My gymnastics career ended early, when an enormous growth spurt put me out of the running. Good gymnasts weren't tall, at least not any I knew.
Now the only gymnastics I did was when Poppy "accidentally" locked me out of the house and I had to climb up the trellis to my bedroom window to get in.
"I'm out of practice," I said. "And I don't want to try out in front of a bunch of people." The football players often sat in on cheering tryouts. What if Ryan saw me? I'd be a nervous wreck.
"Miss Foster convinced Principal Amador that this was an emergency situation," Samantha said. "It's a closed tryout." She gave me a knowing look. "Ryan Mendez won't be judging your cartwheels today."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It's all over school," she said, but then glanced at her watch. "We're late."
"What's all over school?" I asked.
But she ignored the question and instead grabbed my arm and pointed me toward the gym. "Go change. You have about thirty seconds."
I found myself running toward the gym.
"It'll be fun," she hollered after me. "You'll see. We're a nice group of girls, if you get to know us."
The problem was, I did know Samantha, at least I thought I did. And I didn't trust her one little bit. Her words had been comforting, though, and unlocked the paralyzing fright that had washed over me at the thought of deliberately drawing attention to myself.
I threw on my P.E. uniform, which was wrinkled and slightly pungent. I thanked my lucky stars that Ryan wouldn't be seeing this debacle.
Then a thought occurred to me. What if Samantha was setting me up? Call me paranoid, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd punked me. What if I tried out and it was just some big joke? Miss Foster had talked to me about joining, but that didn't mean this tryout was real.
So I tiptoed down the hall and opened the gym door just a crack.
Samantha had been telling the truth. No letter jackets in sight. Miss Foster, Mr. Amador, and what was left of the cheer squad were sitting at a long table. In front of them was a row of girls, most of whom looked as scared as I felt.
I slipped in next to Penny Edwards, who gave me a confident smile, then gave the thumbs-up to Samantha, who ignored her. Penny wore black from the top of her dyed hair to the Chucks she wore on her feet. She also rattled a little when she moved. I squinted and noticed what looked like chicken bones in her hair. At least I hoped they were chicken bones. The rest of the girls were wearing designer sweats or butt cuts and silky camisoles (mostly in black, the color of choice these days), outfits to enhance their attractiveness. I looked like I was wearing gym clothes that had been in my locker for two weeks, which I was.
I stood there for the next half hour while Samantha called out names. She consulted her clipboard officially, which was bogus, because Nightshade High was a small school. There were only a hundred people in our class. I'd bet money she knew the name and probably the bra size of every girl standing there.
I stretched while the other girls tried out. She finally called my name. Last, of course. I had pent-up energy to burn, so I started out with a couple of round offs and then went into a midair toe touch. I ended with a split. My muscles protested a little, but I ignored them. I stood up to show them what else I had (not much), when Miss Foster stopped me.
"Thank you, Daisy," she said. "I believe we've seen enough."
Samantha added, "Thank you all for coming. The results will be posted today after school."
I stood there and fumed. It had to be a joke. I'd barely had the chance to warm up before my tryout was over. I waited until everyone else had left and then walked over to Samantha.
"Thanks a lot," I said. "Why even bother having me try out? You knew I was nervous and you made me go last."
My voice sounded whiny, even to my own ears, but Samantha answered me patiently. "I had you try out because you're the best we've got. And I made you go last because it wouldn't be fair to the other girls if I hadn't. Some of them haven't had eight years of gymnastics, Daisy. If I had let you go first, it would have intimidated girls like Penny, who never even took basic tumbling."
"Oh, okay," I said, feeling a tiny bit ashamed for snapping at her.
My stomach growled loudly. Samantha stared at me.
"I know, I know. Cheerleaders don't eat lunch."
She bent down and rifled through her coffin. My eye was drawn to the necklace she'd worn ever since she came back from summer vacation a changed girl. It looked old—ancient even. The silver was slightly tarnished, but I could make out some sort of symbol in the middle of the pendant.
