The Geek Girl's Guide to Cheerleading Read online

  “Come on,” he said. “Everyone’s waiting.”

  “Everyone?”

  He tugged at my tray, trying to pull me forward, but my Skechers had excellent traction and we went nowhere. “Bethany, come on,” he said. “It’s Moni and…and everyone. Wait till you see.”

  I let Brian lead me by the cafeteria tray. What choice did I have? As soon as we reached the table, the reason I hadn’t spotted Moni earlier became clear.

  It was like that scene from Gone with the Wind, the one with Scarlett O’Hara surrounded by all those men at the picnic. There was Moni, a blond, curly-haired cheerleader version of the perfect Southern belle, enclosed in a circle of adoring geek boys. She turned to one, then another, positively beaming.

  “Hey, guys!” Brian said. “Look who I found.” He sounded like he’d just returned from an Amazon quest with some sort of treasure. Three of the boys in front of me scattered, leaving their chairs empty.

  “Yo, Bethany!” a boy I knew only as Rad Thad said. “Mine doesn’t tip.” To demonstrate, he ground the chair legs into the linoleum. I picked Thad’s untippable seat, and he did a fist-pumping thing that might have been embarrassing—if I hadn’t been so flattered.

  For once no one got into an argument about the latest Dungeons & Dragons campaign. No one mentioned the symbolism in Naruto, either. Instead one boy shyly showed me his manga drawings. I compared notes from Independent Reading with a second boy. He whispered how Pride and Prejudice was secretly one of his favorite books, then begged me not to mention it. He had his “street cred” to think of. I put my hand over my heart and promised. A third boy asked how my latest Life at Prairie Stone column was going.

  Maybe Moni was right. Maybe there was something about donning cheerleading uniforms that transformed us. We were celebrities. Okay, so we were nerd celebrities, but still…

  Just as I was thinking I could get used to it, Todd’s shadow fell across the table. He clutched a thick book to his chest and glowered with all the charm of Darth Vader. “Your column is past due,” he said to me. “The rest of you, impromptu debate practice, Little Theater.”

  A few kids looked his way but didn’t appear all that enthralled about either debate or practice. When no one snapped to attention, Todd added, “Now.”

  Rad Thad jumped up and ran, but toward the soda machine and not out the cafeteria door. When he returned, he handed Moni a fresh Diet Coke.

  Todd folded his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. “I said, Little Theater. Now.” This time only Brian glanced at Todd, and he motioned for him to sit.

  “If anyone is interested in doing something serious,” Todd declared, “something real, you know where I’ll be.”

  “Todd—,” I began. I was about to explain about my Life at Prairie Stone column, but Todd blasted me with a killer look, one that held every ounce of disgust he could muster.

  “I said something serious, something real, Reynolds.” With that he spun, took a few long strides, and collided with Rick Mangers.

  Everyone at Prairie Stone knew Rick, even if they didn’t really know him. He was senior class royalty of the highest rank. Todd stammered an apology, but Rick wasn’t listening. Instead he pushed Todd out of the way, sending him careening into a garbage can. The book Todd was carrying toppled inside. Todd blinked, then rooted through garbage while Rick laughed—or did until a group of girls strolled by, then Rick followed. Todd’s book, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire: Volumes 1–3, was streaked with ketchup that looked like blood. He turned and marched out of the cafeteria. Without thinking, I sprang up to go after him.

  Brian put a hand on mine. “Don’t,” he said. “He’s so pissed right now, he’ll probably smear that ketchup on you, then go back through the line for mustard.”

  I stared after Todd and willed him to turn around. This space, the geek table and its comforting, abiding acceptance, belonged to him—and him to it. There was no skirt short enough to change that.

  That night I tucked the pom-poms under my arm and took the school steps two at a time. The wind lifted my long winter coat. Icy air whooshed straight up my legs and made my breath catch in my throat. I turned at the doors, in time to see the brake lights on our ancient Volvo flicker, then Mom was gone. For a minute, I felt empty, despite the pancakes we’d eaten for dinner—something Mom did only for special occasions.

  Moni stood alone inside the lobby, pom-poms clutched in one hand. The slap of mats landing on the floor and the clank of bleachers rolling out echoed from the gym.

