The Whole Story of Half a Girl (13 page)

After school all the cheerleaders stand in a group at the front of the building waiting to walk over to the football field. My legs jitter with nerves. I can’t believe that I will actually cheer in front of so many strangers. We huddle together, and most of the girls, led by Jess, are looking around for people to talk about. Jess sticks out her chest in her tight cheerleading sweater and makes jokes about this and that girl, this and that boy. Kate doesn’t pay much attention. She’s focused and quiet, picking up her legs one at a time to stretch her hamstrings, whispering her cheers into the crisp fall air. I like her even more for ignoring Jess, and I gladly join her stretching while trying to shove the butterflies back down in my stomach. I hope Kate doesn’t bring up Peter’s party.

This is the time I usually talk to Alisha, except it’s been a while because of cheerleading. She sees me and waves. Then she starts walking over in her big T-shirt and baggy jeans.

“Hi, Sonia, guess what?” she says.

“Hey,” I say, trying to be all mellow. I bend my leg, bring my ankle up to my butt, and hold it there until I feel my muscles burn.

“I finished my book. And I put in all this stuff about the Taj Mahal. I decided that they fall in love there instead of Paris. Want to read it?” She thrusts her thick black notebook out at me.

“Now?” I’m speaking low to her, almost whispering. I’m not used to talking to Alisha in front of all my cheerleading friends, in front of Kate.

Her face crumples and she pulls back her notebook.

“Not now,” she says. “You could take it home.”

“Okay” is all I say. I see Kate’s eyes dart at me and Alisha. Jess grabs Kate’s arm and whispers something in her ear. Alisha holds her notebook out again, waiting. “Can you give it to me tomorrow? I don’t want to bring it to the game. It could get stolen.” This part is actually true.

“Yeah, sure.” Then she takes a deep breath. “So are you ever going to ask your parents if you can come over?” she says, her eyes fierce, hands on hips.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy with cheerleading and homework and—”

“I thought you were different,” she says, and walks away without another word. I glance back at Kate and Jess. Kate’s stretching again and doesn’t look at me.

“What’s up with her clothes?” Jess says. “She looks like a boy.”

I shrug and bend over to touch my toes, staying there as the blood rushes to my head, making me feel a little sick.

The blacktop feels hard yet springy under my feet as we all line up on the track that circles the football field. The players are warming up and mostly parents of the football players are in the bleachers. Jackie’s there too, and she winks at me. Jackie says the best time of her life was when she cheered in high school. It makes me sad to think that the best time in her life was when she was a teenager, and I wonder if being a grown-up is any fun at all.

My parents couldn’t come because of work, but I’m kind of glad. On one hand, I want to show them how cool our pyramids are, and maybe Mom would think I’m doing something that’s actually a real sport, a real performance, just as good as any play. But then again, if my parents were here, my sneakers wouldn’t feel so bouncy.

Kate leads us all through some more stretches. Then we practice toe-touches. I’ve learned how to do a back handspring into a toe-touch. Kate showed me how and now I’m better at it than she is. During the halftime break in the game, we’re supposed to do a big cheer in the middle of the field with a pyramid, and then I get to do a cartwheel back handspring, ending with a toe-touch while everyone stays in the pyramid. Whenever I do it in practice everyone watches quietly, like I’m doing something important. And it does feel important, even if it’s only a few tricks, even if Sam thinks I’m just running around in a silly outfit.

The game starts and the team goes through all the little
cheers on the sidelines. I see Jess out of the corner of my eye and she’s a bit out of step with everyone. It seems like only about five seconds pass before halftime. When we all run out to the field my ankle twists a little, enough to send a shooting pain up my leg.

The cheer goes smoothly and I try to ignore the throbbing. The pyramid isn’t a problem because I just stand on the side, but I’m not sure how my ankle is going to handle a cartwheel, back handspring, and toe-touch. I could fall on my face in front of half the school. Kate could think she has it all wrong, that I’m not special, that I’m just a klutzy weird girl.

Kate gets lifted to the top of the pyramid like she’s a feather. Everyone’s arms and legs are strong and solid. Even the football players pay attention. I clap out the cheer with everyone:

On the last “fight” I run. In a flash I decide not to care about my ankle, or Kate, or Peter Hanson’s party, or my sad dad, or my nervous mom, or Sam, or taking the money from Mom, or the D I got on my vocabulary test, or whether I want to be Jewish or not. All I care about is the way I feel when my feet
hit the ground after the back handspring. The way I pop up into the air, my legs so high they practically make a V. The satisfying sting in my palms after smacking my toes harder than I ever have. It’s a toe-touch for the ages.

Everyone, even Peter Hanson, starts clapping and
whoo-hoo
ing as the whole team runs back to the sidelines. Kate pats me on the back, and to my amazement so do Jess and a few other girls. I can’t feel my ankle anymore. It’s completely numb. I can only feel the smile that stretches across my face so wide, it hurts. Wonder what Mom would think about cheerleading now.

chapter nineteen

The envelope says
Sonia Nadamoony
. I hold the card in my hand, closing and opening it again to make sure it’s real. There are balloons on the front with the word “party” in gold letters. Inside it says:

I receive this invitation four days after the game. I had finally told Kate that I wasn’t invited to Peter’s party, since she asked me again why I wasn’t going. She said Peter probably just didn’t know my last name, because the rest of the cheerleading team had been invited. I know this can’t be true
unless Peter is secretly deaf: Mrs. Langley calls attendance using both first and last names every morning. Kate said she was going to say something to Peter. I said, “No, don’t,” but meant “Please do,” even though I don’t like Peter. Kate somehow knew I really wanted her to say something and now I’m holding this invitation. Maybe my ESP powers have transferred from Sam to Kate.

