Even though I'd spent the rest of lunch washing my hand, I kept glancing
nervously at it throughout my next class. I was extremely paranoid. I was
usually so careful when it came to making sure that my secrets stayed
secret. I maintained an image when I was around people, and I was very good
at not breaking it. So how could I have gone all morning without noticing
something so major? My carelessness was unnerving.
"Okay. Go ahead, one row at a time, and get your materials from the back table," said my science teacher. These instructions brought me back from my thoughts. We were supposed to get everything we needed to begin the lab; I hadn't really been paying attention, but Larry Tudgemen was my partner, so I wasn't worried in the slightest. As I strolled over to the back table, I noticed Nic walking closely behind me.
"Hey, Kate," he said quietly as we started pulling out sticks of litmus paper.
"Hey," I said airily.
"I saw you run off at lunch. Are you okay?" His voice was sticky sweet, like left-over maple syrup. He was trying to sound genuinely concerned, but he was very bad at faking sincerity. Besides, I had seen him peering down my shirt earlier in class.
I wasn't fooled, but I played along nonetheless. "I'm fine. I was worried I'd gotten ketchup on my uniform, so I went to the bathroom to check." I suddenly became aware of Miranda, who was standing a few feet away from us. She was trying to look extremely interested in the bowl of cotton balls, but I was certain she was eavesdropping.
"But you weren't eating anything with ketchup on it, Kate."
I made eye-contact with him for the first time. I gazed at him confidently, giving him a look that let him know it wasn't smart to try and argue with me. "You're right, I wasn't. But one of your brother's friends was, and he was standing right next to me. I certainly hope you're not trying to imply that I'm lying, Nic."
He looked away, cowering down a bit under my intimidating gaze. "No way. I know you wouldn't do something like that." He slipped back into his sugary ass-kissing voice again. "But, listen, Kate. I noticed Ethan was a little, well... frisky with you at lunch. I could tell it was making you uncomfortable." I rolled my eyes at him, but he continued. He seemed quite convinced that I was eating all this bull shit right out of the palm of his hand. "I'm not accusing anyone, of course. I don't want to butt into something that's none of my business. Ethan's my best friend, after all." He looked up at me with sappy, phony eyes. I recognized the look immediately; I invented that look, for Christ's sake. He moved ever-so- slightly closer to me. "But you're my friend, too, Kate. You know that if Ethan ever pushes you, I'm here for you, right?"
Inside, I was laughing hysterically. The predictability of some people can be sickening. I had known for awhile now that Nic had been wanting me. The fact that I was his best friend's girlfriend of six months, and practically unreachable to him, had likely made me even more desirable; an intriguing challenge, perhaps, in his mind. I was tremendously amused by how tactless he had been. The minute he spotted a weak point, as soon as Ethan wasn't around, he moved in for the kill. I had to admit to myself, though, that my best friend would probably do the same thing. Claire wouldn't hesitate to snatch up Ethan if she ever had the chance.
Doesn't anyone have a sense of loyalty to the ones they care about? I thought cynically to myself. I then recognized the irony and absurdity of my own question. I, of all people, knew that to be attached to someone was a weakness.
Nic reached out and touched my shoulder lightly. When he saw my eyes, however, he quickly removed it. Ambitious as he was, he still couldn't perform well under the pressure of my icy glare. "Just wanted you to know I'm looking out for you."
I shrugged indifferently. "Whatever." I walked away with a flip of my hair.
* * * *
Near 4:00 that afternoon, I was sitting around in a clump of cheerleaders in one corner of the football field. We were an explosion of royal blue against the freshly-cut green grass. Teenage girl chatter buzzed around me as I sat beneath the scorching sun. I could feel salty sweat accumulating in my thick hair, and I already knew I would have to completely re-curl it before the game that night. Senior Penny Hawkens, our co-captain, was squatting beside me, painting "Go Cats!" on my cheek. The cold blue paint felt soothing against my warm skin.
Penny was my cheerleading Big Sis, supposedly my mentor in the world of cheering. I sincerely looked up to Penny. She was a tall and well-built girl with gorgeous auburn hair that accented her cream-colored flesh. She was commanding, persuasive, manipulating, and an absolute bitch most of the time. She was dating Jordan, led the Prom Committee, and was a powerful figure in Hillridge High. She was nearly everything that I aspired to be.