She came back up with a couple of granola bars. I quickly averted my eyes from her necklace. She didn't seem to notice my interest.
Instead, she handed me one of the bars. "Cheerleaders are prepared for any emergency. We can't have you fainting in class."
"Thanks," I said, surprised.
Now that I was alone with Sam, I finally got up the nerve to ask her something I'd been wondering about for a while. "What's up with all the black clothes?"
"Since when are you the fashion police?" she snapped. "I can dress however I want, Daisy."
"I know, but it's just so different from the way you used to look," I said. "Did anything happen this summer that brought on the change?"
For a brief moment, Samantha looked vulnerable, almost like the girl who I used to call my friend, but in an instant, her mask of cool was back. "No," she said. "I just wanted a change, okay?"
"And the pendant?" Now that I was up close and personal with Her Deadness, I could finally get a good look at the symbol on it. "Is that an ankh?" All I knew about the ankh symbol was that it was Egyptian. And that was only because we studied Egypt in seventh grade.
"Yes," she answered, now beyond testy. "God, Daisy, what's with all the questions? I don't have time for this." And with that, she stormed off, her coffin trailing behind her.
"See you later," I called.
"Yes, you will," she replied. I wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news.
After school, I spotted Ryan hanging out by my locker. He was deep in conversation with Samantha's boyfriend, Sean.
The sight of Ryan set my heart thumping. I watched him out of the corner of my eye while I grabbed the books I'd need for homework later.
He broke off his conversation and hurried over. "Hey, Daisy, where have you been? I looked for you in the cafeteria at lunch."
I turned to speak to him, leaving my locker door open.
"What do you want, Ryan?" Despite my best efforts to control it, my voice was noticeably cool.
"Sean, Samantha, and I want to take you out tonight," he said.
I whirled around, furious. I didn't need a consolation dinner. It was bad enough that Ryan didn't think I was the cheerleader type. There was no need to rub my abysmal tryout in my face.
My locker door slammed shut, but I hadn't touched it. In fact, I found out later that every open door in the school slammed shut. Including Sam Tsai's, who still had his hand in his locker at the time.
"Why exactly would you want to do that?" I hissed. Igloos were warmer than my voice.
"I thought you might want to celebrate," Ryan said. His voice matched mine, ice chip for ice chip. "Do you want to go out or not? I mentioned to Sean and Samantha that we might be heading for the Black Opal tonight, and Samantha thought it might be a great way to congratulate the newest cheerleader."
"Celebrate? Cheerleader? Do you mean...?"
"Didn't you know?" he grinned at me, finally catching on to my utter cluelessness. "You made the cheerleading team."
My life was becoming surreal. I looked around for the cameras but didn't see any. Yesterday, plain old Daisy Giordano. Today, Daisy Giordano, cheerleader, who was going to a trendy club with the hottest guy in school (even if it was to catch an evildoer). I thought it seemed too good to be true—and it turned out I was absolutely right.
Chapter Six
I wondered if Ryan still would have asked me
out if I hadn't made the squad. I wanted to go out with Ryan on a real date. Badly. But this wasn't a real date. It was an investigation, a way to help my mom with the case.
I worried that Ryan, too, could have an ulterior motive for this date. Maybe I was just his camouflage and he was really trying to get closer to Samantha, so he could snake her right out from under Sean's cute but less-than-bright nose. It didn't sound like the Ryan I knew, but wiser men than he had done some crazy stuff in the name of love. Ryan seemed to have forgotten he ever had a crush on Samantha, but I hadn't.
Poppy and her friend Candy Thompson were hanging out in the family room when I got home. When I appeared, there was that sudden pause that happens when you enter a room where the people in it have been talking about you.
"If it isn't my little sister, the varsity cheerleader," Poppy's voice was treacle sweet.
I hadn't said anything about tryouts because I was sure I wouldn't have a chance in Nightshade of making the squad. But I knew Poppy was probably upset that I hadn't said anything. Popularity was her thing, and cheerleading was veering into her territory.
