Chapter Sixteen
You’re not going to believe this because I definitely didn’t: I MADE THE ***CHEER TEAM!!!*** (Yes, I’ve added ***asterisks*** to that announcement. I’ll get around to that.)
So I was lying on my bed, icing my floor-flattened face with a bag of frozen edamame, when I heard noises downstairs. My parents were both out of the house—Dad on his bike, Mom at her office—so I dragged myself downstairs to see what was going on. This was the last thing I felt like doing because in the kitchen—just as I’d feared—was the last person I felt like seeing. Honestly, I would have been happier if I’d stumbled upon my friendly neighborhood ax murderer.
“Congratulations!” Bethany squealed as she wrapped me in a hug. “You did it!”
“Uh. Did what?” Humiliate myself? Break my face?
“Did what?” Bethany said in imitation. “So modest! Sherri—Miss Garcia—called! She’s thrilled to offer you a special spot on the team!”
I swear if she had said, “The president of the United States called. He’s thrilled to offer you a special spot on his superawesome secret spy team,” I would have been less surprised.
“Uh—what?”
“She thanked me for alerting her to your special talents!” she said. “And perfect timing, too! She called when I was already on my way over here!”
Aha. Bethany hadn’t made a special trip just to congratulate me after all. She had another reason for being here while my parents were out. And sure enough, she headed straight for the mail on the kitchen counter. As she’d done before, she sifted through it, clearly looking for something specific.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
She froze. “What do you mean?”
“You come to the house when you know Mom and Dad are out of the house—usually on a Tuesday, now that I think about it. You make small talk, search through the mail, then leave. You’re looking for something. What are you looking for?”
Bethany’s mouth tightened for a moment, then loosened up into a half smile.
“Can you keep a secret?” she whispered even though we were alone.
My sister was asking me to keep a secret. I’m usually the one she keeps secrets from! The IT List may be responsible for breaking my face, but it was also bonding me and my sister together!
“Of course I can keep a secret!”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Are you sure you won’t blab? You don’t have a good track record.”
She still hadn’t forgotten when she was sixteen and I was six and she brought a cute boy over to our house and I marched right up to the cute boy and said, “Hey! You’re not the same boy my sister was kissing yesterday, are you?” And it was superawkward because this was their first date. And their last.
“I promise I won’t blab!” I held up my hand, like Scout’s honor, though, considering my cookie-stealing dismissal from Troop 10, that wasn’t the best gesture for boosting my sister’s confidence in me.
“Okay,” she said, looking around the room as if my parents were inside the pantry eavesdropping. “I’m waiting for a letter from school. An important letter.”
“But Mom and Dad don’t open your mail.…”
“This important letter won’t be addressed to me. It will be addressed to them. But it’s about me. And I’d rather tell them the contents of that letter myself.”
“Oh!” I burst out. “Is it, like, an award?”
And then my sister’s whole face lit up like a Ferris wheel at night.
“Yes!” She hugged me again as if I were the one winning the award. “That’s exactly it! And I want to tell them about it personally. So it’s more meaningful.”
“Like you coming here to tell me about making the CHEER TEAM!!!”
I said this even though I knew that wasn’t her original reason for driving over here.
“Yes,” my sister said. “Like that.” Then she snapped her fingers and said, “Oh! Sherri—I mean, Miss Garcia—wants you to call her. That’s how special you are!”
I must say, I still had serious doubts that I’d made the squad. I figured Miss Garcia just wanted to make sure I was still alive and my parents wouldn’t sue the school. But until I knew for sure, I decided the best thing would be to keep the details of my disastrous tryout to myself.
“So… how’s the rest of the IT List going?” Bethany asked as she opened a cabinet, removed a box of granola bars, and stuffed it into her large handbag.
“Well, you know I was so focused on the CHEER TEAM!!! tryouts that…”
“Any hot prospects for number three?”
IT List #3: Pick your first boyfriend wisely. Bethany asked this in the same supergirlie tone my mom uses whenever she asks if there’s a special someone in my life.
“Uh… well…” I stammered.
“Come on, Jess! Don’t hold out on me!”
Why did everyone assume I was harboring a secret crush on someone? Why was it so impossible to believe that I just wasn’t interested in boys that way? Especially when the only time any boys paid attention to me at all was to copy my Pre-Algebra homework?
The only exception was Woodshop. As The Only Girl in the Room, the rest of the class had come to see me as a representative of all femalekind.
“Are girls ever into guys who are shorter than they are?” asked Squiggy.
“When do girls fart?” asked Mouth.
“Why are girls always saying they want nice guys, but then they go for jerks?” asked Cheddar.
“Seriously. Girls fart, right? Why don’t they ever just let one rip?” asked Mouth.
They asked these questions because there was nothing at stake. None of them would ever see me as dating material. And vice versa. The only one who never asked me any questions was Aleck. Aleck never said anything to me at all.
Anyway, I could tell from the look of anticipation on my sister’s face that this answer wouldn’t cut it. With a silent apology to Bridget, I lied.
“I think I might like this boy named Burke Roy? He’s cute and popular and a football player?”
Despite my lackluster delivery, this was exactly the sort of thing my sister wanted to hear.