The game wouldn't start for a few more hours, but we were already making preparations. When our faces were bedecked with blue and white paw prints and silver glitter, we starting blowing up balloons with a helium tank and lining the fence with blue crepe paper. We spray-painted a huge paper sign for the players to run through that read, "WILDCATS", as well as several smaller ones to hang up around the stadium. The Freshman members of the squad had it the worst. While the other girls took a break, we filled several chests full of ice and sodas and carried them to our sideline area, the visiting cheerleader's area, the concession stand, and even up to the press box. I absolutely despised it, not so much because it was hard work, but because the older cheerleaders and random football players who were beginning to arrive were able to watch us. It was a mark of our lower status. Being a Freshman wasn't easy for me, because I was used to being at the top.
The sky was a mixture of purple, pink, and orange as the sun set during our dinner break. The stadium lights were turned on, and band members were arriving and putting their instruments together. There was about an hour before the game. The squad spread out over our corner of the field and started warming up. I sat down in a straddle position, leaned over, and stretched out my arms against the soft grass. As a performed various stretches, I observed the other cheerleaders. Everyone on the squad was powerfully built, with smooth, muscular legs and soft curves. Their eyes were deep in concentration as they stretched and contorted their beautiful bodies.
I adore cheerleading. It represents so much of what I value. Nearly all of being a good cheerleader is how you present yourself. You have to take care of your body, make sure it's supple and shapely. That's not an option, it's a nessecity. You have to have strength and intensity when you perform, but you also have to be graceful and feminine. Even though alot of people don't realize the skill cheerleading takes, it does involve a great deal of technique and precision. You have to always smile and be energetic, no matter what you feel like inside. We worked our asses off, but we still maintained the ditzy cheerleader persona and made it look easy. That's so much like the way I lived my life. I used strength and expertism to get what I wanted, and hid it behind simple beauty.
Night fell, the band started playing songs, people poured into the stadium, and the air grew heavy with the excitement of the game. Outside the stadium was mostly darkness, but inside the lights were painfully bright and the place buzzed with energy. I was in my element. I was in cheerleader mode, being one of the beautiful people. The feeling of hundreds of eyes on me gave me a rush of pleasure. Everyone felt the flurry and elation that hovered in the atmosphere, and as one of the beautiful girls in blue I was a symbol to them of that great feeling. I knew that I was one of few who could see the poeticism in it.
There was a constant flow of people along the thoroughfare beside the cheerleader's sideline area. I basked in the different glances people would give the cheerleaders. No matter who they were, or who they thought they were, everyone looked at one point or another. It didn't matter what they thought when they saw me, it was the fact that they had had to think at all. They couldn't ignore me, I was unable to go unnoticed. Sometimes I was envied by them, sometimes I was admired. Sometimes they were impressed, sometimes they were disgusted. No matter what, though, they always had to give a thought to me.
I saw Ethan among the crowd several times throughout the game. He was, of course, not on the football team. Ethan had never been a jock. Although being on the team had aided the social status of many of the players, that was not how Ethan achieved his popularity. He was a socialite, like me. People were drawn to him; his personality was infectious. You wouldn't imagine that someone as plainly stupid as Ethan would be "infectious", but to many people his naivity comes off as mystery. He's just so blindly honest, and people can't get enough of that. I suppose that works for some people. It's a direction I could never go, of course. If I were to be honest with who I was, my thoughts would most definitely betray me.
Being on the cheerleading squad meant I had to give up the opportunity to socialize at the game. For the sake of the benefits that came with the title, "cheerleader," I could deal with that. In any case, Ethan's presence at the games was more than enough to earn my social quota for the day. Every time he passed me, he would give me a look or a wave. When the people around him saw these gestures, they would be reminded of who I was. They would take notice of me, yet again, and be reminded of my status.
And I saw Lizzie. She wasn't followed by a swarm of jabbering people like Ethan had been. She just sauntered happily with Miranda and Gordo, smiling and seemingly content with her less than thrilling social life. I admired her loyalty to Gordo and Miranda. Despite how very different they were from one another, they still managed to always take care of each other. With popular people, things didn't work like that. You didn't worry about differences; everyone was exactly the same. And no one took care of each other. Alliances were made, but everyone looked out for themselves alone.
