She Drives Me Crazy(20)

“No. What’s the point, when they’re not gonna let me go?”

“But that cheerleading coach wants you, Irene!” I put the pieces together: Benson University is a school in Virginia, and it sounds like Irene might have a spot on their cheerleading squad. “And I know you want to go there, even if you’re trying to act all cool about it.” It sounds like there’s a small tussle and I imagine Honey-Belle trying to smother Irene with a hug and positive vibes.

“You know I can’t go there without a scholarship. My parents would never agree to that when I could go to an in-state school for much less. The Benson coach said she can fight for me if I win something as impressive as SAOY, but what if I don’t?”

“Don’t think like that. You have a real shot.”

“I hope so.” She sounds downcast, defeated. “Charlotte’s already trying to sabotage me. She’s going around telling everyone that even if cheerleading is quote, unquote, ‘a legitimate sport,’ that I’m obviously not a good captain if I’m letting girls fall during our routines.”

“That jealous, snaggletoothed heifer,” Honey-Belle says, and I have to choke back a laugh. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her angry.

“Plus, I can’t figure out whether winning Queen helps or hurts my chances,” Irene continues. “Do people think girls are less athletic when they win a You’re Pretty Award?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a boss. Everyone knows that.”

“Maybe,” Irene says. She doesn’t sound convinced. “I don’t know, Honey-Belle. I have to win SAOY to afford Benson, and I can’t win SAOY if I’m not cheering, but I can’t pay for this deductible unless I quit the squad and get a job.”

“You have to tell your parents,” Honey-Belle says. “Just explain it to them. Give them a chance to understand.”

“They won’t understand, especially my mom. She’ll make me quit the squad and work at her practice to pay them back. She’ll finally have some real leverage to use in her favor.”

Irene’s voice is different than I’ve ever heard before. It provokes a feeling in me that I can’t quite name. It takes a moment to realize it’s sympathy. She has a lot more on her shoulders than I thought. That doesn’t excuse how shitty she’s been toward me, but still. I feel for her.

Irene sighs, Honey-Belle soothes her, and they finally leave. I wait it out for a minute before I follow suit.



* * *



When the dance ends, it’s collectively decided that the night will continue at the Christmas Emporium. It’s a well-known secret that Grandma Earl students have been hosting after-parties there for decades. Plus, Honey-Belle has a key to let everyone into the Santa room, where the Earl-Hewetts keep their stock of Santa Claus statues that kids take pictures with when they’re drunk.

Kevin drives us since he’s the only one who didn’t partake in the “senior fundraiser.” Gunther takes the front while Danielle and I sit in the back seat, holding Kevin’s guitar case across our laps. Gunther helped himself to another two rounds of fundraiser while I was out in the locker hallway, so he’s giggly and goofy. He won’t stop laughing about how he has to pee.

The Emporium garage is open when we arrive. People are milling about in their suits and dresses, half inside the Emporium, half outside in the parking lot. The air is cool and smells like dead leaves and campfire.

As my friends walk off to survey the Santa statues, I take a moment to drink water and mull over something that’s been fermenting in my brain. It fizzled to life sometime in the last hour, after I overheard Irene and Honey-Belle at the dance. It’s a wild, ridiculous idea, but I can’t shake the feeling that it could be exactly what I need to solve my problems. I mean, didn’t my sisters tell me to fake it till I make it?

I make the decision and march toward Irene before I lose my nerve.

She’s standing with a small crowd of friends who look up as I approach. It’s outside the prescribed social norms for me to seek them out, but right now I don’t care.

“Irene,” I say loudly.

“Yeah?” she says, an edge to her voice. She crosses her arms over her apricot dress and eyes me warily.

“I need to talk to you.” I give her a meaningful look. “It’s important.”

I’ve never been so bold before. But why shouldn’t I be, especially now that I know all her weak spots?

She follows me out back behind the Emporium, where the long-forgotten train tracks are. There are fewer people out here; it’ll be easier to have a private conversation. I scoot onto the track incline and wait as she folds herself down next to me.

“Well?” she prompts.

I tuck my knees up, wrapping my arms around my pant legs like this is the most casual conversation I could imagine.

“I heard you and Honey-Belle talking in the hallway,” I say, looking her square in the eye. “I had no idea you were into girls.”

There’s a flicker of alarm in her eyes, but she sets her expression and gives me a steely look. “Why are you always in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Of course she wants to blame me for her decision to have a private conversation in a public place. “I was already in that lane,” I say coolly. “You’re the one who failed to check if the coast was clear.”