CHAPTER 6
“There you are!” Stacy said, exasperated. “Come on already! We’ve been waiting forever.”
She didn’t bother waiting for me to answer. She shot a nasty look in Clayton’s direction, then took me by the arm and led me into the girls’ locker room. And right before the door slammed behind us, I looked back and saw Clayton’s face, his expression twisted, like he’d eaten something nasty and didn’t have any place to spit it out.
I tried to shove the imprint of that expression out of my head as Stacy tugged me through the girls’ locker room and out through the rear door that opened on the parking lot. “Um, shouldn’t I change or something?” I asked, hooking a thumb toward the lockers that were disappearing behind the fast-shutting door.
She just looked at me, lifted an eyebrow, and kept on walking.
I hurried after. “I’m supposed to be coming to a practice, right? I can’t do gymnastics in jeans.”
“God, Beth,” she said in a totally bored voice. “How is it you manage to make all those stellar grades without having anything remotely resembling a brain in your head?”
I probably would have turned around and gone home right then if we hadn’t been halfway across the parking lot and in view of the bleachers. I couldn’t make out faces yet, but I knew Stephen Wills was there. And so was Tamara and the rest of the squad. This was real. My transcript needed it. (And, yes, I even kind of wanted it.)
So I ignored Stacy’s catty remarks and kept on.
Actual football games aren’t played at our school. But like every other school in the country, we had our own practice field, complete with wooden bleachers under which many a girl has misplaced her virginity.
For the record, I should say that my virginity is perfectly intact. I mean, I’ve got a life planned. And I’m not really into the whole single parent idea. My parents have only been divorced for six months, and I can already tell that it sucks. (Well, actually dual parenting sucked, too. My parents really weren’t cut out to procreate. From a philosophical standpoint, though, I guess I should be glad they did.)
To be honest, so far I hadn’t gone out with any boy I’d be willing to let in my pants. Hand up my shirt, yes. I’m not a prude or a complete loser or anything. And—since I’m confessing all—I will say that I was eyeing the bleachers with more than a little thrill of anticipation. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with fantasy, right? Fantasy that ended about third base and consisted of Stephen telling Tamara and the rest of the crowd to get lost.
Yeah, I thought. I could handle that kind of a fantasy just fine.
As we got closer, I could see Stephen sitting with Chris, Ennis, Derek, and Nelson (yet more football players). Lisa, Joan, and Melissa—the other girls on the squad—were on the field practicing some jumps and lifts. And I’ve got to say, they rocked. I’ve been doing gymnastics as long as dance, and jumping into the kind of midair flips they were doing is a lot harder than it looks (and it looks pretty dang hard!).
As cheerleading squads go, Waterloo’s is pretty small. Six girls total. The three on the field, Stacy, Tamara, and—apparently—me.
Most of the other high school squads in our division have more girls (this is the kind of fact you pick up as the editor of the paper). Last year, in fact, the squad had eight girls. The year before that, ten. Ladybell’s been cutting the size of the team every year, even as she increases the size of the drill team. The drill team is pretty much like the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. A whole kickline of bouncing, dancing girls. Apparently Ladybell was more into the dance end of things than the gymnastics end of things.
And considering she wasn’t at my little audition, I had to figure I was right. Drill team, check. Cheerleading, not as much of a priority.
Apparently, my guide for the afternoon was Tamara. Who, I couldn’t help but notice, wasn’t practicing with the other girls. That’s because she was curled up on Stephen’s lap nibbling on his neck.
At least now my nausea wasn’t just from nerves. I mean, ick.
Then again, maybe it was nerves. Or portents of doom. Or something.
Maybe Clayton was right. Maybe this was all a big mistake. After all, a stellar college application is one thing, but did I really want to spend the rest of the school year watching Tamara suck face with Stephen?
I did not, and I took a little break to run through every other extracurricular activity at Waterloo. I’d just about decided to take up the tuba (ha-ha) when I heard my name. I looked up and saw Stephen Wills walking toward me, a huge smile on his face and his arms out to his sides. Like he was going to grab me in a bear hug.
My palms started sweating and my stomach did little flip-flops, like it does before I stand up in class to read a paper or debate a point or something.
Yes, I know. Where was my pride? Tamara was right there. Probably smirking. And since Stephen obviously belonged to her—I could even see a red mark on his neck, where she’d obviously managed a hickey—my fantasies dissolved as fast as cotton candy dunked in water. But right then, I couldn’t move. His eyes were on me, sucking me in, and I simply couldn’t lift my feet. Stephen had cast a spell over me, and I couldn’t do anything but stand there and then—slowly—walk toward him.
