October 29, 1965

By the time report cards came out at the end of October, I'd managed to get my grades up a little bit. I was lucky enough that they were handed out in class, and not sent home for my parents to stumble across in our mailbox. I was proud of myself for doing what I could, but I knew even that wouldn't be enough for them.

I zipped it up in my backpack on Friday afternoon when seventh period-which was art class-was over. All of cheer practice, I was distracted thinking of what would be written on it. I'd done better than expected on my history essay, and I knew my overall grade had gone up from a C-, but it was still one of my worst classes. And I knew that if I thought my grades were bad, my parents would think they were even worse. I couldn't possibly let them find it.

Finally, Coach Brewster let us go, and we all headed back to the locker room. I changed as fast as I could and met up with Marcia once she had finished up. The teachers always told us to wait to open up our report cards until we got home, but everyone compared them with their friends right after class let out. We were no different. Our group had made it something of a tradition to show our grades to each other at the end of practice, and Scott and I usually read ours aloud to each other in the car before we showed our parents. Still, instead of the usual nine or ten, this time I only had three people to exchange grades with-just Marcia, Scott, and Randy-all of whom I knew would have better scores than me.

Marcia waved Randy over when we spotted him headed towards us. I already saw Scott with a few of his friends from track over by where the carpool line usually ended. He was grinning-enough for me to know his grades were at least decent. He'd always been the athletic one in our family, while I had always prioritized schoolwork over sports. That had never mattered to my parents, whose expectations were high no matter what they were for or which of their children they had been placed on.

"How do you think you did?" Marcia asked us that at the end of every quarter. I had always shrugged and told her I wasn't sure, while still knowing that my report card would soon be decorating my parents' fridge where everyone who entered our kitchen could see it and congratulate me. But this was not that feeling.

"One of you should go first this time," I said, dodging the question. I couldn't avoid opening the envelope for much longer, but I could still delay it for a few minutes more.

"I'll get mine over with, then," replied Marcia, unzipping her backpack and taking out her report card. Her grades were usually pretty good. "Let's see-I got an A in U.S. History, an A+ in P.E., an A- in Spanish, a B+ in pre-calculus, another A in physics, a B in English, and an A+ in art. Not so bad, I guess. I should've paid more attention on that quiz last month. How'd you do, Randy?"

"I pulled an A- in calculus," he answered. "Surprisingly enough. And then there's an A in English, an A+ in physics, an A in economics, a B+ in German, and an A in public speaking."

Since Randy was a football player, he and the rest of the team weren't required to take health or P.E., so they had room for a free period. Our school didn't count cheerleading as a sport, even though we practiced every day in the gym and were all worn out by the end of it. A couple of seniors had started a petition last year to change it, saying the rules were sexist (which they were, since us girls weren't allowed on any of the sports teams), but nothing had ever become of it.

I sighed. "At least two of us did well."
"It can't possibly be that bad, Cherry," Marcia told me. "You don't have to show us if you don't want to."

"I think I'll just read over it first," I replied. She nodded. I took the envelope out of my backpack, read it over, and promptly grimaced. "Well, I got a C in U.S. History, but that's the worst I have. I got a C+ in physics, another C+ in pre-calculus, a B in English, an A- in French, an A in P.E., and an A in art."

"That's not bad," said Randy.

I stuffed the envelope into my backpack again. "Maybe not by your standards," I said. "But by my parent's standards, I might as well just drop out of school." My voice quivered a little. "There goes Yale."

Marcia put an arm around me. "Not necessarily," she replied. "You've always gotten on the honor roll in the past. Besides, it's just one quarter. You can get yourself back on track."

"Yale isn't everything," added Randy. "I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about."

Marcia nodded. "Yeah. Just tell your parents you tried your best. I'm sure they'll understand."

That was nice of her to say, but my parents didn't take that for an answer. My mother tried to be as understanding as she could whenever one of us was struggling, but my father made it known to me when he was disappointed. Sometimes I wished I had parents like Marcia's-who practically let her get away with murder. Sure, they got angry with her from time to time, but they were far more lenient and encouraging to her and her two kid sisters. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit jealous of her. I longed for my parents' support, and they didn't always deliver.

"I sure hope they do," I replied. I heard Scott calling my name from the parking lot, so I started to head off. "That's Scott. I'll see you two at the game tonight."

"I think I'd better go, too," Marcia told us. "I'll try and catch you before the game, Randy."

Randy glanced at her. "Hey-I've been meaning to tell you all day-starting next week, I won't be practicing on Fridays."

