She Drives Me Crazy(17)
“And hazelnut with extra espresso for Danielle,” Kevin says, passing her the cup. “What’s the extra shot for today? The AP Lit test?”
“Yeah, ’cause I have to beat you,” Danielle says, hiking her eyebrows at him.
Kevin laughs. “It’s not a competition if you’re the only one in it, Danielle.”
“Still gonna leave you in the dust.”
“We get it, you guys are smart,” Gunther says, rolling his eyes. “Can we focus on the topic at hand? Scottie’s back to being one of us.”
Kevin and Danielle laugh. “I have to admit, I’m kind of bummed,” Danielle says. “I was getting used to our cheering section.”
“Yeah, I was ready for the cheerleaders to start cheering at your games,” Gunther says. “Which means I’d get to, too.”
“They’d never switch to cheering for us,” I say.
“They might. I heard a bunch of the cheerleaders talking about how good y’all are.” Gunther pauses, and for some reason his cheeks flush pink. “Honey-Belle said you’re her she-roes.”
Danielle and I laugh, but before we can respond, my phone chimes with that dreaded tone.
Tally Gibson: Glad to see you’re free of her.
“How does she know these things?” I whine, showing my friends the message.
Danielle huffs as usual, but Kevin pulls out his phone. “Damn,” he mutters. “Gino needs to get a life.”
He shows us Gino’s Instagram Story: a video of Irene and Honey-Belle getting out of Honey-Belle’s Jeep. The caption says No more Uber service, back to riding with the elites!!
“The ‘elites’?” Danielle says with disgust. “God, they practically parody themselves.”
“Weren’t you just saying you enjoyed their cheering section?” Kevin teases, and Danielle shoves him.
I don’t say anything. A hot wave of embarrassment flushes over my body. I’m mortified that Gino would write that. I’m even more mortified that Tally saw it.
* * *
During first period, we have a special extended schedule so the video journalism kids can broadcast their latest news segment. It’s Homecoming-centric, with a choppy story about the football team’s practice regimen and interviews with the student gov kids about their decorating plans. The last segment is about Homecoming Court. Ten people from my grade are nominated for the King and Queen spots, and one of the Cleveland triplets, who have their hands in everything that goes on here, nabbed interviews with them.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s an honor,” one guy says.
“I’m so excited, just so, so excited,” a peppy girl grins.
Charlotte Pascal is up next. “To get this kind of recognition from your peers, it’s just—what more can you ask for?”
And then Irene’s face pops up, and I squirm uncomfortably in my seat.
“Are you so excited?” the Cleveland triplet asks.
“Yeah, it’s a trip,” Irene says with a casual flick of her hair. She sounds like she couldn’t give two shits.
“Are you nervous?”
Irene blinks. “For the game, yeah. I’m concerned about getting our routines right. We’ve been working our asses off, and right now I’m splitting my time between football and basketball cheerleading, with different sets for each—so I want to make sure we do everything right on Friday night.”
“Why didn’t they bleep out ‘asses’?” my civics teacher asks. “And what’s with this girl’s answer?”
“She’s cheerleading captain,” one of my classmates says.
“So?”
“So that’s all she ever talks about. Her friend Honey-Belle says she’s running for Student Athlete of the Year.”
“As a cheerleader?” someone sneers.
The shot changes to another nominee, but I stop listening. An unwelcome feeling stretches over me, like I’m starting to understand Irene Abraham even if I don’t want to.
* * *
Practice that afternoon is dead. The whole team seems to understand that our short-lived glory is over. When we finish for the day with no one in the gym but ourselves, the mood is sour and defeated. Googy tries to lighten things by asking me to hit Irene’s car again. Nobody laughs.
When Danielle and I walk outside, my irritation spikes. There’s a number of fans already tailgating by the football field and I’m bitter to realize they’ll never show up for one of my games in the same way. No wonder Tally wanted to transfer.
Danielle and I swing by her house to get ready for the game. During dinner with her family, my mood finally brightens. Mr. and Mrs. Zander ask about basketball, about the dance tomorrow night, about college applications. Teddy sits at the table with his legs knocking excitedly, dressed in a reindeer onesie that he insists on pairing with an alien headband.
“Hold on,” Mrs. Zander says when we’re about to leave. I think she’s about to compliment our homemade Grandma Earl T-shirts, but instead she eyes Danielle’s makeup with suspicion. “Who you dressing up for?”
“Nobody,” Danielle says, too casually. “It’s the Homecoming game, Mom.”
“I used to love Homecoming weekend,” Danielle’s dad says, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between his wife and daughter. “Everyone was so distracted with the pomp and circumstance that my friends and I were finally able to play Dungeons & Dragons in peace.”