The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading Read online

  We dashed up the aisle, out the door, and into the hall. I took hold of Moni’s shoulders and stared into her too-bright eyes. “We are never, ever, doing that again.”

  Amazingly, after all that, I still had time to slip into the newspaper office and catch part of the weekly staff meeting. But one look at Moni told me she wouldn’t be satisfied until she read the tryout results in black and white. Or purple and gold—Coach Sheila probably wrote exclusively in the school colors.

  The same went for everyone else, or so it seemed. Even though Thanksgiving break had officially started at last bell, twenty girls loitered in the lobby. Sure, a few pretended to study the trophies in the cases, but most of them made no pretense at all. They just sat outside the Little Theater, eyes narrowed, expressions grim.

  “How long does it take to copy last year’s roster?” I asked.

  “At least the view is good while we wait,” Moni said, and nodded her head toward the open gym doors. The varsity basketball team was practicing there—a worthy diversion, in most everyone’s opinion—or at least the opinion of the girls peering inside. Were they any different from Todd or Brian going brain-dead over cheerleaders?

  “So I’m missing newspaper to watch a bunch of jocks?” I said.

  “Hot jocks,” Moni corrected.

  “Conceded. Still—”

  Moni held up a hand and continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “Did you see Jack Paulson today? I think he’s grown five more inches since September.”

  Jack had played on the varsity team since our freshman year. Now that he was a junior, he stood a head above even the tallest senior. Did I see Jack Paulson? What kind of question was that? Of course I saw Jack Paulson. Everyone saw Jack Paulson. He was…well, Jack Paulson.

  The door to the Little Theater opened a crack. A hand with perfectly lacquered nails emerged and taped a sheet of paper to the wall.

  Most of the girls sprang forward. It must have been mass hysteria or something, but my feet carried me toward the list. I stopped before I got too far, though, vowing not to give it any more attention than it deserved.

  Kaleigh came up behind Moni and me. “You guys heard, right?”

  “Heard what?” I asked. Moni ducked her head.

  “There are three slots up for grabs,” Kaleigh said.

  “Twelve,” I corrected her.

  Kaleigh tipped her head to one side and squinted. “Twelve?”

  “Technically, all positions on the cheer squad last for just one season. ‘Veteran cheerleaders are encouraged to reapply but cannot be guaranteed a spot on the team.’ It says so right here.”

  I offered the info sheet to Kaleigh for inspection. She waved it off, rolled her eyes, and turned her attention to Moni. “Dina, Traci, and Chantal can’t cheer this season. Traci and Chantal are banned, and Dina…” She trailed off.

  And Dina…Until that moment I’d almost forgotten about the party last August, the keg of beer, and the accident that sent shock waves through the school. Dina was still in physical therapy and being homeschooled. Now Traci and Chantal couldn’t cheer?

  Of course they couldn’t—Prairie Stone High School had a zero tolerance policy. I hadn’t put two and two together before now, but apparently Kaleigh—and Moni—had.

  “So,” Kaleigh continued, “anyone could make the squad.” She skipped a few feet ahead. “Well, almost,” she tossed that last comment over her shoulder before bolting for the list.

  Moni huffed and walked in a tight circle. “One of these days, I’m going to slap the lip gloss right off her mouth.”

  “You knew, didn’t you?” I said.

  She shrugged and gave me another Moni Lisa smile. “I know this,” she said. “We really need to check that roster.”

  “Please. Moni.” I reached out to stop her. “I went along with this ‘for the experience,’ but even with Chantal out of the running…” I shook my head, frustrated. “You didn’t fall and hit your head during one of those round-offs, did you? Girls like us, we don’t…” I sighed. Girls like us didn’t do a lot of things, and cheerleading was at the top of that list.

  Moni turned, pointing toward the trophy case, then the Little Theater, and the gym. “Think about it.” Now she pointed down the hall, toward the cafeteria and the gauntlet, that spot where Chantal, Traci, and their minions hung out. “Without them anything can happen.”

  “So it’s what?” I said. “A cheerleading paradigm shift?”

  “Now you sound like Todd.”

