Stacey and the Cheerleaders Page 4

  I walked over to them. They looked as if they were ready to burst with excitement.

  “Robert likes you,” Sheila said.

  My brain did not handle the sentence. It was as if Sheila had said, “Your hair is blue,” or “Yesterday is tomorrow,” or “Life is a cheeseburger.” No logic, no sense.

  “What?” was my response.

  Giggles again.

  “He noticed you on Friday night,” Darcy said. “At the Pizza Express.”

  “Remember, when your slices stuck together?” Sheila added.

  “Love at first bite!” Penny covered her mouth and laughed at her own joke.

  “Well — but — how —” My brain was now rediscovering the English language, but slowly. “What about Corinne?” I finally asked.

  “What about her?” Penny asked.

  “Robert is interested in her, isn’t he?”

  The girls exchanged a knowing glance. “Corinne is the only one who thinks Robert is interested in her,” Darcy replied.

  Robert? Interested in me? Oh, please. He didn’t know me. I wasn’t one of The Group.

  “His dad gave a bunch of us a ride home that night,” Sheila said. “I was the last person he dropped off, so Robert and I had a few minutes in the car together. We were talking about the game, and then he said to me, and I quote, ‘You seem to know Stacey pretty well. Is she going steady with RJ?’ Just like that, out of the clear blue sky.” Sheila paused for effect. I caught my breath. “Now, I didn’t know the answer for sure. But I remembered you said you didn’t like the movie. And I got the feeling you guys didn’t … you know … kiss or anything. And you and RJ weren’t exactly acting like lovebirds. So I decided to tell him you weren’t. Was that okay?”

  “I wasn’t what?” I asked.

  “Going steady with RJ!” Sheila answered with exasperation. “You’re not, are you?”

  “No!” I answered too loudly. I could feel myself blushing. “I mean, you were right to say that.”

  “Lucky,” Penny said. “Robert is a real nine-one-one.”

  I looked at her blankly. “A nine-one-one?”

  “You’ve never heard that expression?” She shook her head in disbelief. “It’s like calling nine-one-one because you’re about to die from excitement? You know?”

  “Right,” I said. (I guessed that was a “Group” expression.)

  “Well, I don’t blame him,” Sheila remarked. “He has good taste.”

  “Oh, groan,” Darcy said. Then she looked at me and added quickly, “Really, he’s also the nicest guy, Stacey. Sometimes the good-looking ones are jerks, but Robert’s different.”

  “Anyway, I said he should call you,” Sheila added. “And he said he would. So be prepared.”

  Boy, was I smiling. “You guys, I don’t know what to say. Thanks for telling me.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Sheila replied with a warm smile.

  Darcy looked at her watch. “Oops, almost time for our practice,” she said to Penny. Both girls laughed. I didn’t get the joke.

  “Sheila,” Penny said, “did you tell Stacey about … you know what?”

  I laughed. “Another secret?”

  “Well, not exactly a secret,” Penny replied. “It’s just that one of the cheerleaders is moving. We’re going to hold tryouts to replace her, but we haven’t set a date. We figured we’d let you know early, in case you want to start working out.”

  “If you’re interested,” Darcy added.

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  “Why not?” Sheila asked.

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “You’re definitely pretty enough to be on the squad,” Darcy went on. “You just have to know how to do the usual stuff — splits, jumps, cartwheels — plus be able to pick up a combination.”

  “Splits?” I said. Just thinking about them hurt. And what did she mean, I was pretty enough to be on the squad?

  “Splits aren’t as hard as you think,” Darcy said. “Besides, you have plenty of time to practice.”

  Riinnnnggg!

  “Uh-oh! See you!” Penny cried.

  She and Darcy raced away. Sheila practically had to pull me into homeroom.

  It was a good thing she did, too. Otherwise I might have stood in the hall for hours.

  I was in a daze. Me, Stacey McGill, a cheerleader? How weird. How … fabulous!

  Here’s why it was weird: I’d never seen real live cheerleaders before I came to Stoneybrook. My school in New York City didn’t have them. Cheerleading was frowned on. Girls preferred having their own teams to cheering for the boys.