“It sounds like you’ve picked a winner!” Bethany said, taking a six-pack of flavored seltzer out of the refrigerator and handing it to me. “And you’ll have no problem getting him now that you’re on the CHEER TEAM!!!”
I really, really found it hard to believe that I was actually on the CHEER TEAM!!! The reality of me being on the CHEER TEAM!!! seemed as likely as the reality of a boy like Burke Roy asking out a girl like me. Not that I even wanted to be asked out by him or anyone, which is what led to this stupid fib in the first place.
As I carried the seltzer out to her car for her, Bethany and I worked it out so I’d keep an eye on the mail so she wouldn’t have to do so much driving and sneaking around.
“Check every day, but the college almost always mails out these uh… announcements on Mondays, so make sure to do an extraspecial check on Tuesdays, okay?”
I’m not sure what “extraspecial” checking would entail, but I promised anyway.
“You’re sure you can keep your mouth shut?” she asked once more as she checked her appearance in the rearview mirror.
“I’m not six years old anymore!”
“You’re right! You’re a young woman! On the CHEER TEAM!!! Call Sherri! I mean, Miss Garcia!”
And then my sister cheerfully honk-honk-h-honk-honked the horn and drove off.
At this point, I was pretty much convinced that Miss Garcia was pranking me and Bethany. But I wanted to have the matter settled before I returned to school the next day. I needed to know where I stood. So I called the number Bethany had written down for me on a slip of paper.
Miss Garcia picked up on the first ring.
“Helllllooooo!” She sounded even peppier on the phone than she did in person.
“Uh, hello, Miss Garcia? This is, uh, Jessica Darling. Bethany’s sister? She told me that yo
u wanted me to call?”
“Of course!” Miss Garcia replied. “I’m so glad you called! Did she tell you the news! You’re on the CHEER TEAM!!!”
Even though I heard her say it, I still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Uh, Miss Garcia? You know who I am, right? I’m not the blonde. I’m the one who… uh… I showed you what I got and I, uh—”
Thankfully she cut me off before I relived my face-first landing.
“I know who you are! And I know who the blonde is, too! She’s Bridget Milhokovich! Don’t tell her yet because the list won’t be posted until tomorrow morning, but she’s the new five-foot-four spot in The Famous Pineville Junior High Arrow Pointing Toward Awesomeness Alignment! It’s our signature alignment!”
I didn’t catch much of what Miss Garcia said after that because I was simultaneously experiencing two opposing emotions:
JOY! My best friend made the CHEER TEAM!!!
JEALOUSY! My best friend made the CHEER TEAM!!! and STOLE MY SPOT.
I only checked back into the conversation when I realized that Miss Garcia had stopped speaking and was waiting for me to answer a question.
“Uh… I’m sorry. What?”
“I know! You’re stunned!” she said. “It’s such an honor, right? Such an important responsibility! You’re overwhelmed! But I wouldn’t have offered you this awesome opportunity unless I thought you were up to the task!”
This all sounded very exciting. The only problem was that I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Could you just, uh… repeat the offer?” I said. “I want to be sure I heard you correctly.”
“I want you to be the Official Pineville Junior High School Mascot!” she gushed. “Mighty the Seagull!”
Then she went on to say that she had wanted to bring back this time-honored tradition ever since she became head CHEER TEAM!!! coach. But until my death-defying face-plant, she’d never seen a candidate dare to put her personal philosophy in action.
“Cheer without fear!” she chanted.
“Cheer without fear!” I chanted back, because that’s the kind of power Miss Garcia has over people.
“You’re perfect!” she gushed.
Perfect.
There was that word again.
Plus, I fit the bird suit.
But that wasn’t the most important part.
“The identity of Mighty the Seagull must be a mystery! I want the whole school wondering what unique person embodies PJHS pride! Joy! Honor! Spirit!” She lowered her voice to signal the seriousness of what she was about to say. “Can you keep a secret?”
I thought of my promises to Bridget. And Bethany.
“Of course I can,” I said. “You can count on me.”
Then Miss Garcia told me that I’d be making my debut as Mighty the Seagull at the big pep rally at the end of the week. She encouraged me to study up on what she called “the mascotting arts.” I wasn’t sure how to do this, but I assured her I would.
“Cheer without fear!” she said once more before hanging up.
So I’m not a cheerleader. But being Mighty the Seagull fulfills IT List #2 because I am on the CHEER TEAM!!!
Even if it’s on a technicality.
And requires me to wear a giant bird costume.
Anonymously.
Hence the ***asterisks.***
I had barely hung up the phone when it rang again.
It was Bridget, which was surprising because she usually doesn’t call. She just shows up uninvited. I assumed she was concerned about the state of my face but was too squeamish to see the damage in person. I was wrong.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.
Bridget’s tone was accusatory in a way that made me nervous because—duh!—there were a whole bunch of things I wanted to tell her but couldn’t.
“Uhhhh,” I stammered. “What?”
This conversation was going to be harder than I thought.
“I saw your sister at a stop sign when I was walking home from cheer tryouts and…”
She said it in a leading way, like I was supposed to fill in the gap.