Marcia looked confused. "What? Why not?"

"It's nothing," Randy said quickly. "Don't worry, alright? I'm fine."

"You know I'll worry," Marcia sighed, looking up at him wistfully. "I'll call you later. I should go."

She walked off towards her car, Randy staring at her helplessly as she crossed the parking lot. He turned back to me. "Good luck with your parents, Cherry."

Randy's parents were even worse than mine when it came to this kind of thing. His old man lectured him a lot, and his mother held grudges. My father liked to chide us, too, but he never raised his voice until we did, which wasn't very often. I knew my parents were pretty strict with me, but Randy's were nearly overbearing.

"I'll need it," I remarked. "See you later."

Scott was waiting for me by the car in the parking lot. He unlocked the doors, and we both got in. I put my backpack on the floor and crossed my arms.

"What happened to you?" Scott asked as he started up the engine. "How'd you do on your report card?"

"Don't ask," I replied. "Do me a favor and don't tell Dad we got them today?"

Scott turned on the radio. "Come on. How bad could it possibly be? It can't be any worse than mine."

I fished my report card out of my backpack and handed to him without saying a word. He looked it over and furrowed his eyebrows. "How'd that happen?"

"I dunno," I sighed. "I've just been distracted lately. I need a break from everything."

"Oh," replied Scott. I could tell he knew where our conversation was headed, so he diverted it away. "I mean, I was planning on going to a Halloween party tomorrow night with Jenny and Alan. You should come with us."

"I'll think about it," I said. "Who's hosting it?"
Scott pulled his car out of the parking space. "Kathleen. Aren't you two friends? I thought you'd know about it already, actually."

I was angry with Kathleen, sure, but hearing that stung. I'd never not been invited to one of her parties. They had been something I'd looked forward to for as long as I'd known her, and no one liked to miss out on them. Scott didn't go to parties much; he was much more quiet and reserved than I was and put most of his energy into track, but even he made an exception sometimes. He knew Kathleen. "I didn't," I told him. "You haven't heard? We all had a fight at the last one I went to. That's why I came home so early."

"You and Kathleen?" Scott asked. I nodded. "What'd she do?"

Scott was usually among the last to hear about whatever was happening at our school. He mostly kept to himself, and had stuck with the same five or six people all four years of high school. But I liked Scott's friends better than I did some of mine. They didn't keep secrets from each other, or go behind each other's backs, or do any of the things my old friends had done. I had always secretly wondered what that could possibly be like.

"It's a long story," I sighed. "But I can't trust her anymore. Besides, I don't have anything to wear."

"You don't even have to see her," Scott replied. "She won't even know you're there. Just stick with us. You know Jenny and Alan. And you can wear what you wore last year."

"I dunno," I said. "What's the point in going if no one else wants me there? I think I'd rather stay home."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," remarked Scott. I looked down.

I knew he was right. It wasn't like me to stay home. But it wasn't that easy. I couldn't just go back to being friends with Kathleen, no matter how much I missed her. And I couldn't just go to that party Saturday night. I liked Scott's friends, but they couldn't replace mine. I knew I wouldn't have fun if I spent the whole time watching everybody else enjoy themselves while I stood in a corner. So why even bother trying?

"Look, I know it's been rough," Scott continued. "With Bob and school and everything else. But you've gotta get back out there. Show Kathleen you can have a good time without her."

I hesitated. "You promise I won't have to talk to her?"

"'Course not," he answered. "You'll have a good time. And if you don't, I'll drive you home."

I didn't respond. As much as I wanted to say yes, I had my doubts about going. It was nice to know Scott cared about me, but he still didn't get it. The last thing I wanted was to cause another scene.

"Look, Sherri," Scott began when I remained silent. "Mom's worried about you. And, frankly, I am, too. You really should come with us. It'll get your mind off of things."

"I know," I muttered. "I'll come with you, alright? I don't want you to have to worry about me."

If Scott was worried, I couldn't imagine how upset my mother was. Even a conversation like this one between Scott and me was rare. I'd been surprised to find out that he was concerned for me, too. I hated to worry people, especially the people I cared about.

"That's good to hear," Scott told me. "Hey, I know we don't talk much, but we're still family. I've got to look out for you."

"Well, you don't need to worry so much," I replied. "I can look out for myself. I'm alright. Believe me."

"I do," he said. "And I know you can. But it's been a rough year. Sometimes you've just gotta worry. I'm here for you, alright?"

