Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content (7 page)

Now Flair Fair is the statewide cheerleading competition that Ms. Brookes, our staff adviser, has been talking up for the last few weeks. “This is the best time to really dig in and practice, Jordan,” she had told me after I’d privately asked her why we have so many practices between football and basketball season. Dumb me. I’d stupidly thought we’d get a little break.

“That’s true,” said Betsy Mosler. “
Okay
won’t cut it. Like, we could’ve walked away with first place last year if we’d worked a little harder. JFK wasn’t all that great.”

“They barely beat us,” said Shawna. “That’s why we
cannot
settle for Jordan’s version of ‘okay.’”

I had to literally bite my tongue to keep from responding to that little snipe.
Put on the happy mask
. “Fine,” I finally said. “I’ll try harder.”

“Yeah,” said Shawna. “You better. We don’t need your inexperience dragging us down this year.”

I looked over to Amber now, hoping she might say or do something to give me strength, but she just shrugged and said, “Well, let’s get back at it then. I, for one, have to be out of here by five.”

And so I really did try harder, but it seemed that every time I turned around, Shawna was finding fault with me again. It wasn’t too long before I began to look at the other girls more closely, curious as to whether I was really messing up that badly or not, and that’s when I noticed that several others, including Betsy Mosler and Jenny Brighton, weren’t doing any better than I was. In fact I think they were actually doing worse. Of course, I didn’t dare mention this. I can’t afford to risk any more relationships. Having Shawna dogging my case is bad enough without alienating everyone.

Then, to add insult to injury, after I went to the locker room to shower and change, I couldn’t find my jeans. Not anywhere. It’s like they’d vanished into thin air.

“Anybody seen my jeans?” I asked.

“Having trouble keeping your pants on?” teased Betsy.

I faked a smile. “I’m not the one with that particular problem.” I turned to look at Shawna now and couldn’t help but notice this little glimmer in her eye like she knew something. “Did you take them?” I asked her point-blank.

“I’m sure!” She looked seriously offended now. “Like I would
steal
your jeans, Jordan. Sheesh, get a life.”

“I didn’t say you stole them, Shawna, but maybe you just put them—”

“Hey, don’t go blaming me just because you can’t keep track of your things, Jordan.”

I shook my head and, knowing I was getting nowhere, just pulled on my slightly sweaty practice shorts. “Fine. Whatever.” Then I grabbed my stuff and left. But as I walked out to the parking lot, I was seriously fuming. “Can’t keep track of your things,” I muttered to myself as I furiously searched through my bag for my keys. I’m sure that Shawna meant I couldn’t keep track of Timothy that stupid night when she’d seduced him.

That’s when I realized my car was still parked in the
other
parking lot, which meant I had to walk two more blocks to get there. Arggh! After nearly freezing my rear end off, I finally reached my car in the nearly deserted parking lot that’s right next to the staff lot. Why had I parked here in the first place? But even when I found my car, I realized that I still hadn’t found my keys. So, feeling like a total idiot—is sixteen too young to get Alzheimer’s?—I threw my bag onto the pavement and knelt down, pawing through the various contents a girl needs throughout the course of a day, in a wild and frantic search for my car keys.

But finally it became painfully clear that they really were
not
there. Like my favorite pair of jeans, which weren’t cheap, they had completely and mysteriously disappeared. And it must’ve been like twenty degrees outside, and I was about to turn into an ice cube in my still-damp shorts that I’m sure were starting to freeze to my buns.

So, out of pure frustration, I first kicked my stupid bag and then my poor car. And to my utter and total surprise and dismay, I actually put a small dent in the innocent front fender. Totally infuriated with everyone, including myself, I cut loose with a whole bunch of four-letter expressions I would normally never use, never have used. But it’s like I just needed to get it out.

“Jordan Ferguson!”
said a woman’s voice from behind me. And that’s when I turned to see Ms. Brookes only a few feet away and beside her the vice principal, Mr. Myers.