“Can I go?” I ask Mom. Natasha and I are sharing a bowl of popcorn while Mom is cooking lentil stew. Dad’s working late again and won’t be home for dinner. And he’s leaving for Hong Kong in a week to visit some factory where they actually print the books. This makes Mom stir the lentil stew too fast. Natasha throws a piece of popcorn at me and it bounces off my forehead. I have to throw one back at her, which means she has to throw one back at me. Before I know it, there’s more popcorn on the floor than in the bowl.

“When is it, again?” Mom calls from the stove.

“Next Saturday, I told you,” I say, ducking. A piece of popcorn flies over my head.

“Who is this boy? You never talk about him.”

I take a piece of popcorn, throw it into the air, try to catch it in my mouth, and miss. Mom turns around and sees the popcorn-covered floor.

“Come on, girls,” she says with tired eyes and tight lips. I get down on my knees fast and start to pick it up. Natasha follows.

“Sorry,” I say. I hope I haven’t just blown my chances of going to the party. “He’s a boy in my class. He also plays on the football team. The whole cheerleading team is going.” I don’t tell her the me-not-being-invited, being-invited story.

“A cheerleader going to a football player’s party. It sounds like high school. When did you get so old?” Mom looks at me. Her eyes are softer now. “You can go. I just want to talk to his parents,” she says, stirring some more.

She can’t do that. That’s what parents do for little kids. Didn’t Mom just notice how things were different, how I was older now? I think about Sam and our sleepovers, the Magic 8 Ball, ESP, and camping trips. It suddenly seems so young, so
nursery school
.

“Do you have to?” I say, and then wish I could take back the whine in my voice. Mom hates whining.

“I don’t know these people. You’ll understand when you’re a mother.”

Who knows if I’ll even be a mother? All I know is that I’ll bet a thousand dollars Jackie isn’t calling Peter’s parents. But I’ll take what I can get. Mom and I haven’t talked about the Jewish thing since. We just look at each other funny and talk about stuff that we have to talk about like how much homework I have, when I need a ride to what, and what I want for dinner. When she asked me how the game went, I said, “Pretty good,” and that was it.

I go up to my room and look through my closet for
something to wear to the party. I start grabbing skirts and shirts off their hangers and hold them up in my mirror. Wrong. All my clothes are wrong. Then I see it, way back in the closet under a plastic dry-cleaning bag—my red velvet dress, the one Dad brought back from a trip to London last year. It’s the only present he’s ever bought me without Mom’s help. I’ve worn it only once, to my mom’s cousin’s wedding. It’s fitted on top, with satin trimming on the scoop neck and the edges of the sleeves. The pleated skirt is what my mom calls tea-length, which means it goes all the way down to my ankles but not to the floor. I put it on. It still fits, and it makes me feel like the Indian princess I was named after.

On Thursday, a little over a week before the party, Kate and I walk to the late buses after practice. It’s a beautiful day, not too cold, but crisp and sunny. The leaves have started to fall, leaving big, bright open spots showing through the trees. I blink, wondering when this all happened, all these changes. How did I not notice?

“Do you want to do something tonight?” Kate asks.

“Sure,” I say, even though I know Mom won’t let me.

“How come we never go over to your house?”

I look at her, the late-fall sun making her hair look orange, making her blue eyes even brighter.

“No reason.” Ha, right. Natasha would probably play her
drums the whole time or just be annoying. Mom would be weird and serious and ask Kate too many questions. There would be no Pringles, no mall, no reality TV. And Dad, well, who knows what Dad will be like on any given day? I thought getting a new job would make him feel better, and sometimes he does seem more like himself. Sometimes he doesn’t. Kate would probably want to go right back to her house the minute she stepped in mine.

“Can I? I’m sick of my house,” she says.

“Uh, sure,” I say.

Kate takes out her new sparkly pink cell phone and calls Jackie and asks her to pick her up after dinner. When she’s done she hands it to me.

“Wanna call your mom?”

I take the phone and stare at the rhinestones on the cover. It’s like my hands are frozen. They literally won’t move.

“What’s wrong?” Kate says.

“Nothing,” I say, and snap the phone shut. “You know what, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Okay,” Kate says. “If you’re sure.”

chapter twenty

When we finally arrive, my heart pounds as we head in through the garage door, which no one ever locks.

I walk in down the few stairs leading into the kitchen, Kate following me, and look around. No Mom.

“Wow,” she says. “Your house is so cool. It’s like totally modern and totally old at the same time.”

“Thanks,” I say, not really knowing what she means.

She dumps her backpack on the floor and goes to examine the collection of Buddhas on the shelves behind the kitchen table.

“Sonia,” Mom calls from the hallway. I freeze. She rounds the corner, Natasha trailing behind her holding her drumsticks. Natasha sees us and stops walking.

“Hi, Kate,” Mom says. “I didn’t know you were coming over.” She smiles at her with her mouth, but not her eyes.