I Was a Non-Blonde Cheerleader (33 page)

Meanwhile, on the football field behind us, the Sand Dune High School Fighting Crabs were taking on the West Wind Dolphins in the county championship game. It was the rematch of the century! Well, okay, the decade. Okay, maybe the month. But still, it was huge. You could taste the tension in the air. Or was that just the overboiled hot dog smell coming from West Wind’s snack bar?

We finished the cheer and turned to watch the action. Instinctively my eyes darted to the game clock. The last time we had played against the Dolphins, our archrivals, we had lost because of a mess-up by the officials involving the clock. Apparently they didn’t know how to tell time. If anything went wrong tonight, this crowd was going to be grilling referee meat on the barbecue and serving it up for breakfast.

Okay, that was gross. But people were really pissed off. Still. Even though that travesty had occurred
weeks
ago. After all, the total injustice of what happened at that game spurred our football players and cheerleaders to go out and
vandalize
West Wind High as a finale to our weeklong prank war—an act that had landed all of us in jail.

Yes. Even me. Even though Mindy, Daniel Healy and I hadn’t actually participated in any destruction, and we had been trying to sneak out of there, the Five-O nabbed us and tossed us in the big house.

Sorry. I hardly ever get to use words like that.

But suffice it to say we all wanted to beat West Wind now, fair and square. We all wanted it big-time.

“We have to get the ball back,” Chandra Albohm, one of my teammates and friends, said in my ear, her voice as gravelly as ever. Her curly blonde hair danced around her face as a cool wind kicked up around us. “We have to get the ball back
now.
”

She was right. There was a minute left in the game. We were down by three points. The defense had to stop West Wind on the next play or it was over.

I looked down the track at the rest of the squad, lined up like sentries, their little blonde heads all in a row. I, Annisa Gobrowski, was the sole brunette on the Sand Dune High School varsity cheerleading squad. Well, the sole brunette who hadn’t fallen victim to the peroxide fetish that abounds around here. Everyone stood with their feet apart, their hands behind their backs, holding their light blue and yellow poms. Everyone looked tense. Especially Tara Timothy, captain of the squad, our “fearless” (air-quote) leader.

Tara was the only cheerleader breaking formation, totally bizarre for a stickler like her, but it had been happening a lot lately. She clutched both poms in one hand behind her back and with her other hand reached up and rubbed the tatty blue ribbon that was wrapped around her long blonde ponytail. Her
lucky
hair ribbon, as she was constantly reminding us. I glanced down at her feet and grimaced. The elastic in her “lucky” socks was all stretched out and the formerly white cotton had taken on a gray tinge. This girl was falling apart.

The whistle blew out on the field. Time-out. I glanced at Chandra and Mindy. Right about now, Tara should be calling a cheer. Instead she was just rubbing her ribbon harder.

“Um, Tara?” Jaimee Mulholland prompted. Jaimee was one of the juniors on the squad and she was next to Tara in the formation.

“What?” Tara snapped, coming out of her trance.

“We should be doing a cheer, right? ’Cause it’s a timeout?” Jaimee twirled her thick blonde ponytail nervously. “I mean, if
you
think we should.”

Tara glanced around as if she was just now realizing where she was. “‘Defense Get Tough’!” she shouted, turning toward the crowd. “Ready?”

“Okay!” we all shouted.

We executed the cheer, which ended with me and a couple of other girls up in double base extensions. I shook my poms as the crowd applauded, then dismounted into Mindy, Chandra and Autumn’s arms.

“Okay, Miss Tara hasn’t changed her socks
or
her hair ribbons since we won regionals,” Chandra said under her breath.

“She’s become a completely superstitious being,” Autumn Ross said, brushing a lock of her white-blonde hair back behind her ear. “It’s not healthy. Maybe we should stage an intervention. We could start her on a meditation program to help her de-stress. Oh! Or maybe she could use some acupuncture!”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Mindy said, though she bit her lip when she noticed the socks.

“I just hope she’s not doing the same with her underwear,” I joked.

“Ew! Annisa!” Mindy wailed. She shoved me with her poms, but she and the others cracked up anyway.