  Yeah, it was something he’d say. Todd was forever talking about things like that. He was really into politics, and he didn’t restrict his opinions to the national level, either. According to Todd, politics and politicians were everywhere. Especially in high school.

  Kaleigh burst through the crowd around the roster, arms in the air, a victory dance in progress. If she had a football, she would’ve spiked it.

  “Uh-huh, that’s right. I did it. I’m the—”

  “Man?” Moni suggested.

  Not even Moni could bring Kaleigh down. “Made the squad, which is more than—”

  Another girl broke through the crowd, red blotches already sprouting on her cheeks. She tried to hide her expression, but I saw it. “Anna?” I said.

  Kaleigh whirled. “Oh God, Anna. I didn’t even look….”

  That was Kaleigh for you—the kind of girl who’d start celebrating before checking whether her best friend made the squad.

  I watched Kaleigh trail Anna down the hall toward the junior lockers. A lone figure stood near the end of the corridor. Blond. Lean. In the kind of outfit that sneered at Minnesota Novembers. Chantal?

  Once Chantal and I had shared the barre in Madame Wolsinski’s modern dance class. We were a two-girl front against the others, with their whispered insults and snobbish exclusionary tactics. But that was before Chantal metamorphosed into the darling of Prairie Stone High. Before I reached my full geek potential.

  “You know,” I said to Moni, “this wasn’t supposed to matter.” And yet, somehow—

  “It doesn’t,” she said, but her voice sounded hollow.

  And that ache in my stomach? That didn’t matter either.

  I tugged Moni by the sleeve. “I think we’re going to need the real thing after this—white chocolate mochas with whipped cream. Maybe even extra whip.” I stepped forward, but Moni stopped me.

  “It was my idea. I’ll look.” She slipped into the crowd and under the arm of a red-headed senior. Moni stood on tiptoes, fingers pressed against the posted roster. She stayed like that for way too long. Moni could speed-read; she liked to run through digits of p in her head—for fun. She probably had the entire list memorized in two seconds.

  A whine rose up from within the crowd. I braced myself; we were definitely going to need the extra whip. But it wasn’t Moni, and it wasn’t a whine. The tone transformed into a high-pitched shriek. Next thing I knew, the redhead had a handful of Moni’s T-shirt. I rushed to save my friend, but the girl grabbed me, too, then pulled us into a group hug…one that grew to include the entire brand-new Prairie Stone High School varsity cheerleading squad.

  And there Moni and I were, right in the middle.

  In the sea of squeals, Moni bumped me and I bumped Kaleigh, who had returned (it seemed) from hastily consoling Anna. Kaleigh gave me a look, then bumped both of us back. Moni and I stumbled to the outskirts of the squad.

  “No. Way,” I said.

  “Way!” Moni nodded, curls flying.

  I pointed at Moni, then back at myself, because a strange fear had stolen my voice. We both made it?

  The flying curls bounced into place. For the first time since her parents divorced, Moni looked serene. Content, even. When at last she nodded, I had to wonder, How much did this cheerleading thing really mean to her?

  Sheila emerged from the Little Theater and dropped pair after pair of purple and gold pom-poms into the mob.

  “Here you go, girls,” she said. “Take them home. We’ll do uniforms on Mon
day, but this is the best way to let everyone know you made it.”

  I looked down to find gold in my right hand and purple in my left. How could I take these…things home? My parents didn’t even know I was trying out. All I’d said was that I was staying after school with Moni. That was normal enough. Between class projects, painting scenery for the school play, and working on the newspaper, I stayed late all the time. Sure, I had extra-curriculars. There wasn’t much else to do in Prairie Stone. But cheerleading?

  The thud of a basketball stole my attention. It bounced across the lobby and straight toward my feet. I trapped it, barely, between purple and gold fringe. Then I looked up.

  Jack Paulson.

  He held out his hands to take the ball, and they tangled with mine in the pom-poms. His skin was warm, and I tried not to count the number of times his fingers touched mine. (One, two, three…swoon…four times?) He laughed. His normally dark brown hair was black and spiked from sweat. Jack wasn’t just cute and talented. He worked hard—harder than most boys on the team.