It’s at times like this that I can almost believe those stories about these guys in India who just internally combust and explode and disappear into a poof of smoke and ashes—because that’s exactly how I felt just then.

“Did we just hear what we thought we heard?” asked Ms. Brookes as she approached me with a very concerned look on her face. Mr. Myers was standing by his car, watching us with what seemed like way too much interest. I was
toast
.

I looked down at the contents of my bag splayed across the parking lot like a mini garage sale and actually considered lying and denying that I’d actually used foul language. Maybe I could make them believe I’d said words that only
sounded
like the profanity I’d just spewed. And even though I’ve always considered myself an honest person, I suddenly wondered why it should even matter anymore. I mean, why should I care about something as small as telling a lie when I slowly seem to be turning into someone else anyway? But then I reminded myself there were two witnesses—and both of them faculty members.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Brookes,” I confessed, glancing uneasily at Mr. Myers and wondering if I should shout out an apology for him to hear as well. “And I would never talk like that normally, but, you see, I’m just having a really, really bad day. First I lost my jeans and then I lost—”

She held up her hand to stop me. “Jordan, there is no excusable reason to talk like that. Now, you know that you signed the cheerleader pledge, promising to conduct yourself in a certain manner worthy of a cheerleader.” She looked over to where Mr. Myers was still standing, waiting, I’m sure, to see if she handled this correctly. “And as you know, cussing and swearing was something that was clearly listed under item number five on the pledge.” She firmly shook her head. “Now even though it may not seem as bad as using drugs or alcohol, it is entirely unacceptable. You girls are supposed to be role models.”

“I know.” I nodded and attempted to look truly contrite, although the truth was I was still totally steamed. Like, I’m sure, doesn’t Ms. Brookes know that Betsy cusses like a sailor half the time? Or that everyone except for me and Jenny Brighton indulges in drinking on a fairly regular basis? The only rule that I don’t personally know of being broken by any cheerleaders is the drug use one. And to be perfectly honest, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Shawna uses something to keep her weight down, because she almost admitted as much to me once back when we were still friends.

“So I’m going to have to put you on probation,” she told me with a sad expression. And for a moment I wondered if I might have gotten off if not for Mr. Myers’ presence.

“What exactly does that mean?” I asked.

“It means that you are suspended from cheerleading for the next two weeks.”

“Okay.” I nodded. I could handle this. After all, the first game wasn’t until early December, and Flair Fair wasn’t until after Christmas. Maybe this wasn’t really such a bad consequence. I attempted a meek smile.

“And that means no practicing as well, Jordan.”

“What?”

“You aren’t allowed to be with the cheerleaders for two weeks.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I am not. Perhaps this will be a good reminder to everyone that we really enforce the standards.” Satisfied, I’m sure, that she had ruined my life, she turned and smiled at Mr. Myers, who was finally getting into his SUV.

“But, Ms. Brookes,” I pleaded with her as he drove away, “that means I won’t know the routines for Flair Fair, not to mention basketball season.”

“I know. It’s a shame too. Somehow the squad will just have to get by without you.” And with that she just walked over to her car and drove away.

Now, you’d think that I would’ve had time to cool off as I walked home from school in the freezing cold wearing my practice shorts, since as fate would have it my cell phone battery was totally dead, but I think I only got madder and madder with each stupid step. I was quickly becoming enraged and felt seriously worried for anyone who crossed my path.

By the time I got home, there was absolutely no reasoning with me. I figured the smart ones would just get out of my way.

“What’s wrong?” asked Leah as I stormed in the back door and threw my bag on the floor.

“Life sucks!” I growled as I pushed my way past her.

Fortunately, she had the good sense not to say anything else, because I think I might’ve done her some serious damage.

“I need a ride to Scouts,” yelled Tommy as soon as he spied me going up the stairs.

“Ask someone else!” I snarled at him.

“But Mom and Dad aren’t here,” he said. “You’re supposed to take me.”