“Okay, if we win this game, then we’re going to win at nationals,” Tara said, loud enough for all of us to hear. Her two best friends, Whitney Barnard and Phoebe Cook, rolled their eyes behind her back. “No, we’ll
place.
We win this game and we’ll definitely
place
at nationals,” she amended.

Sage Barnard, Whitney’s little sister, twirled her finger in a circle at her temple. A couple of the other girls cracked up. I had never liked Sage, but right then she had a point. Tara was making up her
own
superstitions now. The girl was bongo-bonkers.

“Ladies!” Coach Holmes hissed from her spot under the bleachers. “Pay attention to the game, please!”

We instantly did as we were told. Coach brings out the cadet in all of us.

On the field West Wind called a play and Bobby Goow, Tara’s boyfriend and the team’s star defensive end, burst through the line and slammed the West Wind quarterback into the turf. Sack! It was exactly what we needed. I jumped up and down, screaming with the rest of the fans as Autumn threw her arms around me. West Wind would have to punt. We would get the ball back with fifty-one seconds to go!

My heart pounded as West Wind lined up to punt the ball. At this point, we pretty much lost the will to stay in formation. Mindy, Autumn, Chandra, Jaimee and I huddled together, clutching hands, holding our breath with the rest of the Sand Dune fans. The ball arched through the air, end over end, and came down right in the hands of . . .

Daniel Healy! My boyfriend!
My
boyfriend was going to have the chance to win the game!

Well, my maybe-boyfriend. We hadn’t actually said the boyfriend/girlfriend words yet, but we would. Soon. I hoped. In my head he was already my boyfriend. But then, a lot of things go on inside my head.

Anyway, now Daniel was running down the field. He dodged. He weaved. A huge West Wind player came flying toward him and Daniel ducked out of the way and stayed on his feet. The defender sailed right over Daniel and crashed into the ground. It was a total highlight-reel moment. I could just hear the SportsCenter theme music playing in my ear.

“Oh my God! Go!” I shouted. “Go, Daniel! Run!”

There was nothing but open field in front of him. Suddenly he was zooming across the fifty . . . the forty . . . the thirty.

“Go! Go! Go!” we screamed, jumping up and down.

There was only one defender anywhere near him. The guy reached out to grab Daniel’s jersey just as he crossed into the end zone, but Terrell Truluck appeared out of nowhere and took him out. Crack! A sweet block. And Daniel was in! Touchdown!

“Touchdown, number thirty-two, Daniel Healy!” The announcer called out as the entire team huddled and jumped and thrust their helmets into the air. Daniel and Terrell jumped up and smacked chests, celebrating. I hugged everybody in sight. We were up by three! We could really win this one!

Adam Rider kicked the extra point and now all we had to do was stop West Wind on the next play. They would have one shot for a Hail Mary. One shot to beat us.

Adam kicked the ball off. The entire squad was huddled together. Tara rubbed her ribbon like it was Aladdin’s lamp. Some guy on West Wind caught the ball. If he could do what Daniel had just done, West Wind would win. But Bobby wasn’t having any of it. He raced upfield and before the returner had taken a step, Bobby smacked into him head-on, drilling him into the ground.

Time ran out. And the world pretty much exploded.

“We won! We won!” Jaimee shouted in my ear.

The entire football team rushed the field. The Sand Dune stands emptied out in a wave of insanity. Everyone was hugging me and screaming and twirling around. The band was playing “Nah nah nah nah! Nah nah nah nah! Hey, hey, hey! Good-bye!” Which was exactly what the West Wind fans had chanted at us when they had beaten us last time. So there.

Flashbulbs popped. Someone was taking a ton of pictures and purple dots floated across my vision. All I could think was,
I have to find Daniel! He’s the hero! My maybe-boyfriend is the hero of the county championship!

I spun around in the crowd and there he was, looking right at me from midfield as his teammates slapped his back and celebrated around him. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and his face was smudged with dirt and grime. My heart stopped and then slammed into my rib cage in total elation. In that split second I imagined the movie moment in my mind. I would jump into his arms. He would lift me off my feet and twirl me around, my cheerleading pleats flying . . . .

