The Cheerleaders(41)
Male kickline was always the highlight of class Spirit Night. Every year, a few girls from each class would choreograph routines for the guys in their grade to perform. Last year, the appointed freshman male kickline captain, Cassidy Burns, had chosen “Like a Virgin”; the boys had squeezed themselves into jean shorts and lacy fingerless gloves, and some had even drawn birthmarks on their cheeks with eyeliner. Principal Heinz’s eyes almost popped out when they started rolling around on the floor, gyrating. Mrs. Coughlin wanted to cut them off mid-song. In the end, the guys were disqualified for being inappropriate and Cassidy was banned from choreographing any future class Spirit Night dances.
There was no question this year that the job would go to Juliana. She didn’t even have to lobby for it; she raised her hand at the student council meeting and Mrs. Coughlin said the job was hers. Juliana Ruiz was a responsible, respectful girl. There would be no gyrating on Juliana’s watch.
Jules had been bubbling over with excitement all week about class Spirit Night—every night the male kickline group met in her basement to practice their routine to “Barbie Girl.” Jen had gone over to watch their final rehearsal, and she had to admit, the sophomores would be hard to beat.
Ethan McCready and his hit list were the furthest things from anyone’s minds. Actual death was the only thing that could cast a cloud over class Spirit Night. Earlier in the week, Mrs. Coughlin wanted to cancel it, terrified that Ethan would show up and massacre everyone. She was always like that, working herself into a lather over something.
In the end, the administration had compromised on a police officer stationed outside the building. Mike Mejia was currently in the parking lot, having just bought a hunk of candy-corn fudge from the bake sale.
Bethany fanned herself with the paper listing the prices for the treats on the table. The gym was stifling, all those sweaty teenaged bodies bouncing off each other. The heat was making its way to where Jen and the other girls were sitting, just outside the gym.
Bethany swiveled in her chair and poked her head through the gym doors. “Where are those little bitches? I’m not missing the kickline.”
Jen rolled her eyes. The freshman girls on the team had drawn the short straw, stuck manning the bake sale table while the upperclassmen watched the guys dance. “Do you have to call them that?”
Bethany snorted. “You want to sit here instead?”
“They’ll come.” Jen looked away, feeling Bethany’s eyes on her still. “What?”
“What’s going on with you and Susan?” she asked. Colleen set down the cupcake she’d been fondling, suddenly interested.
“Nothing,” Jen said.
“You guys haven’t talked all week,” Colleen said.
“It’s our business, okay?”
Bethany leveled with Jen. “You know she’s just jealous of you, right?”
Bethany used shit talking as a form of currency; Jen knew Bethany only wanted her to say something nasty about Susan so she could trade it for something later. You’ll never guess what Jen said at Spirit Night. Bethany even talked about Colleen, her best friend, constantly, telling everyone what a slut she was.
“Why would Suz be jealous of me?” Jen said. “She’s pretty and she’s smarter than I am.”
“Because she has to work at it,” Bethany said. “Does she even sleep?”
A girl bounded through the gym doors and plopped down at the table. Jen jolted, terrified it was Susan and that she’d heard everything. But it was just one of the freshmen; two more followed, ready to relieve Jen, Bethany, and Colleen of their shift at the table.
Jen scanned the bleachers, looking for someone to sit with. Susan was sitting in the sophomores section with the girls she played tennis with. She was looking around the gym, wearing neon pink—the sophomore class color for this year—looking a little twitchy. When her gaze landed on Jen, her lips pinched together and she looked to the girl next to her, suddenly very interested in their conversation.
Hit her. Jen cracked her knuckles, a little disturbed by the thought that had streaked through her head. She’d never hit anyone in her life, not even her little sister, who definitely deserved it. But the sight of Susan sitting there, acting like Jen had done something wrong—it was too much.
Jen stalked up the bleachers to where her other friends were sitting—a group of girls she’d also grown up with. Most were in her honors classes; the others had either gone to Jessie’s Gym with her as kids or had been on her peewee soccer team.
She didn’t even realize that she didn’t see Juliana anywhere until the buzzer sounded and Mr. Heinz announced the freshman male kickline team. The crowd went nuts; Jen had to stand up with them to see the center of the gym, where the freshman boys were cartwheeling out.
When their routine was over, and Mr. Heinz shouted, “Let’s make some noise for the sophomores,” Jen scanned the gym for Juliana, finally finding her on the sidelines, cheering the sophomore guys on as they ran out to the center of the floor.
The guys all froze into different poses. “Barbie Girl” started blasting, and for those three minutes, Jen forgot Susan, forgot Ethan McCready, forgot how much everything sucked. Juliana had outdone herself. The guys were actually kind of good, and their strutting and preening had the crowd whooping and laughing.
Next to her, Christine Verni was giggling so uncontrollably she had to grab Jen’s arm for support. Jen smiled, the first real one she’d had in ages, and cheered along, cupping her hands around her mouth and hollering out to her guy friends who were dancing.