The Cheerleaders(71)

Alexa opens her mouth, but Rach freezes her with a look. She must have told Alexa about my meltdown before the memorial this morning. They both must assume I had it out with Mrs. Coughlin at some point today, because neither of them asks me why Coughlin wrote me up.

Rach lets us into the car. Neither she nor Alexa questions why Ginny missed practice either, and I don’t offer that information. Ginny already left to catch the late bus on the other side of the school.

“Well, at least it’s Spirit Night,” Alexa says.

I wince. I completely forgot to tell them that I’m not allowed to go tonight.

“About that,” I say. “I can’t go.”

“What the hell, Monica?” Rachel is studying me, silent.

I can’t look at her. “My mom flipped out because of the detention.”

Alexa leans forward and puts her arms around my headrest. “Let’s go to your house. Rach and I will convince her you have to go.”

“Lex. Seriously. You do not want to do that.”

My voice must be scary, because Alexa promptly shuts her mouth. She buries herself in her phone for the rest of the ride to her house; Rach has to turn the radio up, the silence is so awkward.

When we drop Alexa off at her house, Rachel looks at me head-on. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “Things are just messed up with my family right now. They always are at this time of year.”

Rachel puts the car in reverse and inches out of Alexa’s driveway. When we’re on the main road again, she eyes me. “Why can’t you talk to me about it? Bethany was my cousin. I understand.”

I look away from her so she can’t see my face flush with annoyance. She can’t possibly understand. Jen was my sister, and her death will never compare with Rachel losing a cousin she didn’t even like.

“I don’t talk to anyone about it,” I say. “It’s nothing personal.”

After a beat, Rach speaks, her voice frosty. “Do you talk to Ginny Cordero about it?”

I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “Rach, don’t do this.”

She doesn’t have much else to say to me until she pulls into my driveway and I get out of the car. “I got the triple today,” she says. “In case you were wondering.”



* * *



—

I don’t want my mother to figure out that barring me from going to Spirit Night is the best gift she could have given me this week, so I make sure to be quiet and sulky during dinner.

As I’m clearing the table of pizza grease–stained paper plates, I force myself to look at my mom. “Can I go to the Newton versus Shrewsbury football game tomorrow?”

She blinks, as if she can’t grasp how I could possibly have the balls to ask her that. “You’re still grounded.”

Tom’s head snaps up from the garlic knot he’d been polishing off. “Grounded? Why?”

Mom doesn’t look at him as she collects balled-up dirty napkins from the table. “She got detention.”

“Seriously?” Tom looks at me.

“For the stupidest reason,” I say. “I’m really sorry. I’ll come straight home after the game.”

My mother inhales sharply as Tom sits back in his chair. “Why do you want to see Newton versus Shrewsbury anyway?”

“My friend Ginny’s cousin is playing,” I say. “He’s Newton’s running back.”

Tom is incapable of saying no to football. He raises his eyebrows at Mom. Her lips form a line, and I can tell she’s feeling guilty about making me miss Spirit Night when she can’t stand Mrs. Coughlin either.

“Fine,” she says. “Straight home, though.”

When her back is turned, Tom gives me a triumphant smile. For some reason, it makes my stomach turn over.

I wake up early in the morning. I went to bed at ten, for lack of anything better to do, and the sunrise leaking in through my blinds has me flopping between positions, unable to fall back asleep.

Mrs. Cordero doesn’t have to work until tonight, so Ginny can borrow her car to drive us to the game. I shower and blow-dry my hair, and when Petey wakes up at eight, I even sit at the kitchen island with him as he eats breakfast, listening to his plans for the model Vietnam Veterans Memorial he’s designing for his social studies class.

The game doesn’t start until two, and the school is only twenty minutes away, but Ginny picks me up at one. Newton High School East’s team is ranked first in the county. Their games sell out quickly, and we want to make sure we find a parking spot.

Newton East’s campus is a lot bigger than Sunnybrook’s, and even though the game doesn’t start for another half hour, Ginny has to fight for a parking spot several hundred yards from the field.

The spot is a tight squeeze; I climb out of the car to help direct Ginny into it. When she gets out of the car, she’s put on a knit cap with earflaps. “Ready?”

I nod, and we fall into step with a crowd of people heading for the field. A group of tailgaters gathered around a charcoal grill starts to boo. I tense up, worried they’ve somehow recognized Ginny and me. Then I see the real object of their scorn—a pack of high school kids behind me, wearing green and white. Shrewsbury’s colors.

Ginny protests when I pay the fourteen-dollar admission fee for the two of us.