“Daniel!”

Out of nowhere, Sage raced across the field and into Daniel’s arms. Suddenly I was watching the movie reel exactly as I had imagined it, but I had been bumped from the starring role. Daniel laughed as he hugged Sage and swept her off her feet. Her blonde hair bounced like a shampoo ad as she clutched him in blatant adoration. Daniel wasn’t hugging me. He was hugging his evil ex. My heart dried up like a tomato in the sun.

How could he hug her? They were broken up! And she had treated him like dirt, cheating on him with my very own brother in front of a house party full of people! And hello? He was
supposed
to be hugging me!

I had been crushing on Daniel since the moment I met him on my first day of school, and it had almost killed me when I found out he was dating Miss Britney-Clone, Sage Barnard. Okay, that may be overstating it, but still. I had pined from afar until she cheated and they broke up. I was all ready to be a shoulder to cry on for him, but then he admitted to me that he had been thinking about breaking up with her for a while. Eureka! And soon we were becoming maybe-boyfriend-and-girlfriend.

So I ask again,
why
was he hugging
her
?

“Annisa!”

Terrell Truluck—wide receiver, friend of Daniel’s, thrower of sick blocks—stepped out of the crowd. He had a white streak of yard-line powder on the dark skin of his forearm and his shaved head was glistening.

“Whooooo! We did it!” he shouted, grabbing me up in a hug. I hugged him back, letting him swing me around, and forced a smile. With his movie-star smile and deep brown eyes, Terrell was pretty much a lock to win best-looking in his class, so if I couldn’t hug Daniel, I supposed he wasn’t a bad substitute.

“Great game!” I told him as he put me down again.

And then Daniel was there at my side. “Not as great as this playah!” Terrell shouted, slapping hands with Daniel. Daniel grinned and they did the manly, one-armed hug thing before Daniel finally,
finally
stepped up to me and enveloped me in his arms.

He smelled like a gym sock. His jersey was soaked through. Some mud rubbed off on my cheek. Still, I had never felt so relieved.

“You do realize you just won the game,” I said to him. “You personally.”

Daniel grinned sheepishly. “Nah. It was a team effort.”

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” I said. “That was an amazing run.”

“Thanks,” Daniel said as the celebration continued around us. “The guys are all going back to Crush’s house for a party, but I was thinking . . . maybe we could go to Dolly’s first? Just you and me? For some victory fries?”

My pulse raced so hard that my body temperature skyrocketed. See? He’s totally my boyfriend. He was probably hugging Sage only because she threw herself at him . . . right? One of these days that girl was going to have to start dealing with the fact that Daniel was
my
boyfriend now.

Maybe.

“I’m there,” I said.

“Sweet,” he replied.

He was just about to kiss me when a bunch of guys emerged from the crowd and lifted him up off his feet, hoisting him over their shoulders. I laughed at Daniel’s stunned expression. The mob went wild when they saw the hero of the moment lifted up above their heads. A couple of reporters from the local cable station approached the insanity, gunning for Daniel.

“It could be a while!” Daniel shouted down to me as he was bumped away.

“I’ll be here!” I shouted back.

And then I did what any self-respecting cheerleader would do. I leaped into the psychotic throng.

“Oy. You are just all kinds of barf-worthy right now,” Bethany Goow said to me as we walked toward the West Wind High parking lot with the rest of the Sand Dune crowd.

“Gee, thanks,” I replied with an eye roll. “And did you just say ‘oy’? Are you Yiddish all of a sudden?”

“I can ‘oy’ if I want to ‘oy,’” she grumbled.

Actually, Bethany Goow could say pretty much anything and get away with it. She of the black eyeliner, black nail polish and jewelry that could probably double as weaponry was my best friend at Sand Dune High. The antithesis of all my other friends who loved school and loved life, Bethany hated pretty much everything around her. Except me. And her website, sucks-to-be-us.com. She reserved a special place in her bile pit for her brother, Bobby Goow, his girlfriend, Tara Timothy, and all the cheerleaders, football players and pep-squad members at SDH. Again, except for me. She came to the games only to support me—and crack herself up by mocking everybody else.