A Match Made in High School (19 page)

“Ms. Sheehan, Mr. Harding. Good morning. Take a seat.”

We sank down into the two sagging orange chairs facing her.

“I just received a call from Ms. Klein.” She let that statement hang in the air for a few seconds. Typical principal maneuver.

“You two seem to have upset her quite a bit. Explain.”

I let Todd do the talking. Charming older women was clearly his department. His God-given talent and forte, even. Might as well use it.

“It was a huge misunderstanding, Principal Miller, believe me,” he purred. She showed no signs of weakening. Todd leaned forward. “All we did was push the envelope a little bit, in terms of the marriage ed budget. We didn’t break any rules. But it seems like Mag—uh, Ms. Klein didn’t care for our choices. I hope you can see it from our point of view.”

Principal Miller leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She wasn’t buying any of it. She sent laser eye daggers at us over the red rims of her glasses. “From what I’ve seen over the past few months, your ‘point of view’ has been nothing less than hostile and disruptive. But I stood back and let you two try to work it out.”

“And we have,” I blurted. “Look at us. We’re sitting here together presenting a united front.”

“I see that. However, Ms. Klein feels that you’ve made a mockery of this whole course, and her work in it as well. Don’t congratulate yourselves, though, because you’re not the only ones. Several of your classmates have exhibited the same lack of seriousness as you two.”

“But we took it seriously!” I argued. “We did everything you asked. We kept up our assignments. We went to the 232 Kristin Walker

counseling. It’s not fair to keep us from graduating because of what someone else did.”

She leaned forward on her desk and laced her fingers together. She scrutinized one of us and then the other. Back and forth, like a lioness scanning the savannah for prey. “No, it’s not fair. Is it?” she growled. “It’s not fair to spend so much time working toward something, only to have someone else’s lapse in judgment, poor choice, one mistake, destroy it all.”

Todd and I recoiled deeper into our seats. I tried to puzzle out what specifically, Principal Miller was talking about. Was it Todd and me and the other students in the course? Was it the betrayal and disillusionment she felt in her own marriage? Was it Maggie Klein’s unraveling counseling career?

“Principal Miller,” Todd said in a dead-serious voice completely devoid of syrup, “this isn’t Fiona’s fault. She didn’t know about the last budget. I did it by myself. She had nothing to do with it. She should graduate.”

Principal Miller took aim at him and fired. “I’ll decide who graduates and who doesn’t.” I couldn’t believe this was the same woman who could dirty-dance with Mr. Evans and break down in front of the whole student body. The woman in front of Todd and me was hard as stone. Impenetrable. Invulnerable.

“Please,” Todd said. “If I don’t graduate, fine. But let Fiona.”

She sighed and sat back in her chair again. Her face softened slightly. I hoped that Todd had made a hairline crack in her exoskeleton. But I was worried that she was CHAPTER 29 233

about to agree to his bargain, and I couldn’t let that happen.

“Wait,” I said. “This isn’t Todd’s fault. I’m the one who started everything. I threw a hot dog at him. I kept provoking him. I made it difficult for Maggie Klein. Todd deserves to graduate more than I do.”

Principal Miller inhaled and her face lit up slowly, like a sunrise. In fact, by the time she finally spoke, I could have told Principal Miller that I was going to become a nun and devote my life to prayer and celibacy, and her expression wouldn’t have approximated the look of surprise she’d developed. “Hot damn,” she whispered. “It worked.”

“Excuse me?” Todd stammered.

She waved the question away. “Nevermind. All right, kids, here’s what’s going to happen. Your behavior, although negative and destructive, has not, in fact, violated the parameters set forth in the marriage ed course. Therefore, you are still enrolled in the program and eligible for graduation, and you remain in the running to win the cash prize. On one condition: the two of you must write a letter of apology for your behavior to Ms. Klein.” She leaned toward us. Her eyes narrowed to dark slits behind her bifocal lenses. “Otherwise, you fail.”

Todd and I squirmed and groaned in objection.

“And you must turn it in first thing Monday morning,”

she said.

Now we had some complaints to sink our teeth into. “But we have midterm exams next week,” I cried.

“And districts this weekend,” Todd added.

234 Kristin Walker

“Yeah, districts!” I echoed. “Did you know we’re doing districts on Saturday?”

