“How gentlemanly of you.”
“You got it, Paisano. Anytime.”
I smiled at his familiar greeting. “Having fun tonight?”
“Always. Did you see Pete?”
“That’s becoming a popular question.”
He laughed. “Cut him some slack, Anna. He’s a sarcastic son of a bitch but a nice guy.”
“I have no problem with him. I think it’s the other way around.”
“He’ll come around. He’d be an idiot not to.”
“What about you. Are you seeing anyone?”
“This stud has got a little something going with Lindsey Mahew. At least I think I do.” We laughed.
I touched my cup to his. “Here’s to figuring it out.”
Michelle and I compared notes when we got home, whispering in my room. We both agreed it was a great party. Pete and I didn’t talk further, but we caught each other staring, which thrilled me. Maybe we could be friendly again. I enjoyed talking with Mary and Jim and even did some headbanging with Tez. He had to name the bands, as I still lacked enough “music education” from Pete to confidently identify rock bands.
Honoring my pledge, I controlled the beer intake, not even getting close to drunk. The best part of the night may have been the absence of the wrenching anxiety following me for so many months. I’d genuinely enjoyed myself.
Michelle talked to Steve, but didn’t pick up a romantic vibe. I told her I suspected he liked Jaime. We both giggled about seeing Jake and Manny’s near-naked hot bods as they exited the hot tub—sheer luck at being in the right place at the right time. We continued our hushed conversation until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer.
For the first time in months, there were no nightmares or wakeful anxious episodes where I studied the digital numbers slowly flipping on my clock—just thick, dreamless blissful sleep.
15
Gimme an A
After a week of Michelle’s incessant pleas, I agreed to try out for the Skyline High cheer squad with her. Some girls dreamed of being a cheerleader, but I had never given it any thought. I wasn’t opposed to it exactly, but it was, like, Hokey City. Katy deemed the whole business idiotic and wouldn’t join us despite Michelle’s efforts.
Twenty-five of us showed up at the meeting for sign-ups, but I only recognized six faces. From that day forward, we reported after school three days a week to learn two cheers we would perform at our tryout. The seven members of the current squad treated us super nice and exhibited endless patience as coaching ensued.
“Michelle, hold your arms level, like this,” said Tina, one of the cheerleaders. “And watch your fingers. They should be straight and flat.”
I glanced at my friend. No matter how hard she tried, she lacked coordination. Cheerleading required more than jumping around and yelling. It turned out to be way tougher than I’d thought. The practices were hard work, but I caught on fast. I possessed powerful arms and legs, and now they performed on cue, straight and strong with precision. Another bonus: I had inherited the famous booming Trapani voice, resulting in a loud instrument. It shocked me to realize I enjoyed this cheerleading gig after all.
I worried about Michelle. If she didn’t ace her movements, she had no prayer of making the squad, which would devastate her. There were six spots and only two more weeks before tryouts. The seventh slot was for the head cheerleader, but the school voted her in at the end of the year along with class officers.
I adjusted my pink Dolfin shorts, the silky nylon fabric constantly twisted around. They matched my white socks with the rose pom-poms sticking out from my sneakers. I tightened my ponytail and glanced over at the bleachers. An audience had gathered, including a few guys from the soccer team, one of them Pete.
When we finished, I walked over to say hello. Pete and I had exchanged polite greetings and even minor friendly banter ever since Jaime’s party. My comfort level around him increased daily…along with my heart palpitations.
“Hey, rah rah girl,” Tez said.
I rolled my eyes. I did not like this favored nickname for cheerleaders.
“If you make the squad, are you going to cheer for the soccer team?” asked Steve.
“What do you mean if?” said Pete. “Anna’s got nothing to worry about. She’s running circles around those other girls out there.”
My cheeks flamed. Maybe my already-flushed complexion camouflaged it. “I’m happy to come cheer for you guys.”
“They never have,” added Jim.
“Has someone talked to the director about it? I don’t see why we wouldn’t support as many sports as possible.”
Pete pointed to Jim. “We already have our own cheering squad right here.”
Jim elbowed him in the ribs. “That would be team motivator to you, asshole.”
“What a shame practice is over. I was enjoying the view,” said Steve.
I glanced at the nearly three-dozen girls in shorts and tank tops, some bending over collecting their belongings.
“For real,” Jim said wistfully.
I laughed.
“Let’s go smoke one,” Pete said.
My mother waited by the gate. “I gotta go. See ya guys.”
“Keep on kicking ass, Paisano.”
Pete saluted and Steve waved. I smiled and ran off to meet my mom.
That night after doing the dishes, I finished my homework. Pulling out my journal, I flipped on my stomach and stretched out on my bed, propping myself up on my elbows. I intended to write something positive.
Things are looking up. I think I have a chance to make the cheerleading squad. I actually like what I originally thought was a hella moronic idea. The girls teaching us the moves are really sweet, and the closer tryouts come, the more I want to be one of them! Pete gave me the nicest compliment