"How did you find out so quickly?" I blurted out. "I didn't find out until Ryan told me after school just now." And Poppy didn't have a class last period, a privilege only for seniors.
"Rose is home," she answered. "She overheard the news from some kid walking home. The girl went right by the house. Whoever it was, she wasn't too happy that you made cheerleading and she didn't."
Poppy's eyes narrowed. "And Ryan told you? You two have been hanging out a lot lately." I could practically see the air quotes in the way she said "hanging out."
"We're just friends," I said. Lame, I knew, but the truth was. I didn't know what was going on with Ryan and me. If I admitted as much, Poppy would just tell me to ask him, and I couldn't think of anything more terrifying than that.
"Friends, huh?" Candy said. "That's not what I heard." Candy couldn't keep a secret, so she didn't even bother to try. Another reason for not wanting to talk in front of Poppy's curious friend.
That's the downside (one of many) of small-town life. Gossip was a recreational sport in Nightshade. I wondered if Samantha had been the one doing the talking. She'd certainly been the culprit back in sixth grade, which was something I'd never forgiven her for.
Poppy, for once, didn't move in for the kill. "We have more important things to talk about than my little sis's boring love life, Candy," she said, with a sniff.
Thankfully, Candy took the hint and they moved on to dissecting someone else. I made my escape upstairs. I needed to figure out what to wear. I knew Samantha would appear in something fabulous, but I had no idea what to wear to a club.
But first, I had to ask Rose something. I knocked on her bedroom door.
"Come in, Daisy," she called. "Congratulations on making the cheerleading squad," she said without even looking up from her laptop.
"Thanks," I said. I cleared my throat. "Hey, I need to ask you something."
"Shoot," she said. Rose was the smartest person I knew. Talking to her was better than a trip to the library.
"What do you know about the ankh?"
"Ancient Egyptian symbol?" Rose thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure it represents immortality." She typed something into her computer. Gotta love that Google. "Here we go. It says here that tomb paintings often show the deities of the afterlife giving the ankh to a mummy. It's like giving them the gift of life."
My heart jumped. "So you're saying it brings dead people back to life? Like ... vampires?"
Rose shut her laptop with a loud snap. "Vampires? Daisy, what are you getting at?"
"Nothing," I said. I was determined to solve the mystery without the benefit of my sisters' psychic powers. Still, I couldn't resist asking Rose how it was going on her end. "So, have you been able to help Mom with that case?"
Rose shook her head and sighed. "Not much," she said. "Not yet, anyway." She looked eager to change the subject. "It's getting late. I've got to go." She rose from the bed.
"Where are you off to tonight?"
"Just the library." After a quick once-over in the mirror, she pulled on a jacket and rushed past me to the stairs.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" I dangled her backpack in front of her. Rose never went to the library without it.
"Oh, yeah," she said and rushed back to grab it. "Thanks." She really was absentminded lately.
After Rose was gone, I went to my room to get ready. I rifled through my closet and despaired at the idea of finding anything remotely stylish. The thought briefly crossed my mind that I could borrow something from Poppy, but then I remembered the Dairy Queen incident and decided against it. I looked at the pile of clothes on my bed. There had to be at least one outfit suitable for clubbing.
I was just about to give up when a door slammed downstairs, and a few minutes later, Poppy appeared in my doorway.
"I knew it," she crowed. "You do have a date with a hot guy. Ryan Mendez, huh?"
"Where's Candy?" I asked.
"She left," Poppy said. "I knew you'd never spill in front of her, so I told her I had homework. Candy's allergic to homework."
I breathed a sigh of relief and said to her, "It's not exactly a date. We're going to the Black Opal to investigate."
"Interesting," Poppy said. "What are you investigating, each other?"
"Grow up, Poppy!" I snarled, "We're trying to help Mom and Chief Mendez on the case," I said.
"Is that all you are planning on doing?" she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Please stop it. I'm nervous enough about this. And I have no idea what to wear."