“Yes, Ms. Sheehan. I am aware of the cheerleading squad’s competition this weekend. What that has to do with our situation is beyond me.”

Todd and I both gaped at her. Then at each other. Then back at her. Like two comic-strip characters. The text bubbles above our heads would’ve read:
How could she say that? Is she
blind? Deaf? Has she not seen us working together all semester?

Are we not literally working together as a freaking team? Is she a
total dictator, emphasis on the “dick”? Is there a question?

“Now, Ms. Sheehan, Mr. Harding. You may return to class.”

The flared bell of a bullhorn appeared at the window.

“
Marriage education class—can’t decide which kids will pass.
”

Todd and I craned our necks to see who was out there. Principal Miller reached behind her and snapped the blinds shut. “
Back to class
.”

We didn’t wait around to hear it again. Todd and I clawed our way out of the orange chairs and boogied out of the office.

“This is ridiculous,” Todd said.

I said, “Let’s just focus on districts. We’ll figure this out after.”

dESpITE ThE dISTRACTIoN oF pRINCIpAL MILLER’S

verbal spanking, cheer practice the rest of the week actually went okay. It was no coincidence that this “okay” week ended on Friday the thirteenth. Ask anyone who’s unlucky what the one day is when they
are
lucky, and I bet they’ll say Friday the thirteenth. And this Friday the thirteenth proved it. I found myself one, best friends with Mar again; two, not in hand-to-hand combat with either Todd or Amanda; and
three
, one day away from the end of my cheerleader prison sentence. And if that doesn’t convince you that Friday the thirteenth is lucky, then you’re nuts. It’s solid science. The squad all wore our uniforms to school Friday to gear everybody up for the competition on Saturday. Callie Brooks saw my candy-cane-colored polyester disaster, and got this expression on her face like she was passing a pinecone backward through her intestines. I gave her the finger as I walked by. For practice after school, we ran a kind of dress rehearsal. I have to say, when we did the whole competition routine in perfect synchrony, it was cool. We all moved together. And I was part of it. Part of a team. I’d never felt that before. I 236 Kristin Walker

had a hard time putting my finger on the precise name for the sensation. But I finally figured it out. Pride. Oh God. I actually had Eagle pride. Ain’t irony a pisser?

Finally, we broke off and agreed to meet outside the gym at eight in the morning to get onto the bus that would take us to Stonemount High, the school hosting the competition. At home, I nibbled at dinner. Tried to force some carbs down my gullet for energy the following day. Talked on the phone to Mar for a few minutes. Begged her not to show up for the competition. Took out my contacts and stared out the window at the fuzzy night sky for about a hundred hours. Finally fell asleep and dreamed about cheering. Not exactly what you’d call a restful night.

My alarm went off at 7 a.m. I showered, popped my contacts back in, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and slipped on my uniform. Dad drove me to school so I wouldn’t have to bike in bare legs.

Mrs. O’Toole was remarkably animated as she inspected our uniforms and checked our names off on a clipboard. By eight-twelve, we were all on the bus, inhaling the engine fumes that leaked in through the heating system and trying to forget that in three hours we’d either be on our way to regionals or on our way home as losers. Well, I wouldn’t be going to regionals—Judith Norton would. I’d be there with the orange water cooler. That is, unless Mom actually succeeded in killing the marriage ed course. I’d probably go anyway, though. Just to watch.

“Whatcha thinking about, Princess?” Todd had swiveled CHAPTER 30 237

around in his seat to bug me. Amanda sat next to him but didn’t acknowledge my existence. I was fine with that.

“I’m relishing the fact that this is the very last day of my cheerleading career.”

“Say whatever you like, but I know you’re going to miss that little skirt,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “you’ll get it back today. I hope it still fits you.”

“At least I know you didn’t stretch out the sweater.”

“Unlike the poor sweater you’re wearing. Your manboobs are much bigger than mine.”

“You have man-boobs?”

Amanda sighed in our general direction. Todd turned to the front again and leaned over to nuzzle her ivory neck. I turned on my iPod, slipped in the earphones, and tuned out everything else.