I nodded, and Scott turned the volume on the radio up a few notches. That was all he'd needed to say. Scott had always been one of the last people I'd expected to be able to talk to. He'd hardly said a word to me after everything happened-only giving me the occasional pitiful glance and doing a few of my chores for me. Still, it was nice to know he was there.

I went straight up to my room when we got home, thankful Scott had agreed to cover for me. Making sure it was carefully shut in its envelope, I hid my report card away in the top drawer of my dresser, where I was certain no one would ever find it. I'd show the next one to my parents, I was sure of it. They were still convinced I was their perfect daughter, and no one else would ever know that I wasn't.

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I had plans to get together for milkshakes with Randy and Marcia after the football game. We'd won; David had scored the winning touchdown for our team five seconds before the end of the game, leaving us with thirty-nine points to the other school's thirty-six. Buchanan had always been hard to beat, at football and basketball especially, not so much track or wrestling, so there was reason to celebrate. Still, none of us felt much like it.

I'd driven myself to the game; Scott had gone with some of his track friends a little after I'd left, so I'd been longing for company all afternoon. There was too much for me to worry about-I just needed one distraction.

The three of us met up at Joe's. Kids from both schools usually crowded the diner after games. I spotted Marcia among the eleven-or-so girls in cheerleading uniforms, sitting with Randy at the countertop. She waved when she saw me open the door. I sat down beside them.

"Hey," I greeted them. "Nice game, Randy."

"Thanks," he replied, forcing a smile. I'd done that so many times I could easily tell when anyone else was doing it, too. "How'd it go with your parents?"

"I didn't tell them," I answered. "I couldn't. They'd be so disappointed, you know it."

Marcia shook her head. "You've gotta tell them, Cherry. You can't hide it forever."

"I'll do better next time," I told her. "My grades aren't nearly as bad as they were, anyways. I'm getting them back up."
Just then, the waitress came over to take our orders, so our conversation saw a break. I ordered my usual-a vanilla milkshake with chocolate syrup drizzled over the top.

"Anyways," Marcia sighed. "Are either of you busy tomorrow night? I was thinking maybe we could all do something together, just like we used to."

"Funny you should ask," I replied. "Scott managed to convince me to come with him to Kathleen's party tomorrow night."

"Speak of the devil," Randy remarked, turning his head towards the door. My eyes darted across the room, to where I saw about half of the football team (Gary included) coming in with a group of cheerleaders from our school. I recognized Kathleen among them, as well as Nancy and Susan, along with David, Mike, and James. I looked away as quickly as I could.

"We'd better just ignore them," said Marcia. "Maybe they won't see us."

I eyed them warily. They didn't seem to notice us, and if they did, they weren't making it too obvious. Had they just gotten over our fight that easily, or were they just too wrapped up in themselves to care anymore? The way Kathleen had been looking at me lately led me to believe she did. But clearly she didn't care enough to approach me about it. As much as I knew I should forgive her if she was really sorry, she would have to show me first. And so far she hadn't so much as spoken to me.

"I don't know how he got me to come," I muttered. "I mean, I know Kathleen won't talk to me. And I doubt Scott's going to want his little sister to tag along with him and his friends the entire night."

Marcia shrugged. "There'll be other people there to talk to. You've always been just fine at meeting new people."

"I know," I sighed. "But I'm sure Susan's gotten to most of them first."
"Oh, no one believes half of what Susan says," Marcia told me. "Just trust me. I'm sure everything's going to turn out fine."

"But they listen anyway," I replied . "No matter if it's true or not. And there's nothing I can do about that."

"Why'd you agree to go with him in the first place?" Randy asked. "I've been staying away from the guys as much as I can. You two are all I've got right now."

"Surely that isn't so bad," said Marcia, a sarcastic tone in her voice.

"'Course it's not," Randy replied, grinning slightly. It was real this time. "But it's not the same as hanging out with my old friends, either."

"I know it sounds stupid," I said. "But Scott wants me to come. He told me he was worried about me, and I think I'd better go with him."

"You should probably go to the party, then," Marcia told me. "It'll be good for you. And, if you change your mind, you're always welcome to hang out with Randy and me."

"I'm busy tomorrow night," sighed Randy. Marcia frowned. "Sorry. I've got to watch my neighbor's kids."

"That's too bad," she replied. I felt sorry for her. I knew she'd been wanting more time with him. "And I've got a Spanish test Monday, and plans with my family Sunday, so that's off the table for me."