Lizzie, Miranda, and Gordo had once been my friends. I had briefly been a part of that intriguing bond. But of course I moved on, and found a different niche. It was fascinating to think that even though the four of us were in the exact same stadium that night, we were in completely different worlds.
"Okay. Go ahead, one row at a time, and get your materials from the back table," said my science teacher. These instructions brought me back from my thoughts. We were supposed to get everything we needed to begin the lab; I hadn't really been paying attention, but Larry Tudgemen was my partner, so I wasn't worried in the slightest. As I strolled over to the back table, I noticed Nic walking closely behind me.
"Hey, Kate," he said quietly as we started pulling out sticks of litmus paper.
"Hey," I said airily.
"I saw you run off at lunch. Are you okay?" His voice was sticky sweet, like left-over maple syrup. He was trying to sound genuinely concerned, but he was very bad at faking sincerity. Besides, I had seen him peering down my shirt earlier in class.
I wasn't fooled, but I played along nonetheless. "I'm fine. I was worried I'd gotten ketchup on my uniform, so I went to the bathroom to check." I suddenly became aware of Miranda, who was standing a few feet away from us. She was trying to look extremely interested in the bowl of cotton balls, but I was certain she was eavesdropping.
"But you weren't eating anything with ketchup on it, Kate."
I made eye-contact with him for the first time. I gazed at him confidently, giving him a look that let him know it wasn't smart to try and argue with me. "You're right, I wasn't. But one of your brother's friends was, and he was standing right next to me. I certainly hope you're not trying to imply that I'm lying, Nic."
He looked away, cowering down a bit under my intimidating gaze. "No way. I know you wouldn't do something like that." He slipped back into his sugary ass-kissing voice again. "But, listen, Kate. I noticed Ethan was a little, well... frisky with you at lunch. I could tell it was making you uncomfortable." I rolled my eyes at him, but he continued. He seemed quite convinced that I was eating all this bull shit right out of the palm of his hand. "I'm not accusing anyone, of course. I don't want to butt into something that's none of my business. Ethan's my best friend, after all." He looked up at me with sappy, phony eyes. I recognized the look immediately; I invented that look, for Christ's sake. He moved ever-so- slightly closer to me. "But you're my friend, too, Kate. You know that if Ethan ever pushes you, I'm here for you, right?"
Inside, I was laughing hysterically. The predictability of some people can be sickening. I had known for awhile now that Nic had been wanting me. The fact that I was his best friend's girlfriend of six months, and practically unreachable to him, had likely made me even more desirable; an intriguing challenge, perhaps, in his mind. I was tremendously amused by how tactless he had been. The minute he spotted a weak point, as soon as Ethan wasn't around, he moved in for the kill. I had to admit to myself, though, that my best friend would probably do the same thing. Claire wouldn't hesitate to snatch up Ethan if she ever had the chance.
Doesn't anyone have a sense of loyalty to the ones they care about? I thought cynically to myself. I then recognized the irony and absurdity of my own question. I, of all people, knew that to be attached to someone was a weakness.
Nic reached out and touched my shoulder lightly. When he saw my eyes, however, he quickly removed it. Ambitious as he was, he still couldn't perform well under the pressure of my icy glare. "Just wanted you to know I'm looking out for you."
I shrugged indifferently. "Whatever." I walked away with a flip of my hair.
* * * *
Near 4:00 that afternoon, I was sitting around in a clump of cheerleaders in one corner of the football field. We were an explosion of royal blue against the freshly-cut green grass. Teenage girl chatter buzzed around me as I sat beneath the scorching sun. I could feel salty sweat accumulating in my thick hair, and I already knew I would have to completely re-curl it before the game that night. Senior Penny Hawkens, our co-captain, was squatting beside me, painting "Go Cats!" on my cheek. The cold blue paint felt soothing against my warm skin.
Penny was my cheerleading Big Sis, supposedly my mentor in the world of cheering. I sincerely looked up to Penny. She was a tall and well-built girl with gorgeous auburn hair that accented her cream-colored flesh. She was commanding, persuasive, manipulating, and an absolute bitch most of the time. She was dating Jordan, led the Prom Committee, and was a powerful figure in Hillridge High. She was nearly everything that I aspired to be.