  That always made sense to me. It still does. Besides, pleated skirts, pom-poms, and white bucks are not exactly my style.

  But let’s face facts. What’s cool in one place is not necessarily cool in another. And being a cheerleader in Stoneybrook was definitely cool. Just being friends with the cheerleaders made me feel good.

  And if I became a cheerleader — just if — I could be closer to Robert.

  * * *

  I spent the rest of the morning on a cloud. I wondered how hard those cheerleading moves were. In gym class, before we started exercises, I quietly went into a corner and tried to do a split.

  There’s a good reason they call it a split. Wow, did it hurt. If I was going to try out, I would need to work hard.

  I decided to keep quiet about tryouts. I would practice a little, maybe ask someone to help me. If I turned out to be too much of a klutz, I would just skip tryouts, no harm done.

  I did not mention anything to the other members of the BSC at lunch. I wanted to tell them about Robert, but what if he never called me? That would be awkward.

  So I was Silent Stacey for the rest of the day, even though my heart was pounding.

  When I got home, I could barely concentrate on my homework. I was in the middle of a math problem when the phone rang.

  My hand tightened. I broke the point on my pencil. My chair almost fell over as I ran to the phone.

  “Hello!” I cried, feeling like a balloon ready to burst.

  “Good afternoon, this is the Cine-Home Pay Cable Network,” said a voice. “This month we’re offering a free hook-up to new subscribers….”

  Fffffffffff. I could feel my air slowly leaking out. I called my mom at work, and asked her to take care of the call.

  A few minutes later the phone rang again. This time it was Claudia, asking if she could borrow a barrette.

  Call Number Three was from one of Mom’s friends.

  Calls Number Four and Five were for Rupert Peebles. We get his calls from time to time. Mom figured out that he must have been the person who had our phone number before we did.

  I started my math homework at 4:30. Now, math is my very favorite subject, but by 5:24, I was still staring at the third problem (of twenty). It was the absolute latest I could remain in the house and still reach the BSC meeting in time.

  I ran downstairs, found my coat, and raced out the door.

  I was halfway to the sidewalk when I heard … rinnnnnng.

  It was 5:26. Kristy was going to kill me if I was late for the meeting. Nevertheless, you know in those Road Runner cartoons, when you hear a pshoooo sound and the Road Runner disappears in a cloud of dust? Well, that was me. I was in the house instantly.

  I ran to the kitchen. I stopped by the phone and collected myself. Then I calmly picked up the receiver and dropped it.

  Clunk!

  I scooped it off the floor. “Hello?” I said. “Sorry!”

  I heard the most wonderful laugh on the other end of the phone. “That’s okay, I have another ear.”

  It was Robert! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Hi, Robert,” was the only brilliant reply I could think of.

  “Hi. What a game Saturday, huh?”

  “It was great! Especially that … that jump shot you made near the end! You’re very good.”

  Robert laughed again. “Well, not as good as Malik or Wayne. Those guys are naturals. I
have to work hard to do half what they do.”

  Cute and modest. What a rare combination in a boy. “Well, you looked pretty good to me,” I said.

  “Thanks. So did you — I mean, you know, it was great to see you.”

  “Uh-huh. Me, too. It was great to see you.” This conversation was painful. I sounded like a parrot.

  “So, um, I guess you’ll come to the next game, too?”

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “Hey, great. I’ll see you there.”

  That was it? He called to see if I was coming to the game? I tried not to sound disappointed. “Okay. Well, see you.”

  “Um, wait. I was just thinking. I’m not really doing anything Friday night. I mean, I know you probably are, but —”

  “No, I’m not,” I shot back.

  “No? Well, maybe we could, like, get together or something. You know, see a movie.”

  “Not Mall Warriors II,” I said.

  Robert laughed again. “That’s the last movie I’d see!”

  “Oh, good!” I was so grateful. We had something in common already. I could tell we were going to get along.

  “So, is six-thirty okay? I’ll ask one of my parents to drive.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “Okay, well, ’bye.”

