A Non-Blonde Cheerleader in Love (28 page)

I swallowed hard and looked around at my friends. Never had I seen so much misery and anger.

“You guys coming?” he asked.

Instantly, Joe and Steven were on their feet. The three of them trudged out together, leaving the rest of us to clean up the mess. Unfortunately, it seemed like there wasn’t a cheerleader among us who had a single clue where to start.

16

Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I’m an eternal optimist. Or maybe I just loved the guy. But whatever the reason, after I left school that afternoon, I went directly to Daniel’s house, do not pass “Go,” do not collect two hundred dollars. I felt so bad for what we’d done to him, I had to try to apologize again. Even if I was still a little bit angry about the slumber party and the props box, what we had done that day had been so much worse. Besides, we had to start somewhere trying to fix this thing.

At least I thought we did. Hopefully he felt the same way.

As I walked up the driveway to his house, I felt so unwelcome, I kept waiting for a pit bull to come running around the side of the house and attack. Or for someone to fire a warning shot from one of the upstairs windows. But neither of those happened and soon enough I was reaching for the doorbell, shaking so much that I actually missed the button and jammed my finger into the wall. I got it on the second try.

Moments later the curtain on the side window was drawn aside and Daniel peeked out. He paused for a moment, then let the curtain drop. I half expected my heart to burst out and fall into my hands. Is that where that expression comes from?
She came with her heart in her hands?

Kind of gross when you think about it.

It took so long for the door to open, I half thought he’d decided to just leave me there. Not that I could blame him. But then, finally, the doorknob turned.

And I was face-to-face with Daniel’s mother. All five-foot-ten of her. I suppose you had to be that big to handle giving birth to, and then raising, four football-playing boys. Daniel was the baby and he was at least six feet tall.

But wait, what was going on here? Did I just hallucinate? Had I or had I not seen Daniel in the window? Had he really sent his mother to get rid of me?

This was not a good sign for the future of our relationship.

“Hi there, hon,” Mrs. Healy said. The slight Southern accent left over from her girlhood in Alabama gave her voice a natural soothing quality. She also threw in a sympathetic head tilt. My first real clue that I was getting nowhere near my maybe-boyfriend.

Ugh. My maybe-boyfriend. Again. How had we gone from I-love-yous to maybe-ness in just a few weeks?

“Uh . . . hi,” I said, feeling like a clueless idiot. An itty-bitty little clueless idiot who was shrinking smaller by the second. “Is . . . Daniel here?”

“I’m sorry, Annisa, but he doesn’t really feel like talkin’ right now,” she said, in a conciliatory tone that made me think of nurses and hospitals and really bad news. She leaned forward and whispered, “I think he just needs some time to cool off. You know how boys can be.”

No. I didn’t. Not really. Maybe I should ask her to give me lessons. Having raised four of them, she could be like my guy guru. Teach me, O wise one.

“Uh . . . sure,” I said, backing away. “Can you just . . . just tell him I’ll see him at the game?” I asked.

“Sure thing, hon,” she said with a kind smile. A kind smile that made me think she knew something that I didn’t. Like how Daniel was never going to speak to me again.

“Thanks,” I said.

Then I turned and ran before I ended up weeping in front of my maybe-boyfriend’s mother.

 
That night, the squad completely sucked. I mean, we sucked like we had never sucked before. After the first quarter Tara called the “Let’s Go” cheer and half the squad started doing a newish cheer we’d learned that started with the words “Let’s go” while the other half launched into the classic “Let’s Go” cheer. We ended up shouting over one another in a garble of messed-up chants, and stepping on each other’s toes as we stumbled through opposing formation changes. Then Lindsey threw up a high V when she should have low-V-ed and punched Karianna right in the face.

Although I’m pretty sure that one was on purpose.

Coach shook her head as we jogged back off the court. “Have you all forgotten this is West Wind?” she whispered, leaning forward in her seat. “Get it together!”

I glanced down the bleachers at our rivals’ side and saw their squad snickering and pointing. Was it wrong that I was hoping that particular portion of our gym ceiling might spontaneously cave in?

“It’s a little late to be trying to get it together now,” Chandra whispered, taking a sip of water from a bottle she kept on the bleacher between her feet.

“Seriously,” I replied.

Our pregame meeting with Coach hadn’t gone exactly as she’d hoped. When she had asked us what our solution for the team was, no one had said a word. Not even Tara or Terrell. I had just stared down at my pleats until she had finally thrown her hands up and left us to stretch. Notch up one more disappointment on our long belt of disappointments.

Throughout the second quarter, no one felt like cheering. We were supposed to do chants almost continuously, but Coach had to keep whispering Tara’s name to get her to call the cheers. The basketball team wasn’t helping matters much. They looked like a bunch of amateurs out there, turning the ball over, muffing passes and slamming every potential three-pointer right off the backboard. Meanwhile, the West Wind Dolphins might as well have just stepped off the bus from Shaq camp. Every time they got the ball, it was a swish fest. Three-pointer . . . swish. Layup . . . swish. Flying acrobatic dunk, accompanied by foot to the face of the Sand Dune guard . . . jam, bam, ice pack. By the time the half was over, we were down by twenty points.