She studied the pile on my bed with a look of concentration. "No, no, and no!" she said, and a T-shirt, a pair of capris, and a dress floated back into my closet and hung themselves back up neatly.
One by one, my clothes returned to the closet, until there was a small pile left on the bed.
Poppy snapped her fingers. "Wait a minute. I think I have a top that will match your eyes perfectly." A minute later, a silky periwinkle top floated into my room. "Here, try this on with this skirt," she said.
"I just thought of something," I said. "I can't go! I haven't made dinner." Suddenly, I was terrified at the prospect of spending time with Ryan, even though it wasn't a real date. But Poppy caught on.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "You and Ryan have been friends for ages. You'll have a great time, so stop worrying."
"Thanks, Poppy," I said. This was the side of Poppy I hadn't seen in a long time. I wasn't sure what had brought out her good side, but I was grateful something had.
"And I'll handle dinner," she added. She chuckled at my look of horror. "Don't worry, I won't touch your precious pots and pans. I'll order a pizza."
"What time is he going to pick you up?" she asked.
"He said seven." What if he didn't show?
Poppy looked at the clock. It read 5:00. "You'd better get in the shower," she said, shoving me toward the bathroom. "You don't have much time."
Not much time? It took me fifteen minutes to get ready normally, half an hour when I really worked at it. But that was before Poppy got ahold of me.
After a long shower, I found Poppy inspecting three outfits she'd deemed worthy of a first date.
"The Black Opal won't let you in unless you dress to impress," she warned.
I noticed that the denim skirt I bought last month was the only option from my own wardrobe. She'd paired it with a burgundy boho top with full sleeves and with heels that could double as an assault weapon. There was also a short deep blue dress with a plunging neckline that I vetoed immediately. I wanted Ryan to like me for more than my cleavage. The third outfit included Rose's favorite jeans, the superexpensive ones that fit me perfectly, Poppy's periwinkle top, and shoes I could actually walk in. Naturally, I chose the last outfit.
Poppy nodded her approval. "Now get dressed and I'll do your hair and makeup."
As Poppy did her magic, I wond
ered if all the primping was worth it. "There," she said. "All done. Take a look."
I stepped in front of the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door. I was speechless. Poppy had worked a miracle. My eyes magically looked bigger and bluer than ever, my lashes were impossibly long, and my hair looked sexily tousled, not the usual flyaway mess. For the first time, I could see my own resemblance to my glamorous mother and sisters.
"It's a good thing Mom's working late again tonight," she commented. "She'd have a heart attack to see you looking like this. She still thinks you're five."
"Poppy, thanks so much!" I gave her a hug. She hugged me back, just for a second, and then said, "Oh, don't worry. I'll think of some way you can repay me."
Whatever torture she had dreamed up in repayment would totally be worth it, I thought, but I knew Poppy well enough not to say it out loud.
The doorbell rang and I looked at my watch. It was five to seven.
"He's early," Poppy said. "He's got it bad."
We started for the door, but then I thought of something. "Hey, Poppy?"
"Yeah?" She paused at the top of the stairs.
I gestured to my borrowed finery. "This isn't going to float off my back at midnight, is it?"
"Of course not," she replied. "I gave you permission to borrow this outfit. And besides, Ryan Mendez is a million times hotter than Brian Miller."
Poppy went into the kitchen while I answered the door. For a minute, I stared at Ryan and forgot to breathe. He looked amazing. His shirt matched his green eyes. We locked gazes, and neither of us would look away.
"Hi," he said, smiling softly. "Wow."
"Hi," I said, still looking into his eyes.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked. "Or maybe I should come in and say hi to your mom before we leave."
I opened the door wider to let him in. "Mom's not home from work yet. I think she's still working on that case."
Ryan shifted his feet nervously but took one step inside. "Really? Dad's still working, too," he said. "Maybe we should just go, then."
I grabbed my purse. "Poppy, we're leaving. Let Mom know where I am, okay?"
Dead Is the New Black Page 4