  Too soon, the basketball escaped the pom-poms. Jack held the ball against one hip, an arm draped over it to keep it in place.

  “You make the squad?” he asked.

  I wanted to say…something. At that moment, though, the only thing in my head was that stupid chess cheer from a few weeks ago: Gambit to the left, castle to the right, endgame, endgame, now in sight! That would be worse than lame. I held the pom-poms out as if they could speak for me.

  “Well, congrats,” said Jack. “Looks like I’ll be seeing you at the games.”

  “Paulson!” came a voice from the gym. “You’re up! Get your butt back in here.”

  Jack glanced over his shoulder at the gym; then, barely turning toward me, said, “See ya.” And took off.

  “See ya,” I croaked.

  “Oh…my…God.” Moni came up behind me. She was sounding more like a cheerleader every minute. Frankly, it was a little disturbing.

  “I just knew it,” she said. “This cheerleading thing is going to pay off. Big-time.”

  “What?”

  “Hello! Jack Paulson. The Jack Paulson. He’s going to be seeing you at the games?”

  I glanced at the gym, then inspected the pom-poms. They couldn’t possibly be a Get Out of Geek Free card, could they? They couldn’t. “I think he meant ‘you’ as in everyone on the squad,” I said. “You know, the collective.”

  “Yeah. Right. A collective of cheerleaders.” Moni snorted. “A pod of whales, a colony of rats, a pride of lions—”

  I stopped her before she got to her favorite—a coffle of asses.

  It didn’t really matter if we were cheerleaders, right? Except, maybe it did. The possibility of it tightened around my heart. Jack Paulson was…well, Jack Freakin’ Paulson, and totally unattainable. One of the many places geek girls didn’t go. Not even ones with pom-poms.

  “Girls,” Sheila said. The empty pom-pom bag at her feet looked like a deflated balloon. “Can I talk to you two?”

  It wasn’t like we had a choice. She bounced forward, winter coat fluttering at her sides, and planted herself in front of us. It was an impressive move, considering the weight of wool, the canvas tote, and those killer boots. Sheila Manning could probably strike terror in the heart of the meanest mean-girl cheerleader. I resisted the urge to cower behind Moni.

  “You’re new to cheerleading, aren’t you?”

  Wasn’t that obvious?

  “Well, I think a bit of fresh blood might be—” Sheila tucked a lock of glossy auburn hair behind one ear. “A good thing. And honestly…” Hands on hips now, she continued, “You two were the only ones who looked like you were having any fun out there. Your school spirit just shines.” Sheila dug through her tote and pulled out two spiral-bound books. “But I think you might want to acquaint yourself with this before the start of practice next week.” She handed us each a book, and I took a quick glance at the title: The Prairie Stone High Varsity Cheerleading Guide by Coach Sheila Manning.

  With that, Sheila headed for the entrance. She halted at the door, though, nailing us with a look. “And Moni, sweetie, you really need to work on your splits.”

  Only when the second set of double doors whooshed closed did we dare to look at each other. “I’ve got spirit. Yes, I do,” Moni said, straight-faced. “I’ve got spirit. How about you?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “That thing about fresh blood, you think it’s anything like fresh meat?”

  “Oh, no. It’s much better.” That sly Moni Lisa smile flitted across her face. “This changes everything,” she added.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Don’t you get it? We made the squad. Next thing you know, Todd and Brian will go out for football.”

  The co-captains of the debate team? Football? Brian was destined to win a Nobel Prize. Todd would go into politics, or make a gazillion selling used cars—like his dad. More likely both.

  “I have a better shot at the football team.”

  “All I’m saying is,” Moni spread her arms wide, “we are a beacon of light to geek girls everywhere.”

  “Viva la geek?”

  “Cha-yeah. We’re like the cheerleading weapons of mass destruction.”

  “You mean everyone’s scared of us, but we don’t really exist?” She was right about the nonexistence part, if nothing else.

  “No,” Moni said, “more like—”

  “A cheerleading new world order?” Sheesh, I really was starting to sound like Todd.