I'd never had to babysit before, since there weren't too many little kids in my part of the neighborhood. Besides, I got an allowance from my parents every week and worked part-time at a stable during the summer. I was too busy with cheerleading and homework during the school year for a job. But I had all the money I needed, and I was usually out on Friday and Saturday nights, anyways.

"I'm sure we can all find time to get together soon enough," I encouraged. I just hoped it was sooner rather than later. Life had been growing more and more lonely lately, and all I wanted was something to keep me occupied, even if it was just for a few hours.

The waitress handed us our glasses, and I thanked her. She headed towards the table in the back of the restaurant where I saw everyone else seated, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. I was nearly jealous for a second, but quickly snapped myself out of it. It didn't seem like they noticed us at all, much less cared whether or not we were even there. I couldn't figure out whether or not I was grateful for it.

"Don't pay them any mind," Randy told me. He must have seen me staring. "'Specially not Gary."

"You really don't like him, do you?" I asked him.

Randy shook his head. "I can't figure out what you ever saw in him, Cherry."

"Me, neither," Marcia piped up. The three of us laughed.

"It was just one dance," I pointed out. "Over a year ago. We were fifteen. I didn't think anything would ever come of it. And now he won't leave it alone. Just because I don't have a steady right now doesn't mean I'm interested in him anymore."

I'd gone to homecoming with Gary last year, and to a couple of movie dates over the next month or so. But the two of us just hadn't worked together. I'd thought he'd understand that when I called it off with him. Most of the other guys who'd taken me out had. Clearly, I'd been wrong. Gary hadn't left me alone until I'd started going steady with Bob at the beginning of the summer. He hadn't been quite so upfront about it, but it was the little things that he did that still made me uncomfortable. I had never made things official with him, yet he would still ask me to dance at every party we went to, and to the winter formal in February, even though I hadn't been planning on going. Even considering the circumstances, I was glad he was ignoring me now.

"How guys like Gary manage to get girls' numbers is completely beyond me," said Marcia. "He needs to get over himself."

I avoided talking badly about people as much as I could, but I had to agree with her. "I sure hope he does," I replied. "I don't need another problem to deal with."

"Believe me, I know," Randy sighed. "Don't let him get to you. Stay away from him as much as you can tomorrow night."

"I will," I told him. "I doubt he'll even know that I'm there."

A few minutes passed, and I was almost done with my milkshake. My curfew was pretty late on weekends, so I didn't needed to be home until eleven. Still, I was exhausted from the day, and I didn't like driving home myself too late at night. My parents didn't like that so much, either. The football game had gone on for pretty long, and it was already ten o'clock. The diner didn't close until ten thirty, since the manager knew it was where a lot of us kids hung out-after games, prom, and movies-so he liked to keep it open real late at night.

I got out my wallet and handed Randy a quarter so he could pay. "I think I should call it a night," I said. "Here's for the check."

"Thanks," he replied. "I think we'll stick around for a little longer, if that's okay with you, Marcia."

She nodded her head. "Sure it is. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Cherry. I hope the party goes alright."

"I do, too," I muttered. Marcia laughed. "See you two tomorrow."

I grabbed my purse and headed towards my car, pulling my ski jacket tighter as the autumn wind blew. I could hardly believe it was almost November already. These last few months had passed so quickly, and I was glad they were coming to an end. Maybe things would get better from here on out. I'd never had a colder autumn, but maybe winter would warm up a bit. I still had one last little shred of hope, probably from spending so much time around Marcia, and I was holding onto it for dear life.

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A/N: Girls actually weren't formally allowed on high school sports teams until 1972 (I looked it up), and I can totally imagine Cherry as someone who would definitely be annoyed with that. And yes, of course I consider cheerleading a sport. I don't see any reason why it wouldn't be.

I feel like I should apologize for making all of this terrible stuff happen to Randy, but I need to develop his character drastically because of who he is in TWTTIN. If it weren't for that, I promise I'd write about him overcoming his grief and becoming a happier person. Alas, that is not the path S.E. Hinton has paved for Randy, and I like sticking to book canon as much as I possibly can. I'm going to tell you this right now-things will not be going very well for him from here on out. There are going to be a couple chapters that are very unnecessarily sad.

I also feel like I should apologize for getting this posted so late (and I know the ending might have been a bit rushed). I had a lot of projects due this week, and as usual, writers' block. Hope you all have a merry Christmas or a happy belated Hanukkah (if you celebrate either one), and a happy holidays.