She Drives Me Crazy(18)
“I’ve never seen you try a smoky eye,” Danielle’s mom continues. “Scottie, who’s she trying to impress?”
I shake my head. “Nobody. As far as I can tell, Danielle’s just in love with basketball.”
Danielle hikes her eyebrows as if to say Ha, see?, but I know her well enough to pick up on the nervous way she’s messing with her jacket zipper. She’s probably thinking about seeing Kevin on the field when marching band performs during halftime.
The stadium is swelling with people by the time we join the admission line. The drums are booming, the sky lights are bright, and the air smells like hickory. I remember Tally squeezing my hand last year, promising we could escape to her car if we got too cold. Candlehawk’s Homecoming game is tonight, too, and she’s probably loving the thrill of a bigger stadium, the brighter lights, the news crews planted on the field to film their student body.
It’s cold on the metal bleachers. The band is stationed behind us, blasting their trumpets and pounding their drums. The cheerleaders are down on the sidelines, calmly going about their warm-up stretches in the midst of the building excitement. If I squint, I can just make out Irene, a dark ponytail directing the rest of the team. She’s obviously in her element. Not that I care.
The game starts a few minutes later. Our players sprint onto the field through a handmade banner of an old lady in a football helmet. The cheerleaders dive straight into their routines, amping up the crowd until we’re in a full-blown frenzy, and I hear the echo of Irene lecturing me about cheerleaders’ emotional intelligence.
A few minutes before halftime, the other team fumbles the ball and one of our guys runs it back for a touchdown. The crowd is roaring, riding the wave of the play. The cheerleaders pop up to run a victory routine. Irene is at the front of their formation, directing the pyramid before she goes to take her place.
I look away, watching the football players switch out the offensive and defensive lines. Then everyone gasps.
The cheerleader at the top of the pyramid has fallen off.
There’s a prolonged pause, followed by a rumbling of anxiety from the crowd, as the cheerleading coach and sports medicine team rush to the sidelines. The cheerleaders break out of their pyramid and hover around the girl, blocking everyone’s view. The announcer’s voice wavers as he says, “Hold on here, folks, looks like we’ve had an incident on the sidelines…”
After a long, suspended moment, the huddle clears and the girl hobbles to her feet. Irene presses close to her, talking to her as the sports medicine guys heave her forward on one foot.
“And thank goodness, it looks like she’s okay,” the announcer says, his voice hearty again. “Sprained ankle, from the looks of it. Yet another sacrifice these cheerleaders make to support our young men.”
“Sprained ankle, shit,” Danielle mumbles.
“They’re not cheering just to support the ‘young men,’” I say, annoyed.
“I mean … yeah. But the point is, I hope that girl’s okay.”
I don’t answer. Irene has disappeared, leaving the cheerleaders in disarray on the sidelines. I don’t see her again until the Homecoming Court parades onto the field during halftime. She glides along between her parents, easily visible because of her long dark hair. I wonder if her mom has been here all along to watch her routines, or if she only came to escort her for Court.
When they announce Homecoming Queen, no one is surprised to hear the name Irene Abraham. She smiles as she accepts the crown and flowers and poses for pictures with her King. To anyone else, it must look like she’s radiant with happiness, but my instincts tell me she’s berating herself for the cheerleading stunt gone wrong.
6
On Saturday, Dad and I get up early to take my car to the Sledd Brothers Auto Shop. They promise us the bumper is an easy fix, but with the amount of business they’ve had lately, it’s going to take several days before I get my car back. My parents will have to drop me off at school until then. When the mechanics tell us the estimated cost, I feel weird knowing that Irene’s insurance policy will pay for it.
The rest of the day is devoted to getting ready for the Homecoming dance. Mom and Daphne chirp about it all afternoon, bombarding me with ideas for how to do my hair as if I know what the hell they’re talking about. Finally, Thora takes pity on me and sets up a hair and makeup station in the basement. She hangs my suit on the door for “inspiration,” queues up music on her portable speaker, and brews a fresh pot of coffee to keep us in the zone. Daphne plops down beside her, offering input, and I sit still and silent, letting my sisters take the reins.
Thora and Daphne move effortlessly through Girl World. They speak a common language I’ve never understood, with shimmery words like contouring and bandeaus and bralettes. It’s their birthright, this ability to be like any other girl. I’ve never had the same birthright, and I’ve understood that since long before I heard the word gay.
Maybe that’s one of the reasons I liked Tally: She had no qualms about moving through both worlds. Now I have to straddle the two without her.
I breathe easier when Thora and Daphne agree on a hairstyle and reassure me of how stunning I’m going to look. Daphne hands me a coffee and smiles a giddy, ecstatic smile. Her own coffee looks too big for her little hands, but she takes a practiced sip and smacks her lips together the way Thora does.