Part of me doesn't really know why we feel that way, though. I honestly think our friendship is strong enough to survive anything, but neither one of us seems to want to take the chance.
One thing's for sure, though: once I tell my mom I'm joining the squad, there's no turning back. It would be like dangling a raw piece of meat in front of a pit bull, then cupping it in my arms like a football and taking off with it. She would chase me down and shred me to pieces.
The thing is, my mom and cheerleading go together like peanut butter and jelly. She started cheering as a child and was even captain of her high school squad for two years in a row. Ever since I was a child, she's dreamed of me becoming a cheerleader, too. So every weekend when I was little, she would cue up a new video her mom had taken of her cheering at a football or basketball game, pop popcorn, gather some candy and Cokes, and get me to sit and watch it with her, obviously trying to spark my interest in becoming a cheerleader. I knew what she was doing, but I simply showed up every weekend for the snacks.
The main problem with me becoming a cheerleader, aside from the fact that it's just not my thing, is that I'm fairly clumsy, despite my "little athletic build that's perfect for cheering," as my mom puts it. And I think I would probably cause more chaos than good on a squad.
So year after year, much like the situation with my genius, I've disappointed her by not becoming a cheerleader. This is why I'm fairly certain that if I tell her I'm joining the squad, she'll probably forget about my intelligence altogether. But at the end of the day, I'm simply choosing the lesser of the two evils, and I'll still be miserable.
After digging through my bag to find my keys, I walk in the front door to find Hailey sitting on the couch with a suspicious looking grin on her face. When she suddenly notices my approach, she whips her head around, the grin disappearing faster than I can blink.
I stand there looking at her for a minute, as if she's a common criminal who just committed a felony.
"What did you do?" I ask, fully aware of her history of brutally blackmailing Carson for no better reason than because "I'm smarter than him and I can," as she once put it.
She stares at me, the sneaky, proud grin plastered on her face now replaced with a worried look of denial. "Nothing, I'm just watching TV," she insists, knowing I know better.
I slowly nod. "Where's Carson?"
"I think he went upstairs," she replies, half-heartedly pointing that way.
Having no hard evidence, coupled with the fact I have a bag full of my own problems at the moment, I decide to let it go for now.
"Okay?" I give her a sideways look, letting her know I'm fully aware something just went down, but I don't have the energy or the will to continue the investigation at this moment. I walk over to her and lean across the back of the couch to kiss the top of her head. "How was your day?"
"It was okay. I have a spelling test tomorrow," she says, flipping through the channels on the 72" flat screen she can never get enough of.
"Oh, okay," I nod. "Do you need any help?"
"Nope, it's easy," she says confidently.
Hailey rarely ever needs my help. She's too smart for her own good, but I always want to make sure she knows I'm here for her.
"Okay, well, good luck." I pat her head as I walk off.
"Thanks!" she shouts.
A huge knot forms in my stomach as I make my way to the kitchen door, knowing the conversation that waits on the other side. And as I make those few steps, I once again question my decision: is this really the right thing to do? Can I realistically handle becoming a cheerleader and going along with everything it entails? Summer Stevens, short skirts, school spirit, and, umm?CHEERING?
I must be crazy. It's surely not easy for me to wrap my head around, but it looks like I'm just going to have to do it. On the bright side, as Becca pointed out earlier, it might push me a step closer to Bryson, which is definitely a positive.
As I open the kitchen door, the overwhelming scent of my absolute favorite meal hits me like a brick wall.
"Lasagna pasta? Yummy!" I shriek, my eyes all wide and hungry. It's my moms specialty.
"Yep," Mom laughs as she stands over the stove, carefully distributing shredded cheese over the top just before putting the dish in the oven. "Carson and Hailey already ate, but your dad will be here in a minute."
"Cool," I reply. I take my seat at the table, having no intention of being the conversation-starter in any way, shape, or form. In a perfect world, my mom would forget all about the situation, and I would sit here and eat my very large plateful of lasagna pasta in complete silence. Then I could race upstairs to text Becca the good news that I don't have to reveal my genius, or become a cheerleader. But sadly, there's a better chance of Hell freezing over.
"So, how was your day?" Mom asks, leaning back against the counter.
I'm actually dying to tell her about my run-in with Summer, but I can't because first of all, the full, true story can't be told without revealing Becca's dark side. And second, it would surely spark conversation about my genius, which once again, I'm not willing to do.
"It was okay," I shrug. She nods silently, waiting for more information.
Then, out of nowhere, my dad walks in, almost as if he was listening on the other side of the door. Seriously, his timing couldn't have been more perfect.
"Whoa, smells like your favorite in here!" Dad exclaims as he sneaks a peek at the oven, then at me. "Hey, sweetie." He walks over and kisses my forehead.
"You better hurry up and get some, because I'm gonna eat it all," I joke.
He chuckles and points at me. "I don't doubt that for a second."