  “ ’Bye.”

  The moment I hung up, I screamed. Then I called Mom at work again. I told her what had happened. She seemed delighted.

  Delighted was too tame a word for how I felt. I glided out of the house. I knew that five-thirty was in the distant past. I knew Kristy was probably fuming.

  But at that moment, I couldn’t have cared less. As I headed for Claudia’s, my feet barely touched the ground.

  It was the day after Robert had asked me out. I had told everyone in the BSC what had happened, and they were thrilled. Unfortunately, it was also the day Kristy had her first sitting job with Tiffany and Maria Kilbourne.

  Kristy is a great sitter. Fun-loving but firm. Kids like her and she can match their incredible energy. But even Kristy had trouble with Tiffany and Maria.

  Although Shannon is a BSC member, none of us knows the Kilbourne family very well. They live in Kristy’s neighborhood, and the girls go to a private school. So their circle of friends is different.

  I’ve already told you a little about Shannon. She is a real Achiever. She’s in the honor society, she acts and sings in plays, and she’s practically fluent in Spanish and French.

  Tiffany is a ten-year-old version of Shannon — physically, at least. She has the same curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and high cheekbones. Maria has dark, reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. To tell you the truth, they almost don’t look like sisters.

  Kristy had met Maria many times before. (Occasionally Maria comes to the Brewer house to play with Karen.)

  As for Tiffany? Well, Kristy figured she’d be like Maria — shy, studious, and polite. Or like Shannon — bright, fun, and thoughtful. Either way, she expected Tiffany and Maria to be two nice, easy kids. Sitting for them would be a dream job.

  That image lasted until Kristy rang the front doorbell.

  “I’ll get it!” a voice shouted from behind the closed door. Thump-thump-thump-thump came the sound of footsteps down stairs.

  “Get out of my way!” Another voice.

  “Hey, stop!” The first voice.

  “You’re so slow!”

  “Mo-om!”

  “Baby!”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “What?”

  “Baby!”

  “Okay, baby!”

  “Girls, will you please stop!” Whew. A grown-up voice. Finally.

  “She started it!”

  “She pushed me!”

  “She was being slow!”

  “She called me baby!”

  Uh-oh.

  Suddenly Kristy wished she hadn’t volunteered for this job. She could tell it was going to be a long, long day.

  The door lurched open. Mrs. Kilbourne gave Kristy a wide, beaming smile. (Of course. She was the one who was leaving.) “Well, hello, Kristy! Come on in.”

  Clutching her Kid-Kit, Kristy walked inside. She saw the two girls at the foot of the living room stairs. They stood there like statues, the goddesses of Gloom and Doom.

  Kristy said hi.

  Gloom and Doom grunted.

  Mrs. Kilbourne led Kristy into the kitchen and gave her instructions. The last thing she said was, “Make sure Tiffany starts her homework before dinner.” Then she got her coat, kissed her daughters, and breezed out the doorway.

  Kristy could have sworn she heard a sigh of relief.

  “So,” Kristy said. “Want to go outside before you start your homework? There’s plenty of snow for a snowperson.”

  No reply.

  “No, huh? Well, that’s okay.” Kristy set down her Kid-Kit and began to open it. “Maybe we can find something in here.”

  The girls leaned forward to look. Kristy pulled out an old rag doll, some dinosaur figurines, and a few small puzzle books.

  “Ooh, word searches!” Maria cried out. “I love those.” She reached for one of the books and a pencil.

  Tiffany crinkled her nose. “That’s baby stuff.” She rummaged around and pulled out an old yo-yo.

  Maria sat on the floor next to the coffee table. As she opened the book and began working on a puzzle, Tiffany experimented with the yo-yo.

  Kristy was proud of herself. She settled onto the couch.

  “Sub … ma … rine,” Maria muttered, circling a diagonal word in a puzzle.

  Tiffany was swinging the yo-yo in an arc now. She was also moving closer to her sister.

  “Ooh! Tug … boat!” Maria said. “Look! I got them all!”