“Elizabeth!” I expected his outstretched arms to pull me in, so I was shocked when he stopped right in front of me, took my hand in his, and kissed it, just like a knight courting his lady.
I couldn’t help glancing over toward Tamara. And even more, I couldn’t help rubbing in my little victory by smiling at her, wide and bright.
She glared, looked away, then shot me one hate-filled look before rummaging through her purse for lip gloss.
As she started to freshen her makeup, I started to melt. Because Stephen was still holding my hand and the rising moon hung huge in the sky, cutting through the early evening darkness. Night came early now that we were already into November, and I was grateful. In the dark, I hoped, Stephen wouldn’t be able to see me blush.
“You came,” he said, in this supersexy voice. The kind that gets a guy a radio show. Or at least gets him the girl. “So it’s settled. I’m so thrilled you agreed to join the squad.”
“Ah . . . um . . .” I said, because I hadn’t officially agreed to do anything yet. But as I looked into Stephen’s excessively blue eyes, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I was hesitating. There was something weirdly hypnotic about his eyes. I felt a little like I was falling into them. Like I could get lost and happily spend eternity being a cheerleader to Stephen’s football star. My lips felt all tingly, and I think I even leaned in.
But then he blinked.
He blinked, and so did I, and the fuzz in my head cleared and I realized that his pupils were as tiny as pinpricks. But it was dark! the science geek in my brain yelled. His pupils should be huge!
“Stephen,” I said, my hand automatically going to his forehead. “Are you okay?”
He pushed my hand roughly away. “I’m fine.”
“Your eyes. They’re—”
He pressed a finger over his lips, and his eyes were on me again, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why I was so concerned.
“I thought we could have a picnic. Just you and me.”
“Oh.” My loins quivered a little. No, really. I’m not sure I’ve ever in my life used the word “loins” before, but there was really no other way to describe it. They were quivering. And the fuzz in my brain was coming back. I knew I was supposed to be protesting about something, but I couldn’t remember what. “But . . .” I trailed off, baffled and lust-filled.
“But?” he repeated.
I closed my eyes, exasperated with myself, and the fuzz in my brain melted. “I didn’t realize we’d decided anything,” I said. I looked back up at him. “I thought I was coming here to check out the squad. See if I fit in.”
“Are you saying no?”
“I—” I tried to concentrate, but was having a hard time of it. I wished Jenny had come with me, because all of a sudden, my evening was feeling very surreal.
“If she doesn’t want it, we can get someone else.” Tamara, I realized, was standing right next to us. She brushed a finger over his neck, and I noticed that the hickey had completely faded. Not even the tiniest of red marks. “She’s not the only one who can do this, you know,” Tamara added, shooting me a hateful glare.
“Shut up, Tamara,” Stephen said. For a second, I thought she was going to answer back. Then she spun on her heel and marched back toward the bleachers.
Stephen turned to me, the hardness melting away. “You will join the squad. Won’t you?”
“I . . .” I trailed off, suddenly unsure.
“Excellent,” he said, as if everything was decided. “You can start practices tomorrow.” He nodded toward the field. “We’ve got beer, blankets. And there’s no practice tonight. The girls are just fooling around.” As if to illustrate the point, Melissa, Joan, and Lisa moved toward Ennis, Derek, and Nelson. I’d known that Melissa was dating Ennis (they’d been together since kindergarten) but Joan and Lisa’s boy toys were a new one to me.
Stacy, of course, was parked on Chris’s lap.
And that, I noticed, left Tamara the odd cheerleader out.
No wonder she hated me.
My hesitation must have shown on my face, because he took my hand again. “Come on, Elizabeth. It’s your birthday. Let go a little.”
If I were as smart as I think I am, warning bells would have gone off in my head. But the only bells that were sounding up there were happy chimes. Stephen Wills knew my birthday! How utterly amazing was that?
As it turned out, not nearly as amazing as the next thing he said. “I’m glad you came. I told Tamara if she couldn’t get you on the squad, then to not bother getting anyone else.”
“I—” I blinked, trying hard to process his words. “You’re the one who told Tamara to put me on the squad?”
“Sure.”
“But . . . but why?”
“I like you. I want you.”
I should have protested. I should have listened to Clayton. Heck, I should have listened to my gut.
I should have said this was too weird and walked away.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything. Because Stephen Wills was bending toward me, and when his lips touched mine, he captured me forever.