I turned around and glared at him. “I
cannot
take you to Scouts or anywhere else tonight.
So just forget it!”
Then I went into my room and slammed the door so hard that my mirror actually fell off. I couldn’t believe it didn’t break since it would only make sense that this day would have been followed by seven long years of bad luck.

Right now my plan is never to emerge from my room again, because if I do, I am quite certain that I will kill someone—Shawna Frye, to be exact. I have no doubt that she not only stole my boyfriend but also my jeans
and
my car keys. And I seriously wish she were dead.

nine

T
HANK GOODNESS IT’S
F
RIDAY
, I
TOLD MYSELF AS
I
DROVE TO SCHOOL
today. If I could just make it through this day, I would have two blissful days to recover from my increasingly messy life—which is rather ironic, since I totally abhor messes of any kind, particularly when they’re related to me.

Of course, the only reason I had a car to drive today was because my dad drove me back over to the school to get mine last night. That was after my little brother called my parents and told them that I was going totally crazy and that they’d better get home before he called up the mental hospital and asked them to take me away.

I’m sure he thought he had good reason to do this since I was basically flipping out in my room, screaming and throwing things and carrying on like a wild woman—and creating more messes, as it turned out. Pretty much out of character. Actually, it wasn’t quite as bad as it sounded, although I did break a lamp. But it was an old lamp, and I didn’t really care for it anyway.

“It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore,” I had complained as my dad drove me toward school. “My whole life is just totally falling to pieces, and it’s like I can’t do anything to stop it. It’s like it’s all just totally out of control.”

I’d already told him pretty much the whole ugly story while we pigged out on ice cream at O’Grady’s. Okay, I may have left out a few critical things, but a girl’s got to have
some
privacy.

“Sometimes you just need to get perspective,” he told me as he pulled into the high-school parking lot.

“What do you mean?”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand since you’re right in the thick of this now, but believe me, this will all pass. What seems huge and impossible to you today will be just a memory before long. You might even laugh about it someday.”

I turned around in the seat and stared at him like he had a hairy purple wart growing on the tip of his nose. “
Laugh
about it?”

“You might, someday.”

“Yeah, sure.” I reached for the door handle now.

“I know this is hard on you, Jordan, but sometimes these hard things have ways of making us stronger, better people.”

I rolled my eyes at him, thinking he was starting to sound just like Kara Hendricks. “Well, I don’t want to be a stronger or better person, Dad. I just want my old life back.”

He smiled. “I know, honey. Maybe you should just do like the Good Book says and try to take it one day at a time.”

Well, that sounded manageable, so that’s exactly what I decided to do.
Just get through this day
, I told myself as I walked to my first class.

“I hear you’re on probation,” said Ashley when she spotted me heading toward the English department.

I frowned. “How’d the word get out so fast?”

“Ms. Brookes posted a memo for the cheerleaders.”

“Great.” I sighed. “Shawna is probably elated.”

“What happened?”

I told Ashley the sweetened, condensed version, carefully emphasizing my suspicions that Shawna had stolen both my keys and jeans. And Ashley was appropriately indignant. “That is so unfair,” she said as I reached my class.

“Tell me about it.” I just shrugged, playing up my role as innocent victim, figuring I’d better milk this for all it’s worth since the cheerleaders could get seriously mad at me for getting suspended and messing things up for Flair Fair.

“Well, I’m going to tell the others,” she said.

I wanted to hug her and say, “Thank you, thank you!” but instead I continued to play the hopeless fatalist. “It won’t change anything.”

“Well, it’s just
not
fair.”

Throughout the day, I got a mixture of sympathy and irritation from the girls. Some—influenced by Shawna, I’m sure—believed my stupidity in the parking lot was going to cost them first place at Flair Fair. Others felt, like Ashley, that the whole scenario was totally unfair. Amber fell somewhere in the middle.

“We all know that everyone breaks the rules
sometimes
,” she told me at lunch. “The thing is, you have to be smart about it, Jordan. You don’t break the rules on the school grounds, and you never break the rules when Ms. Brookes or any faculty member is in the vicinity.”