As I watch him walk over and kiss my mom, I seriously consider running out the kitchen and up to my room, then coming back down to eat later after everyone is asleep. But I know the problem will only follow me upstairs, so I decide to stay put and just get it over with. As I make my way to the fridge to get my already-poured glass of milk--that sounds horrible, I know--my mom fixes our plates and sets them on the table.
"So," my mom begins. I load a massive pile of lasagna pasta on my fork before violently shoving it into my mouth, desperately trying to drown my problems in this delicious meal. I look at her as she takes her seat, nervously waiting for her to continue her statement.
"You only ended up missing two problems on your math test today, right?" she asks, glancing up at me with a casual smile.
Why does she torture me like this? I fully prepared myself just now for her to kick off the conversation regarding my genius, and now I'm worried I won't be able to do it again. I look up at her as I load my fork a second time. "Yep, I got a 94. And Becca told me she thinks she did well, too." I shove in another mountain of pasta.
"Well, that's good," my dad says, with Mom nodding in agreement. "So did you help her out, or did she pretty much understand everything?" he asks, reaching for his glass of milk.
This slow build-up to the elephant in the room is exhausting me at this point. I'm even starting to feel nauseous, which is making my delicious-looking plate of food now work against me. I'm so close to throwing my fork down and blurting out the issue myself, but I can't bring myself to do it. So I just sit here, trying to look relaxed while my nerves wreak havoc on me, as I respond calmly to my dad. "I helped her a little bit last night--"
"Well, speaking of that," my mom interrupts. "Your dad and I discussed it this morning after you left?"
My heart drops into my stomach as she pauses to carefully put her fork down and wipe her mouth with her napkin. I thought I was ready for this, but not even close.
My mom continues. "We want you to go ahead and reveal your genius tomorrow at school," she says firmly, as if the decision has already been set in stone. "Or if you want, I'll go up there and talk with your teachers and principal about it. Whatever you're more comfortable with. But we feel this is what's best for you, and it needs to happen," she says pointedly, as if I don't have a choice in the matter anymore.
I sit he
re completely stunned as I lower my eyes, trying to process what my mom just said. I know I've really disappointed her the past few years, but I honestly never thought she would force me into this so abruptly. I guess she just feels it's gone on for too long, and she's probably well aware at this point that I won't reveal it unless I'm given no other choice. But still, I didn't think it would go like this. And when she says "we decided," I question my dad's level of involvement. Probably the only decision he made was to agree with her.
I can feel Mom's eyes on me as I stare at my plate, trying to gather my thoughts. Suddenly the lump in my throat, along with the nauseous feeling in my stomach, strangely begins to fade away. Those feelings are replaced with a slight feeling of anger, which is completely unfamiliar territory for me. I feel as though I'm fighting for my life in a way, and now that I'm being forced to reveal my genius, joining the cheerleading squad is looking like a sunny beach vacation. It makes my decision very clear.
My mom won't know what hit her. She just popped me with a light jab, but I'm about to nail her with a roundhouse right and throw her all off balance.
"Well," I shrug, calmly scraping my lasagna pasta into a giant pile, "I was actually going to sign up Friday to join the cheerleading squad."
Now, I know this only happens in movies, but my mom actually loses complete control of her fork as she's raising it to her mouth, scattering elbow macaroni all over the table as it crashes down. Her eyes widen to the size of golf balls. "What? Are you serious?" she asks, in complete shock as she hops up to get some paper towels.
I look over at my dad who is now glaring at me, his head tilted as if to say "I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work."
I stare him down, as if to say in response, "I'll come over there and hurt you if you open your mouth."
Dad is the one variable at the moment who could potentially throw my plan off course. But due to the fact he's not as adamant as my mom about me revealing my genius, along with the bitch-slap I just delivered to his face with my eyes, I'm thinking he'll probably just kick back and go with the flow.
"Yeah, I mean, I was going to, you know," I begin as they both finish wiping up the last bit of runaway pasta. "But you're probably right, though; I should reveal my genius and move on from high school."
She might as well have been wiping up the pieces of her shattered world instead of that pasta. As she takes her seat, now staring at the table in thought just as I was a minute ago, confusion looms on her face and chaos in her thoughts. An extremely important, massive decision has now infected her brain: should I do what I feel is best for my daughter and make her reveal her genius? Or let her stay in high school and fulfill my dream of her becoming a cheerleader?
There's no doubt in my mind which one she will choose. Now it's my best move to just stay quiet while I finish eating and let her self-destruct. I can see the smoke rising from her ears as I frequently peek up at her, and part of me almost feels guilty for putting her through this. But she left me no choice.
As I get up and make my way to the sink, I'm actually a little surprised she's gone this long without saying a word. But as I rinse my plate, I see her repeatedly glance my way from the corner of my eye. She's dying to speak, but it may take her some time to figure this one out.
Suddenly, she turns sideways in her chair to face me as I turn off the water and dry my hands.
"Well, you could reveal your genius and stay in high school, couldn't you?" she asks.
It's pretty hilarious the things people say when they're backed into a corner and become desperate. She's now trying to have her cake and eat it, too, I guess hoping my brain fell into the sink and got chewed up into little pieces by the garbage disposal.