The game wouldn't start for a few more hours, but we were already making preparations. When our faces were bedecked with blue and white paw prints and silver glitter, we starting blowing up balloons with a helium tank and lining the fence with blue crepe paper. We spray-painted a huge paper sign for the players to run through that read, "WILDCATS", as well as several smaller ones to hang up around the stadium. The Freshman members of the squad had it the worst. While the other girls took a break, we filled several chests full of ice and sodas and carried them to our sideline area, the visiting cheerleader's area, the concession stand, and even up to the press box. I absolutely despised it, not so much because it was hard work, but because the older cheerleaders and random football players who were beginning to arrive were able to watch us. It was a mark of our lower status. Being a Freshman wasn't easy for me, because I was used to being at the top.
The sky was a mixture of purple, pink, and orange as the sun set during our dinner break. The stadium lights were turned on, and band members were arriving and putting their instruments together. There was about an hour before the game. The squad spread out over our corner of the field and started warming up. I sat down in a straddle position, leaned over, and stretched out my arms against the soft grass. As a performed various stretches, I observed the other cheerleaders. Everyone on the squad was powerfully built, with smooth, muscular legs and soft curves. Their eyes were deep in concentration as they stretched and contorted their beautiful bodies.
I adore cheerleading. It represents so much of what I value. Nearly all of being a good cheerleader is how you present yourself. You have to take care of your body, make sure it's supple and shapely. That's not an option, it's a nessecity. You have to have strength and intensity when you perform, but you also have to be graceful and feminine. Even though alot of people don't realize the skill cheerleading takes, it does involve a great deal of technique and precision. You have to always smile and be energetic, no matter what you feel like inside. We worked our asses off, but we still maintained the ditzy cheerleader persona and made it look easy. That's so much like the way I lived my life. I used strength and expertism to get what I wanted, and hid it behind simple beauty.
Night fell, the band started playing songs, people poured into the stadium, and the air grew heavy with the excitement of the game. Outside the stadium was mostly darkness, but inside the lights were painfully bright and the place buzzed with energy. I was in my element. I was in cheerleader mode, being one of the beautiful people. The feeling of hundreds of eyes on me gave me a rush of pleasure. Everyone felt the flurry and elation that hovered in the atmosphere, and as one of the beautiful girls in blue I was a symbol to them of that great feeling. I knew that I was one of few who could see the poeticism in it.
There was a constant flow of people along the thoroughfare beside the cheerleader's sideline area. I basked in the different glances people would give the cheerleaders. No matter who they were, or who they thought they were, everyone looked at one point or another. It didn't matter what they thought when they saw me, it was the fact that they had had to think at all. They couldn't ignore me, I was unable to go unnoticed. Sometimes I was envied by them, sometimes I was admired. Sometimes they were impressed, sometimes they were disgusted. No matter what, though, they always had to give a thought to me.
I saw Ethan among the crowd several times throughout the game. He was, of course, not on the football team. Ethan had never been a jock. Although being on the team had aided the social status of many of the players, that was not how Ethan achieved his popularity. He was a socialite, like me. People were drawn to him; his personality was infectious. You wouldn't imagine that someone as plainly stupid as Ethan would be "infectious", but to many people his naivity comes off as mystery. He's just so blindly honest, and people can't get enough of that. I suppose that works for some people. It's a direction I could never go, of course. If I were to be honest with who I was, my thoughts would most definitely betray me.
Being on the cheerleading squad meant I had to give up the opportunity to socialize at the game. For the sake of the benefits that came with the title, "cheerleader," I could deal with that. In any case, Ethan's presence at the games was more than enough to earn my social quota for the day. Every time he passed me, he would give me a look or a wave. When the people around him saw these gestures, they would be reminded of who I was. They would take notice of me, yet again, and be reminded of my status.
And I saw Lizzie. She wasn't followed by a swarm of jabbering people like Ethan had been. She just sauntered happily with Miranda and Gordo, smiling and seemingly content with her less than thrilling social life. I admired her loyalty to Gordo and Miranda. Despite how very different they were from one another, they still managed to always take care of each other. With popular people, things didn't work like that. You didn't worry about differences; everyone was exactly the same. And no one took care of each other. Alliances were made, but everyone looked out for themselves alone.
Lizzie, Miranda, and Gordo had once been my friends. I had briefly been a part of that intriguing bond. But of course I moved on, and found a different niche. It was fascinating to think that even though the four of us were in the exact same stadium that night, we were in completely different worlds.