  “Where’s the rest of the squad?” I asked.

  “You got me.” From her coat pocket, Moni pulled the cheer schedule. “There’s supposed to be six of us here: Kaleigh, three seniors, and us.”

  “So what do we do now?” We looked at each other. Both of us had been counting on the seniors to help break us in.

  What the Prairie Stone High wrestling team lacked in student support, it made up for in parental sponsorship. Tons of moms, dads, and grandparents filed in to cheer on the boys.

  “Hey, there’s Mrs. Dunne,” Moni said. “My mom knows her.” She dashed off but returned a minute later, looking more confused than before. “Mrs. Dunne says wrestling doesn’t have cheerleaders. She looked at me like I was crazy.”

  So much for counting on the seniors. I peeked at Moni’s cheer schedule, although I already knew it by heart. No cheerleaders? That didn’t make sense. Dread crept into my stomach, and it was like that dream I always had around final exams. The one where I was late for a test and couldn’t find the classroom. Wrong place. Wrong time. Just plain wrong.

  We inched inside the gym. Two young girls grinned up at us. One reached out to ruffle the gold and purple fringe of our pom-poms when Moni and I walked by.

  Otherwise, we really could’ve been invisible. Parents rushed by us without a glance. The coach turned his back on us as we approached. The wrestling team huddled in one corner, stealing looks at the two of us. At least that meant we weren’t totally see-through.

  A lone boy wearing a Prairie Stone High Athletics sweatshirt over his purple uniform stood and turned in our direction. A second later I saw who it was. Rick Mangers. He walked straight for us. My thoughts went to the cafeteria earlier that day, and my heart rate doubled. This couldn’t be good.

  Rick put an arm around each of our shoulders. “Ladies, perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

  I waited one beat, and then another. Between the two of us, Moni was always the one to talk to guys first. But tonight her wide-eyed stare and open mouth made her look like she was hypnotized.

  Uh-oh. Like I said, not good.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, see, we’re just not sure what to do. I mean, we’re new to this cheering thing and…we’ve never been to a wrestling game before. When do the cheerleaders usually get here?”

  “They’re called meets, and I’ve been coming to them since my oldest brother was on the team,” he said. “Believe me, no one’s ever cheered before.”

  “You’re kidding.” I looked to Moni for support, but she continued to stare, her eyes slightly glazed. I pried the schedule from her hands and pushed it toward Rick.

  He released me then, but kept his arm around Moni.

  Double uh-oh.

  “I can tell you this,” he said, scanning the roster. “The rest of the squad won’t show. You might as well go home.”

  In theory, I suppose we could have. That seemed to be the unofficial cheering procedure for unpopular sports. Sure, we could call Sheila to ask for help—but ratting out the others on the squad? Probably a bad idea.

  “What,” I said, surprised at the words coming from my mouth, “what if we stayed?” After all, no one knew unpopular like me and Moni.

  Moni snapped out of her stupor and nodded.

  A strange look crossed Rick’s face, but this one I understood. He was impressed. “You want to stay?” he asked.

  This time we both nodded. Moni even managed to shake her pom-poms a bit.

&n
bsp; “Well, in that case…” He led us over to the other boys, who let out a cheer of their own. While a few freshmen played keep-away with the pom-poms, Rick covered the basics: Never block a parent’s view, especially a wrestling dad’s view. And never slap the mat. Never. One of the wrestlers might think it was the referee.

  Rick retrieved our pom-poms, walked us to the far side of the gym, and gestured to a corner where the yellow mat ended and the hardwood began.

  “You should be out of the way here,” he said. “I’d better go warm up.” He strolled away, pulling off his sweatshirt as he went. I had no idea one boy could have so many muscles.

  “Whoa,” breathed Moni. “He’s hot.”

  Yeah, I thought. And he knows it.

  “He was totally nice, too,” Moni continued, still breathless. “Can you believe they call him Rick the Prick?”

  Actually, I could. “Shh. Don’t say that.” With our luck, his mom was behind us in the stands. But it was true: Rick did have that awkward nickname. And according to gossip, he didn’t just know about the name, he embraced it.