“Annnnnd?” I asked back.
There was a moment of silence before Bridget continued.
“And Bethany said something that, I don’t know…”
Ack. Why couldn’t Bethany keep her mouth shut? Why did she have to brag about me making the CHEER TEAM!!! to Bridget? I swore to Miss Garcia I wouldn’t reveal my mascot assignment to anyone. I had to make a choice: either break that promise or lie to my best friend. If all goes the way it should, no one should ever find out that I’m the school mascot. And if Bridget never found out that I was the mascot, she’d never know I lied.
Right?
“Look, Bridget,” I said. “I know what Bethany told you, but she’s totally wrong. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”
“She is?” Bridget asked meekly. “She doesn’t?”
“When has Bethany ever known more about me than you do?”
RIGHT NOW, I thought guiltily.
“Never,” Bridget admitted. “I guess.”
I could tell that Bridget was coming around, so I decided to take the conversation in a totally different direction.
“But it is true that I’ve been keeping a secret.”
I swear Bridget squeaked like Jazzy the Gerbil when I grabbed him too hard by the tail. I took a deep breath and made my voice sound as serious as possible.
“I stuff my bra.”
Silence. Then… laughter. All the laughter she must have kept inside when I landed on my face at tryouts.
“You stuff your bra?” Bridget asked incredulously. “But I thought you had to wear a bra before you could stuff it!”
She had a point there.
“Okay, okay,” I said in resignation. “So I stuff my nonsupportive training bralette.”
When Bridget laughed some more I was encouraged to keep going.
“A cotton ball fills both cups,” I added. “And by that I mean a single cotton ball, divided in two. So that’s my big confession. Do you feel better now?”
“Yes,” Bridget said, still giggling. “And I’m sorry about earlier.” I could practically hear her ears turning pink. “You know, the stuff about your sister. She just caught me at a bad time, I guess. I was just, you know, coming down from my tryout freak-out.…”
I assured her that no apology was necessary and that everything would work out perfectly.
“And that’s a promise!” I said.
These were more than just reassuring words. I already knew them to be true.
Chapter Seventeen
Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret? And I’ve got more than one!
Fortunately, I was only expected to keep the secret about Bridget making the CHEER TEAM!!! until she found out for herself. As it was, I almost spilled, like, a bazillion times on the bus ride to school! Bridget was in a full-on freak-out, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since getting her braces off had boosted her confidence. She was so agitated that she forgot to flirt with Burke Roy and totally ignored him when he flirted with her. For a short while, it was almost like the old Bridget was back.
“Do you think I made the team? I don’t know if I made the team! I hope I made the team! I really, really want to make the team! I think I was good enough to make the team, but there were a lot of girls who were good enough to make the team and maybe Miss Garcia liked those girls more than me and—oh! I wish you could have been there to see my tryout because I know you’d be honest about my chances.…”
Then she stopped talking, suddenly remembering the embarrassing face-breaking circumstances that led to my early dismissal from the tryout.
“Your face doesn’t look nearly as bad as I thought it would,” Bridget said brightly.
To her credit, she didn’t even try to assure me that I had a shot at making the team. Which was, you know, ironic because I TOTALLY HAD A SPOT ON THE TEAM BUT COULDN’T TELL HER OR ANYONE
ELSE ABOUT IT.
The CHEER TEAM!!! list was posted on the bulletin board closest to the front entrance, where everyone in school was guaranteed to see it whether they wanted to or not. Bridget and Dori had promised to meet outside by the flagpole so they could find out together who made the team. They extended their arms, then sandwiched their hands, one atop the other, psyching themselves up to face their fate.
“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!” they chanted. “WALK! THROUGH! THE! DOOR!”
And then they did. I followed.
I already knew Bridget made the CHEER TEAM!!! And yet despite knowing that Dori was a better gymnast than she was, I still held that grape jelliness against her, I guess. So I was shocked when both girls jumped up and down with joy.
“I made it! You made it!” Dori squealed.
“WE MADE IT!” Bridget squealed back.
It was a sweet moment and I wish I could have joined in. But I couldn’t. I had a secret to keep. So I felt kind of guilty when Bridget and Dori went out of their way to console me for not making the squad.
I made it, too, I wanted to say. 3ZNUF! 4EVA!
The sweetness was short-lived, however. Manda and Sara’s arrival on the scene brought it to a screeching halt. Ha. In more ways than one.
“Omigod! You!” Sara screeched, pointing at Bridget. “And YOU?”
That was directed at Dori, obviously. Sara’s screeching continued.
“Those were our spots! YOU STOLE OUR SPOTS.”
She said this as if the positions on the squad were no different from the table she’d claimed in the cafeteria: hers for the taking. But then I realized that my reaction to Bridget making the team had been exactly the same. It was not my proudest moment.
Bridget and Dori knew better than to stick around for Sara’s tirade. They escaped arm in arm as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Manda kept her hands cupped over her face and mouth and breathed deeply, like in the movies when someone tries to calm down by hyperventilating into a paper bag. Then she turned on her patent leather flats and walked away without saying a word, which was fine because Sara was OMIGOD-ing enough for both of them.
I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. It was Hope.