As much as I would love to lay into her right now while enjoying every minute of this role reversal, I keep it sweet and innocent.
"Umm," I begin while looking up and staring at the wall above her head, as if I'm pondering her question. "No. I just wouldn't feel right about doing that." My eyes drop back to hers. "You've made me realize high school is holding me back. In fact, I'm gonna go up to my room and think about how I'm going to tell everyone tomorrow," I say, then I head for the kitchen door.
I give my dad another pair of evil eyes as I pass him up, just to keep him in check. But he's clearly decided to stay out of this one as he sits there and continues to clean his plate.
"Wait a minute," my mom says as I reach the door.
I turn around once again to see her staring at the table, deep in the abyss of confusion and discomfort. I know she's fully aware of the game I'm playing, and that I don't really want to reveal my genius or leave high school. But she's so insanely excited about the prospect of me becoming a cheerleader that she doesn't care.
"You don't have to reveal it tomorrow if you don't want to. Why don't we just talk about all of this later?"
"Okay. If that's what you want." I grin as if I don't care either way, then turn and walk out the kitchen.
As I'm heading up to my room, I give myself a little pat on the back. The plan was successful. Now all I have to do is be a cheerleader, and I must say, I'm feeling a little better about it at the moment.
5
Awkward Signup
As the next few days go by leading up to Friday, the roller coaster of emotions going through me begins to take its toll. I couldn't have been happier when my mom sat me down the very next night after the Battle of Lasagna Pasta Town and agreed to let me keep my secret if I joined the cheerleading squad. But I've since continued to question the whole situation, and the Friday approach has definitely been tough on me.
On a positive note, though, Summer has left me alone all week. I think her near-death experience with Becca was all the convincing she needed to back off, and hopefully she won't be a problem for a while.
On the other hand, things with Bryson and me have pretty much been the same. We've had quite a few of our normal shy, awkward glances at each other. However, there have been no more hallway collisions, and as a result, no words spoken. I'm actually starting to believe Becca's theory that he's nervous to talk to me, just like I am to him. But that would mean he likes me. And as much as I would love for that to be true, I'm still having a hard time convincing myself it could even be a possibility. But why else would he always glance and smile at me, but not talk to me?
"You gonna eat, or should I take that salad from you?" Becca asks, waving a hand in my face.
My focus resurfaces. "Um, yeah, I am," I nod, grabbing a packet of light ranch dressing, which we eat in order to keep up our ladylike appearances here in the caf.
Becca reaches for her water bottle as a look of concern washes over her face. "What's wrong? You nervous about signing up today?"
"Yes, very," I say promptly, even though that's not what I was just daydreaming about.
Becca's expression turns sad, her eyes falling to the table. "Yeah, I know. I wish there was some way you didn't have to do this." Then after a brief silence, she looks back at me. "But, hey, I'll be at every game if you want me to be, and I'll be home waiting to hang out after your practice every day. I'll even have a tray waiting for you with all our favorite snacks," she giggles, trying anything and everything to make me feel a little better about this rotten situation. I'm definitely lucky to have her as a friend.
"It'll be okay, Dor," she adds, reaching over and patting my hand when I don't say anything. Her words actually do comfort me a great deal, though. They mean the world to me.
"Thanks, I appreciate that," I smile. "But you know, I did have a dream last night?" I open wide, stuffing in my first gigantic forkful of fresh, green lettuce as I watch Becca closely. She becomes motionless, staring me down through blank eyes, waiting in horror for me to continue my statement.
"I dreamed Summer was captain of the squad," I tell her, my stomach turning.
She rolls her eyes and falls back in her chair. "Tell me you're joking."
I shake my head, taking a sip from my water bottle. "Nope. No
t joking."
Becca and I have great reason to worry about this. The only thing worse than me becoming a cheerleader is becoming a cheerleader on the same squad as Summer. And the only thing worse than that would be Summer being captain of that squad. It would give her a platform to taunt me.
Now, here's the scary part. For whatever weird, spooky reason, reality has often seemed to fall directly in line with my vivid dreams over the years. It's creepy to say the least. Like one year, I dreamed Carson got an A on a math test--which has never happened. Even though his teacher mistakenly mixed up his test paper with another student's and gave him his failing grade the next day, he still brought home an A paper that night. And last year, I dreamed there was a huge dent in Mrs. Anna's front bumper, and the next day someone backed into her front end in the grocery store parking lot while she was inside shopping. These are just a couple examples of many. I'm a very logical person, but it's happened too many times to be coincidence. So, the Summer dream has us both justifiably shaken-up.
"I would think Alison would get captain. Summer, maybe co-captain," Becca says, peeking at Summer's table where Alison and several other varsity cheerleaders sit.
Alison has been on the squad every year and was co-captain last year. She's definitely in line to be captain this time around, so I'm hoping my dream will be off target for a change.
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking?I guess we'll see," I shrug, taking a quick peek at their table, as well.