  “Didn’t you see what he did to Todd today?” I asked.

  Moni gave me a confused look.

  “In the cafeteria?” I prompted. “Talk about being a—”

  “You know,” Moni said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Speaking of nicknames, there’s something about that wrestling outfit….” She gave me that sly half grin.

  I couldn’t believe this. “What about Brian?” I asked.

  “What about him?”

  “I thought you and—”

  “In real life?”

  “No, in la-la land, or whatever you call it.”

  “Oh, in the game he’s a serious mack daddy. But then he stops over the other night to return a book he borrowed and I think, cool, the boy finally figured out an excuse to spend some nonpixelated time with me, right?” Moni rolled her eyes. “He spent the whole time talking to my mom.” She shook her head. Poor Moni.

  And poor Brian. Ever since the two of them went from just friends to…whatever they were…I could tell he didn’t know what to say or how to act around her. The game was probably an easy way out.

  “What about the wand?” I asked. “That was something.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought. But tell me this.” Moni looked grim. “Where is he right now?”

  If he were as smooth as Rick the Prick, he’d be in the bleachers behind us, supporting Moni’s cheerleading debut. Okay, this was Brian. Smooth had never exactly been a quotient in his formula. But if he wasn’t here, where was he?

  “Home?” I guessed. “The library? Over at Todd’s?”

  “Ding, ding, ding,” said Moni. “He’s gone over to the Dark Side.”

  “What?”

  “Todd got to him. I went online before dinner and suddenly Brian’s telling me that the wand is just a loan.” She huffed in disgust.

  A staticky version of “The Star Spangled Banner” began playing, and everyone stood. Fixing Moni’s love life would have to wait. When the song ended, two boys walked onto the mat, taking stances opposite each other.

  “What exactly are we supposed to do now?” I asked Moni. “Do we cheer?”

  “I guess. But what?”

  During all the prep for Friday’s big game, I’d memorized dozens of cheers. Problem was, only two were for wrestling. “Let’s do that takedown one,” I said.

  “Ready?” Moni whispered. “Okay.”

  Together we chanted, “Takedown! Takedown! Two points!”

  There was a takedown, all right. But judging by the crowd’s response, it was for the other team.

  Moni cringed. “Bad timing?”

  “How are we supposed to know when to cheer it?”

  “I don’t know…the Internet?” Moni offered.

  I gave Moni a quick look before raising my eyebrows at the new and highly unusual position the wrestlers had taken. “The what?”

  “I found a cheer site the other day while I was surfing at my dad’s.”

  “A cheerleading site?” I didn’t know which was more disturbing, that such sites actually existed, or that Moni was surfing them in her spare time.

  “I’ll print some cheers off tomorrow. I think they had a whole page for wrestling.”

  After a moment—and another takedown—I asked, “Just one page?”

  “Yeah.”

  That would help. But really, knowing what the boys were doing out there on the mat would be even better. “You know what they should have at cheerleading tryouts?” I said. “A quiz on—”

  “On all the sports!” Moni’s face lit up. “Exactly! How else can you know when to cheer?” To emphasize her point, she slapped the mat.

  Moni’s eyes went huge. I sucked in my breath. That creeping dread? It returned, only stronger. At any moment a wrestling dad would probably drag us from the gym by our hair ribbons. We waited, but aside from a quick glare from the boys on the mat, nothing happened. The first match ended, and I couldn’t tell if we had won or lost.

  Somehow, Moni and I worked up a routine. “Victory, victory, that’s our cry!” was an old standby, and we took turns giving each boy a personalized cheer as he left the mat. “Way to go, Logan!” “Way to go, Steve!” “Way to go, Rick!”

  I was in the middle of a straddle jump for a senior named Mark when Jack Paulson walked through the gym doors. My ankle crumpled on the landing, and I knocked into Moni.

  “What the—” Moni paused, then squealed. “Oh, my God!”

  Jack climbed the bleachers and selected a spot where his long legs could stretch out unhindered. From a white paper bag, he pulled mini-cheeseburger after mini-cheeseburger and washed them all down with a half-gallon carton of milk.

