Simpson curls over her shoulder. “Spare us.”
Sage shot us an irritated scowl—as she always did whenever Daniel touched, kissed or even breathed the same air as me—then moved to the other end of the squad line. I didn’t know what her problem was. She and Daniel had been broken up for a couple of months now and she already had a new boyfriend. His older brother Christopher.
I know. Ick.
“So, how does it feel to be a civilian?” I asked Daniel.
“And to not be wearing a tie?” he said with a grin. “Darn good.”
Daniel was not in a shirt and tie like the rest of the wrestling team because he had recently quit so he could concentrate on his music—guitar, to be exact. I was still proud of him for standing up to his father and Christopher—who was a senior and still on the team. Until this year both Daniel and Christopher had played football in the fall, wrestled in the winter and ran track in the spring. They were so alike that Christopher’s friends took to calling Daniel “Mini-Chris.” But now that Daniel had found his own thing, they’d have to come up with a new nickname.
“Here he is! Healy, back off!” Tara demanded, thrusting one of her poms at him.
Daniel instantly released me and took a few steps back, hands raised.
Moments later the glass door swung open and K. C. Lawrence, superstar of the SDH wrestling team, walked in. K. C. was on the short side (good wrestlers often are, I’m told—something to do with center of gravity), but totally buff. He was perpetually tan, as most of the kids around here were, and you could see the green of his eyes from about a mile away. He also had long, blond surfer hair that just grazed his shoulders.
No wonder half the girls in school seemed so ready to swoon at the sound of his name. He was definitely drool-inspiring.
“Let’s hear it for K. C. ! Junior Olympic champion!” Tara shouted.
K. C. stopped in his tracks, trapped in the metaphorical spotlight. He clutched the strap on his backpack and stared at us all, stunned.
“K.C.! K.C.! K.C.!” everyone chanted, clapping to the beat.
Finally K. C. ducked his head, waved, blushed and smiled. Then Tara beckoned him over. “Speech!” she shouted. “Everyone wants to hear how you’re going to lead the wrestling team to states this year!”
Cheers everywhere. K. C. looked like he’d rather do anything but address the crowd, and my heart went out to him. Some people were just not down with public speaking. (Myself not included. But I guess that’s obvious or I wouldn’t be a cheerleader, choir member and spring musical hopeful.) Still, it seemed like a better idea to do what the masses wanted than to contradict dozens of shouting teenagers hopped up on Starbucks and sugar cereal. Eventually he walked forward and stood next to Tara. The crowd was rapt.
“Uh . . . how am I going to lead the wrestling team to states this year?” he said, looking around. We waited anxiously. “Uh . . . I guess we’ll just win.”
He shrugged and everyone cracked up laughing, cheering some more. His teammates loved it and clapped louder than anyone.
The crowd started to disperse as the wrestling team practically carried K. C. out of the room. Daniel went along with them, all caught up in the testosterone of the moment, I’m sure. Tara looked at her friend and our teammate Phoebe Cook and her shoulders slumped.
“Well. That was worth all the effort,” she said sarcastically.
Just then, my best friend Bethany Goow loped through the front doors, her eyes hidden behind her dark sunglasses, her hair freshly dyed a psychedelic shade of red for the holidays. She looked around at the pom strings on the ground and the banner above.
“What’d I miss?” she asked, yanking the earbuds out of her ears. I could hear the loud wail of electric guitar from ten feet away.
“Nothing you would’ve wanted to be a part of,” I told her as we walked toward the front hall and our lockers.
“What?” she shouted.
“I said, ‘Nothing you’d want to be a part of!”’ I replied. “You’re going deaf with that thing, you know.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll take that into c
onsideration,” Bethany told me, reaching into her bag to shut off her iPod.
“Hey, guys!” Mindy McMahon, another friend and member of the football cheerleading squad, fell into step with us.
“Barbie,” Bethany greeted her with a nod.
“Elmo,” Mindy shot back.
Bethany smirked. “Touché,” she said. “Someone’s learning.”
Mindy shook her head, but I could tell she was proud of herself. It wasn’t every day Mindy was able to come up with a comeback and I was glad that she had. If she had tried to argue the similarities between her physical self and the most famous doll in the universe, Bethany would have definitely won the debate. Tall, naturally beautiful and healthfully tan, Mindy wore a light pink sundress with a blue sweater over it, looking like she’d just stepped out of a 1950s commercial for clothing detergent.
“I kind of feel bad for K. C. ,” Mindy said, twirling her blonde hair tightly around her index finger until the tip turned red. “I mean, all that pressure. Everyone counting on you to go undefeated? I don’t think I could handle it.”
“That’s what that was all about? K. C. Lawrence?” Bethany said, incredulous. “I can’t believe I missed it.”
Mindy and I exchanged a confused look. “Are you going all school spirit on us now?” I asked.
“Hardly. But even I can get behind a sport in which hot guys in onesies toss each other around on the floor,” Bethany said as she unwrapped a fresh Blow Pop. “It’s both sexual and ridiculous. That’s entertainment.”
Bethany shoved her lollipop in her mouth and grinned. Mindy paused to study her.
“You know, just when I think you might be semi-normal, you go and say something that totally freaks me out,” Mindy said matter-of-factly.
“Intriguing that way, aren’t I?” Bethany replied, picking at a scab on her forearm.
Mindy kept walking. “So, Annisa, are you ready for cheerleading tryouts?”
“I think so. Should be interesting,” I replied.
“Tryouts! Didn’t you just try out? I gotta go through that again?” Bethany whined.
“I’m not trying out,” I told her. “We need to find three new girls to replace Mindy, Whitney and Erin for basketball season.”