  Moni scooped up her pom-poms and shook them at me. “Exactly! Welcome to the revolution, bay-bee,” she said before she twirled, stumbled, and landed on the floor.

  “Nice splits.”

  “I’m serious, Bee.” Moni gathered up the pom-poms and gave them another good shake. “This means…”

  I waited for her to finish, but her eyes got that faraway look. What did cheerleading mean, really? It meant walking through the halls in a purple and gold cheerleading uniform. Okay, I guess I could do that. It meant Jack Paulson would be “seeing” me at the games. Oh, I could definitely do that. It meant being invisible was no longer an option. That was tougher. But for Moni, sure, I could do that.

  A thump, thump, whoosh came from the gym, and I felt a lump in my throat. Boys’ basketball was a big deal. No, a huge deal in Prairie Stone. Some towns had football. Up north, it was hockey. But here it was basketball. The school devoted weeklong celebrations to it. Social life revolved around it. Most years a slot in the state tournament was almost a sure thing.

  It was the only reason anyone tried out for the winter cheerleading squad. Cheering for wrestling? Not cool, despite the presence of several hot seniors on the team. Helping out at girls’ gymnastics meets? Please. But basketball. Pep rallies. Banners. The band. The boys on the team. And at the center of it all?

  The cheerleaders.

  Gah. I knew exactly what this meant. It meant all those people, up in the stands, and the boys out on the court. It meant I was going to have to sing, dance, and cheer, in front of everyone.

  While wearing an insanely short skirt.

  3

  From The Prairie Stone High Varsity Cheerleading Guide:

  Part of being good is looking good. Uniforms are provided by Prairie Stone High. Please keep them cleaned and pressed. The team shoe is the Skechers Energy 2 Flings (women’s) in white and silver. No substitutions! And remember, the best addition to your uniform is your smile!

  I stood at my locker with my winter coat buttoned all the way to my neck and took a pre-weekend inventory. German, history, and English books: check. Permission slip for the Victorian holiday field trip: check. A set of purple and gold pom-poms…check? I had no idea how I was going to get these things through the door, never mind tell my parents that I was now a Prairie Stone High School varsity cheerleader.

  I contemplated the possibility of not telling them—ever. I could leave the pom-poms here, sneak my cheerleading outfit to and from school, and cha
nge in the locker room. Then it was just a matter of explaining my sudden interest in basketball, gymnastics, and wrestling. Oh, sure. That would work.

  “Hey, Bethany!” Moni called. “My mom’s here.” I reached for the folder where I kept ideas for my Life at Prairie Stone columns and disturbed a slim paperback near the bottom of the stack: The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Todd had made everyone on the debate team and newspaper staff read it at the beginning of the year.

  A book on military strategy might make sense for the debate team. But the newspaper? Still, maybe something in it would be useful. I gathered everything up, slipped the loops for the pom-poms over my wrist, and ran down the hall. All the while, my mind raced even faster than I did. There had to be a way to get the pom-poms inside the house without my parents noticing.

  In the car, Mrs. Fredrickson’s expression went from disbelief to near ecstasy when she caught sight of the pom-poms. Her blue eyes—just like Moni’s—went wide. “Oh, honey!” Moni’s mom leaned across the seat to hug Moni and the set of pom-poms.

  I didn’t remember her being this excited when Moni made the regional Math League finals last year. Moni was so busy squealing and basking in her mom’s attention that she didn’t say a word to me in the car. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out The Art of War.

  Whoever is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy, will be fresh for the fight; whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted.

  Getting waylaid at the front door with evidence of cheerleader activity was definitely not “first in the field.” Maybe the pom-poms would fit under my coat?

  We stopped at Moni’s house first. When we got to her room, Moni gave her pom-poms a ceremonial shake before arranging them in the place of honor in front of her plaster bust of Archimedes and her larger-than-life-size poster of Orlando Bloom.

  She touched the scroll bar to wake up her laptop. Almost immediately, her IM program pinged.

  “Oh, it’s Brian!” she said. “PQ request. He probably already senses my new cheerleader hotness.”