  “No way anyone can eat that much,” said Moni.

  “I think it’s skim milk,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, sure.” She gave me a look and crossed her eyes. “That makes all the difference.”

  “What’s he doing here, anyway?”

  “I heard he shows up at the girls’ basketball games too.” The kids in Math League were huge gossips, and Moni heard things before the rumor mill even had a chance to get rolling. “He’s just cool like that.”

  I tried to turn my attention back to the match, but Jack was always there, teasing my peripheral vision. His dark hair, his bright red Chuck Taylor All Stars. A flash of milk carton. Okay, so maybe that part was a little gross. It was also…endearing. So much for Todd’s God of Mount Prairie Stone theory—Jack Paulson wasn’t some deity, he was a mortal boy who drank from milk cartons. He probably left the toilet seat up too.

  But Jack never left his heavenly perch in the stands, not even when the meet ended and others around him were pulling on their coats. A couple of skinny wrestlers flashed us smiles as they headed for the locker room. Rick sauntered past and gave us a thumbs-up. He scaled the bleachers and plopped down next to Jack.

  I grabbed Moni by the wrist. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “But—” Moni pulled away. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

  “Not us.”

  “Then why are they staring? Gah, don’t look.” Moni bent down, pretending to tie her shoe. “Okay, now look. Are they still staring?”

  I shook my pom-poms as though the fringe was in desperate need of fluffing. Mid-shake, I darted a quick glance toward the stands. Rick and Jack were, in fact, looking our way.

  “Yeah.” The pom-poms slipped in my hands. “They’re still—oh, my God. Jack’s standing up. Hurry, let’s get out of here.”

  Instead, Moni switched to her other shoe. “Just in case. Wouldn’t want to trip on my laces.”

  “Stalling is so middle school,” I muttered.

  Jack strolled forward. “Hey.” He raised the milk carton in a toast. “Nice job tonight.”

  Moni sprang up, shoes apparently in order. “Thanks! Did you see Bethany’s jump?”

  He nodded. “A little trouble on the re-entry?”

  Great. More
humiliation. But Jack looked seriously concerned as he asked about my ankle. Seriously concerned.

  My heart stopped.

  It didn’t start up again until he asked twice if I was okay. I gulped, looking to Moni, hoping she’d rescue me. But Moni opened her mouth to speak, then froze. A half second later, Rick came up behind Jack.

  “So, Paulson,” said Rick. “You tell ’em?”

  Moni seemed to be in a Rick Mangers–induced coma. “Tell us what?” I choked out.

  “About the bet,” Rick said, and Jack frowned. “You know, the one about—”

  Jack stared at his shoes. “C’mon, man, that’s not—”

  “Fair to tell them about it?” Rick interrupted.

  Jack looked up, panic on his face.

  “I don’t remember any rules that said we couldn’t, come to think of it.” Rick ruffled Moni’s pom-poms. “I don’t remember any rules at all. Ladies.” He held out his hands to indicate both himself and Jack. “We have this bet.”

  Jack immediately went back to inspecting his shoes, but Rick continued on, completely at ease. Like I said, he was smooth.

  “One of us thinks you’ll be here to cheer for the next home meet,” Rick explained, “and one of us thinks this was an…”

  Jack looked up again. Something Rick said had seemed to erase the tension from his jaw and around his eyes. He smiled. “An anomaly,” he added. “One of us thinks this was an anomaly,” he clarified, tilting his head toward Rick and winking.

  “Ooh. Big word for a jock.” Rick gave Jack a shove. “You studying for the SATs or something?” He reached out and caught one of Moni’s ringlets and watched it spiral around his finger. The curl sprang back when he let go, and continued bouncing as Rick walked toward the locker room.

  With Rick gone, Moni regained her composure—and her voice. “So what did you bet?”

  “Fifty bucks.”

  Fifty dollars? That was a lot, or at least, it was a lot to me. I was sure it was to Jack as well.

  “Our mere presence is worth fifty dollars…,” Moni mused. “Money in your pocket.”

  Jack smiled, but there was that unreadable look again.

  I fought to connect my vocal cords to my brain. “And all we have to do is show up?” I asked.