“All right, come on, you guys,” Tara said as we stood up to take center court for the halftime cheer. “Let’s show these people what we can do.”

I looked at Daniel as he jumped down to the floor. He did not look at me. Not that I was surprised. All night he had been freezing me out. In fact, the air between us could have probably been chipped up and used for slushies. And I was supposed to let this person toss me into the air? Somehow I wasn’t feeling it.

At least Coach had decided to do a fairly simple cheer at halftime. No huge pyramids, no major throws. Just cupies on the last run-through. One stunt to hit. Apparently she knew how to hedge her bets.

I stood in formation and faced the crowd. It felt like everyone was on the edge of their seats, just waiting for something interesting—anything at all—to happen. Not that I could blame them. After that pep rally, I would have been salivating for more insanity too.

“SDH!” Tara called. “Ready?”

“Okay!

S! D! H!

S! D! H!

Who’s the team that’s gonna win?”

I crouched down in front of my laminated “H” sign.

“S!”

Phoebe thrust the S over her head.

“D!”

Sage thrust the D over her head.

“H!”

My turn. I thrust the H up.

“Who’s the team we’re cheering for?”

“S! D! H!” The crowd shouted back at us as we raised our signs again. I smiled. Okay. This was good. Crowd participation. No mess-ups so far. We even sounded pretty loud and energetic.

Maybe all was not lost.

“Who’s the team that’s gonna win?”

“S! D! H!”

I backed toward Daniel and handed the sign off to Jaimee, who was staying floor bound for this one. Chandra and Autumn took the other signs.

“Come on, say it loud and proud!”

“S!”

Phoebe went up into her cupie . . . then squealed and came right back down. The entire crowd gasped. Joe caught her awkwardly and she shouted in pain, crumpling to the floor as she clutched her ankle. The damage was done. We probably should have stayed on point, but several squad members turned around to look, fearing the worst, and now our timing was all thrown off.

“D!” Tara and a few of the more conscientious cheerleaders shouted.

Sage and Terrell didn’t even try their cupie. Coach Holmes’ head hung.

“Are we doing this?” Daniel said in my ear.

I just nodded. We had to save the cheer. We had to do something!

“H!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

I went up and Daniel caught my feet. Solid. I thrust my hands into a high V and grinned. The few people in the stands who hadn’t already covered their faces with their hands gaped at me. The only cheerleader still cheering. On the floor, the rest of the squad was in shambles.

And then they started to boo. They actually started to boo. And the longer I was up there, the louder the noise grew.

“Um. I think I should come down now,” I said through my forced grin.

“Okay. One, two,” Daniel said.

We cradled out and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. But instead, the second I was down, I jumped out of Daniel’s arms and ran to check on Phoebe with the rest of the squad.

“Are you okay?” I asked, crouching on the floor as boos and jeers continued to rain down on us.

“Yeah. I think I may have just sprained it,” Phoebe said, wincing.

“I can’t believe they’re booing us,” Sage said. “We’re national champions. Hello?”

“I think that’s
why
they’re booing us,” Chandra said. “They expect a little more from us than
this.”

We took it all in, the squad gathered in a clump on the floor. Our signs tossed aside. Poms everywhere. Chandra was right. We were a huge disappointment. After leaving Daniel’s house that afternoon, I felt like I had hit my lowest low. Now I knew there was always somewhere lower.

“Hey, Sand Dune!”

We all looked up to see the West Wind High captain sauntering by us with her squad in tow. Their green-and-white uniforms had glittering letters across the front and the captain had worn green glitter eye shadow to match. The overall look was very Wicked Witch of the West.

“Nice routine,” the girl said. “Really hot. Did you practice the part where you all fall on your faces or does that just come naturally to you?”

“Back off, Jenna,” Tara said.

“Oooh. Or what? You’ll sic your men on me?” Jenna said, raising both hands. “Somehow I’m not that concerned,” she added, looking the guys over with one eyebrow raised, like they were just so lame. Then she turned on her heel and walked out into the lobby, taking her band of flying monkeys with her.

Like I said. Always somewhere lower.

 
Friday night, my mother and I walked out of our house with our winter jackets on. A cold snap had finally hit Sand Dune and we had been forced to unpack the coats and gloves. Yes, gloves. Never thought those things would see the light of day again. Anyway, it was too cold and too dark for me to walk to school to catch the fan bus to K.C.’s latest match, so Mom had offered to drive me. My hand had just reached for the door handle on her car when a pair of headlights swung into the driveway.

Honda Civic headlights. Daniel Healy’s headlights.

And I was the proverbial deer caught in them.

“Hon?” my mom said, her breath making steam in the cold air.