Pete acted petulant during school, not talking much, giving me perfunctory kisses and muttering sarcastic remarks. I lavished attention on him, illustrating how much he meant to me and conversely, how little the football players did. I hated missing his game, but I had no time to dwell on it as our cheer squad worked all afternoon and well past dinner getting the decorations ready for the big event.
The next night, the cheerleaders gathered at Mac’s house for Night Raiders. While the coaches kept the football players busy watching game films, we planned to sneak into their homes and decorate their bedrooms with Titan pride. The surprise was designed to lift the player’s spirits and motivate them to play harder.
Mac split us into teams, pairing me with Suzi, and off we went.
The players’ mothers treated us well, and most had made their sons clean up so we didn’t see what kind of slobs they were. Suzi had a crush on Darrin, one of the players on our list. I almost choked when she left him a love note, remembering Pete’s accusation. I would definitely keep that little tidbit to myself.
When we finished the last room, we admired our handiwork with smug satisfaction. A red and white explosion of epic proportion. Suzi and I drove back to Mac’s to regroup with the other girls and compare notes. Admittedly, the whole affair was fun, despite the angst it created with Pete.
The following day, at least fifteen hulking football players picked me up in the air at various times to say thank you. I appreciated their gratitude, but it didn’t score me any points with my boyfriend, who was sulky and sarcastic all day. He didn’t come to the game after school either, and sadness penetrated my cheers even though the Titans beat Fremont 14-6. When Pete didn’t return my calls once I got home, I went into freak-out mode.
I am totally spazzing! And also pissed! I don’t understand what Pete’s problem is, but he’s acting like a total jerk. I can’t help it if I’m a cheerleader and have to fulfill my expected duties, like Night Raiders. He’s SO jealous. SO petty. And SO insecure. I have never done one thing to make him feel that way. I love him and I show it!!! And now I think he’s breaking up with me! Part of me should be happy, like, good riddance, jerk-off! But I’m in love with him. I want to be with him. I just wish he would stop acting this way. I hate all this waiting. He won’t call. He didn’t come to the game. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t know what to do. What should I do? H-E-L-P!
Jaime called and invited me over. I needed a girlfriend to talk to and jumped at the chance. We sprawled on her double bed on top of her rose-patterned bedspread. I filled her in on the Pete situation while we listened to records. She listened, but didn’t offer much advice, telling me it would blow over.
I caught her studying me. In a weird, intent way.
“What?” I asked.
“Can I do your makeup?”
Her request took me off guard and made me assess her own makeup. Too heavy, yet she pulled it off—always pretty and stylish.
I shrugged. “I guess. What did you have in mind?”
“Not sure. I’ll play around. Don’t worry, it’ll look great on you.”
“Okay, but nothing too drastic.”
Jaime beamed, bustling about her bathroom assembling her cosmetics. She set a chair in front of the large horizontal mirror and I dutifully sat down, eyeing the vast array of cases and brushes laid out. She had enough makeup to do the cast of Grease. An image of Olivia Newton-John flashed through my head, after she’d gone from the preppy and innocent Sandra Dee to Sandy the slut.
Jaime sponged on goopy foundation. “I think Reese is screwing around on me.”
“What? Why do you think that?” Her comment jarred me away from thinking about the thick residue tightening on my face, one of the reasons I didn’t wear much makeup in the first place.
“I found a girl’s phone number in his pocket last night.”
“Did you ask him about it?”
She stared at me like I was dense, then went back to sponging. “We were kissing goodnight and I slid my hands into his back pockets and out came this little piece of paper with some chick’s digits on it and her name—Janice. I said, ‘What the fuck is this, Reese?’ and he came back with some bullshit excuse, how it was a friend of his mother’s who needs her lawn mowed. As if!”
“What happened then? Did you get in a fight?”
“Ohhhhhh, yeah. A big one. I’m hella sick of his shit. It happens all the time. I mean, here I am, giving him one hundred percent, and I doubt he’s capable of returning even half that. He lies. I’m sure of it. I can’t trust him.” Jaime sat back and surveyed her work, then dabbled the sponge under my chin and down my neck. For such a terrible revelation, she remained oddly calm. Maybe she put up a good front.
“Pete can be a dick, too, but he’s loyal. What are you going to do?” She swiped near my ear and it tickled, but I stifled the urge to flinch or laugh.
“He called this morning and groveled. He swears he loves me and said he hasn’t been with anyone else since we started going out. I also don’t have any proof of him cheating…” Her voice trailed off as tears fell down her cheeks.
There was the emotion.
“I don’t know what to do. I love him.”
I squeezed her hand. “I’m sure things will work out.”
She composed herself and finished my face in silence, applying eye shadow, mascara, blush and lip color. She stood back again, a smile