When we got to Stonemount an hour later, I was halfasleep. The music, the rocking of the bus, and the lack of sleep the night before had zoned me out. In fact, we all seemed to be in zombie mode as we lumbered off the bus and filed into the school gym. Then everything changed. Einstein’s theory of relativity put forth the idea that mass and energy are interchangeable. Poor Albert spent years analyzing and refining his equations to come to that conclusion. Years spent hunched over a ledger or scratching at a chalkboard. All he’d ever needed to do was go to a cheer competition.

The energy in the gym was palpable. I could actually 238 Kristin Walker

feel it thick and prickly around me. Cheerleader-shaped atoms streaked across the space at blinding speeds, leaving the fabric of reality shuddering in their wakes. Everywhere, ponytails swung, skirts twirled, fists pumped, legs splayed, and color-coated bodies flipped, flew, and fell in a kinetic frenzy. Tearing through the chaos were sounds of cheering, clapping, stomping, and screeching. The noise bounced and rebounded off every surface without ever losing a decibel. Each squad clustered together in a spot on the floor to practice. We snaked our way through them toward the registration table. As we did, our competition eyeballed us like rival street gangs. We did the same to them. Amanda was particularly adept at this. She never looked away first. I swear she could have stared down a bull in Pamplona without dropping an eyelash. She gave an especially frigid glare to the captain of the Lincoln squad. The rivalry between East Columbus and Lincoln went back as long as any of us knew. It didn’t help that their football team was the one that had injured Todd, either. And last year, Lincoln had beaten East Columbus by a hair at these competitions. So Amanda and the rest of the squad were ripe for revenge. I gave them the best evil eye I could muster, but I think it probably looked like I was impersonating a pirate.

Mrs. O’Toole got us registered and we staked out a spot on the floor. We warmed up and plowed through our whole routine at double time and half-effort. The purpose of this strategy was twofold. One, we didn’t want to waste energy, and two, we didn’t want to tip our hand. If the squad next CHAPTER 30 239

to us knew we were doing a certain complicated stunt, they might change one of theirs to up the ante.

As soon as we finished, my guts started churning. I realized that the next time I did the routine, I would be out in the middle of the floor, in front of a crowd that was presently growing at an exponential rate. Simone Dawson must have known I was freaking out inside, because she pulled me over to the bleachers and sat me down. “Nervous?” she asked.

“Nah,” I lied.

“I am,” she said. “Hey, could you do me a favor?”

“Depends,” I said.

Simone’s face sparkled. “Would you let me give you a makeover?”

“A what?” I asked, although I knew exactly what she meant.

“You know. Do your makeup. It takes my mind off stuff. Calms me down.”

Well, far be it from me to let poor Simone vex away beside me. “I guess,” I said. So there I sat as Simone opened something that looked like a purple fishing-tackle box full of makeup and proceeded to paint my face. It made me think of Sam’s makeovers. I really wanted to see Sam again. Find out how she was doing. I wished she was here to see me, because she’d understand the ridiculous hilarity of this situation like no one else. Except maybe Marcie. Even so, I prayed Mar wouldn’t show up.

“Relax your face,” Simone cooed.

I closed my eyes and let the brushstrokes on my cheeks 240 Kristin Walker

sweep away the tension. I tried a little meditation. Zen and the art of makeup application.

I heard a voice say, “Good luck, Fee!” and I opened one eye. Then my stomach clenched again. There was Mar. And standing next to her was Johnny Mercer.

I tried to talk as Simone coated my lips with opalescent pink goo. “Oh God, why did you guys come to submit yourselves to this torture?”

“If you think I’d miss it, you’re crazy,” Mar said. “Johnny and I did our marriage ed job this morning, so I asked if he wanted to come with me to the competition after. Right?”

“Yup,” Johnny said. He ran his fingers through his hair and then shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He bounced his knees in and out one at a time. But when I caught his eye, he stopped and winked at me. I grinned, and Simone poked me in the tooth with the lip gloss wand.

Mar tapped me on the elbow. “Johnny even brought his video camera. We’re going to post the whole thing online.”

I tensed up like someone had just given me a surprise rectal exam.

“She’s kidding!” Johnny blurted.

“Just do me one favor?” I pleaded. “Sit where I can’t see you.”

Mar guffawed in the most undignified manner. “Fat chance,” she said. I tried to kick at her sideways.