  Whack. The yo-yo smacked Maria on her elbow. “Owww!” She whirled around. “You did that on purpose!”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “Uh, Tiffany,” Kristy said. “That’s a little close. Maybe you could do that in another room?”

  “Let’s go to the TV room,” Tiffany replied. “Can you teach me some tricks?”

  “Sure.” Kristy looked over at Maria. “You okay in here by yourself?”

  “Kan … ga … roo,” Maria mumbled.

  Tiffany led Kristy into a large, wood-paneled room just past the kitchen. A long Haitian-cotton couch faced a huge TV set. Next to the TV was a cabinet with glass shelves above and drawers below.

  Kristy noticed a few trophies and awards on the shelves, so she stepped closer to look. The top two shelves were obviously Shannon’s — a drama plaque, a framed honor society certificate, and an archery trophy from summer camp, among others. The third shelf held a few swimming trophies. “ ‘League of Independent Schools Athletics, Swimming, Elementary Division, First-Place Butterfly,’ ” Kristy read. “Is this yours?”

  Tiffany exhaled impatiently. “Read the name!”

  “Oh.” Sure enough, Maria Kilbourne was engraved at the bottom of the plaque. “Wow. I didn’t know she was a swimmer,” said Kristy.

  “Can you teach me the yo-yo stuff now?” Tiffany asked impatiently.

  “Oh! Sorry.” Kristy reached for the yo-yo. “Do you know ‘Walking the Dog’?”

  Maria’s voice responded with, “Did you see the one for school record in the breaststroke?”

  Kristy turned to see Maria peeking in the room. Beaming, she ran to the case.

  Tiffany slumped onto the couch. “Bo-ring!”

  “Jealous.” Maria stuck out her tongue. She opened the case and took out a gaudy plastic trophy.

  “Maria, I am impressed!” Kristy said. “I remember you used to hate athletic things.”

  Maria beamed. “I did! But now I love swimming. My coach says I’m a natural. I even got a write-up in the Stoneybrook Day School newspaper!” She reached into the top drawer and pulled out the article.

  “You are so conceited!” Tiffany snapped. She leaped up and grabbed the article. “Kristy was teaching me something.”

&nbs
p; Maria held tight to her end of the paper. “Give me that!”

  Rrrrrrip!

  Each sister now held half an article. “Look what you did!” Maria cried.

  “What’s the difference, baby? You have a hundred and three copies of it!”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “Whoa! Truce!” Kristy called out. She had reached the end of her patience. “Okay, look. Maybe you two need to get out of each other’s hair. Why don’t you go upstairs and start your homework — peacefully, in your own rooms. Uh, do you have separate rooms?”

  “Yeah,” Maria replied. “Want to see?”

  “Sure.” Anything to get them upstairs, Kristy thought.

  She followed Maria up the steps. Halfway there, she turned around. “Tiffany? Are you coming?”

  “I don’t want to do my homework! You didn’t teach me those yo-yo tricks, like you said you would.”

  “Okay, okay. If I come down and teach you, then will you do your homework?”

  Tiffany said something under her breath. It didn’t sound like yes.

  At the top of the stairway, Maria led Kristy down a hallway, then proudly showed off her room. It had pink wallpaper with a heart pattern, and stuffed animals were propped up all over the place. Framed swim team photos hung over her desk. Another swimming trophy sat on her dresser. “That’s for the side stroke. I just got it yesterday.”

  As Maria sat down at her desk, Kristy said, “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll get your sister.”

  “She won’t come,” Maria replied. “She never does her homework. She is so bad in school.”

  “Come on, that’s not nice.”

  “It’s true. The teacher sends her home with notes sometimes. Mom and Dad get really mad. Last time they took away her allowance. So that’s why she’s not —”

  Maria’s eyes widened and she cut herself off.

  “Not what?” Kristy asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Kristy raised her presidential eyebrow. “Mariaaaaa.”

  Maria looked at the floor. “Tiffany got another note today. She told me. But she’s not going to give it to Mom and Dad.”

  “Maria!” Tiffany’s voice boomed from downstairs. “I’m going to kill you! I told you not to tell —”