Текст книги "Backlash"

Автор книги: Sarah Darer Littman

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

KELLEY, LARA.

It’s there. My name. On the list of girls who’ve made the cheerleading squad.

I’m on the team. I’m part of the group. It’s official. I’m not Lardo anymore.

I read it again to make sure I’m not seeing things and then let out a shriek of excitement.

“I can’t believe it! I made it!”

“Awesome! I had a feeling you would,” says Ashley.

I can’t believe she’s talking to me. Smiling at me.

“Welcome to the team,” she says.

Being friendly to me. This wouldn’t have happened two years ago. Maybe not even one year ago. But it’s happening now, and I almost have to pinch myself to believe it’s real. That it’s happening to me, Lara Kelley.

“I’m so excited,” I tell her. “But also kind of nervous, to tell you the truth,” I confess.

“Don’t worry,” Ashley says. “Everyone’s nervous at first. You’ll do great.”

She gives me a hug, and for the first time in years it feels like I’m a part of something special. I wish I could take this moment and put it in a bottle to save in my memory box so I can remember it whenever I start feeling like Lardo again.

I smile my thanks back at her.

“Hey, are you busy on Saturday?” Ashley asks. “A few of us are going to the mall.”

“Yes!” I exclaim. And then I realize that came out wrong. “I mean, no, I’m not busy, and yes, I’d love to come.”

We both laugh, and as we do, I glance over and see Bree giving me a death glare. Like, seriously, if looks could kill, I’d be pushing up daisies. I try to ignore her, but I can’t help wondering why she’s mad at me. Then I see her turn and stomp off down the hallway, looking at her phone.

“What’s up with Bree Connors?” I ask. “She just gave me a totally evil look.”

“Oh, she’s probably pissed she didn’t make the team,” Ashley says.

“Wait … she didn’t?”

I’m genuinely surprised. I’d have thought Bree would have made it before I did. She was on JV and has been doing cheerleading way longer than me.

“Nope,” Ashley says. “She’s pretty good technically, but Coach said she didn’t have a great attitude in JV. Like she was going through the motions instead of really putting her heart into it, and it showed.”

“Oh … I just …”

“Don’t let her bother you,” Ashley advises me. “Haters gonna hate.”

Ha! Don’t I know it … But for once, I’m on the inside, not on the outside, being hated on. And I’m loving the way it feels.

“Yeah. I guess so,” I say. “Well, I better run, or I’ll miss the bus.”

“I’ll Facebook you my cell,” Ashley calls down the hall after me. “So we can make plans for Saturday.”

Bree is sitting in the back of the bus, and she gives me another killer glare when I get on before turning her face away and pretending I don’t exist.

I get that she’s pissed she didn’t make the team, but what I don’t understand is why she’s so mad at me. It’s not like I’m the only one who made the team when she didn’t.

Besides, Bree of all people knows how hard things have been for me. I know we aren’t such good friends anymore – well, hardly friends at all anymore, if I’m honest – but that’s not my fault. She’s the one who dumped me, not the other way around. Still, you’d think even if she can’t bring herself to be happy for me, she could at least not be mad that my life is finally taking a turn for the better.

Whatever. Like Ashley said, “Haters gonna hate.” It’s her problem, not mine.

I get most of my homework done and then go on Facebook. I make my status OMG!!!! I’m A CHEERLEADER!!!!! : ) Then I wonder if it’s too dorky and if I should delete it. But it gets three likes pretty much right away, so I leave it.

Dad brings home takeout from my favorite Chinese restaurant to celebrate me making the squad, although Mom makes a point of measuring my portions, because she wants “to make sure you don’t put the weight back on if you’re going to be wearing those short cheerleading skirts.”

Like I wasn’t already worried about how I was going to look in them.

“So does this mean you’ll get takeout when I get a lead part in the eighth-grade musical?” Syd asks.

“If you get a lead,” I say.

Syd ignores me.

“Well, does it?” she asks Dad again.

“I will buy takeout to celebrate my little Drama Queen, too,” Dad says, smiling at her.

“Good. Because Maddie and Cara and me are already planning our audition pieces,” Syd says. “I’m going to get a lead.”

“Maddie, Cara, and I,” Mom corrects her. At least it’s not just me she’s nitpicking tonight.

Syd gives an Oscar-worthy sigh of irritation.

“Maddie, Cara, and I,” she repeats, in what I have to admit is a spot-on imitation of Mom. Maybe she might get a lead after all. “And when I do get a lead, we are not having Chinese. We’re going to have yummy Italian from La Dolce Nonna.”

“Well, let’s celebrate Lara’s good news while we eat her choice tonight,” Dad says.

“Then she’ll celebrate your good news while she eats your choice when the time comes,” Mom adds.

IF the time comes, I think again but don’t say.

Right before I go upstairs after dinner, I check Facebook again. I’ve got a friend request from some guy I’ve never heard of, Christian DeWitt, who’s a senior at East River, a high school in a town an hour away from here. I have no idea why he’s friending me, and I normally wouldn’t friend someone I don’t know – my parents are real freaks about that. But he’s gorgeous. I mean, like, model hot. And he’s friends with a lot of my friends, so I figure maybe it’s okay. Even Bree’s friends with him.

Still, if my parents find out I’ve friended someone I don’t know, it’s a grounding offense. Like I said, total freaks. That’s why I’m not allowed my own laptop, and Syd and I have to share this computer in the living room, which is so annoying.

With Mom being on the city council, she’s all about “setting examples” of how to be the Perfect Parent. And of course she knows the police chief personally, so Syd and I always have to be a Perfect Example of everything. Nothing less than perfection will do when you’re the daughters of Councilwoman Kathy Kelley. Being fat and depressed definitely didn’t fit the profile.

I gaze at Christian DeWitt’s picture, the cursor hovering over the Confirm button. He’s seriously hot. I can’t believe he wants to friend me. It can’t hurt, I tell myself, clicking Confirm.

I’m about to get off the computer when I hear the plink of Facebook chat.

I can’t believe it. It’s him. Hot-as-anything Christian DeWitt! Hey, congrats on making cheerleading! he writes.

Thanks! I’m pretty pumped. : )

So, how was the rest of your day?

Pretty good. How about you?

Better now.

What was the matter before?

Stuff. You know, it happens, right?

Don’t I know it!

At least you’re having a good day …

Good doesn’t even begin to describe it. I made varsity cheerleading team, and now this amazing-looking guy is chatting with me. When I think about where I was a year and a half ago, I can’t even believe this is happening.

Yeah. Pretty awesome day.

And my day just improved because I’m talking to a cute girl like you.

He. Thinks. I’m. Cute. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I suddenly worry, though, that this is so weird and sudden. What if he’s some middle-aged creeper pretending to be a teenager, like when the police come to school to give us those “Be Very Afraid of the Internet” talks?

But if he’s friends with all these people I know and all the kids at his own high school, he must be legit. Do you need glasses? ;P I type.

Come on, don’t be modest. You’re really pretty.

Pretty? He seriously must be blind or something.

“Lara, are you done yet? You’re not the only one who has homework, you know!”

Figures, just as I finally have some gorgeous guy telling me I’m cute and pretty, my sister butts in and tells me she needs the computer.

Gotta go, I type, hoping that this isn’t the last time I ever hear from him.

Chat soon! he writes.

Smiling, I log off Facebook.

“It’s all yours,” I tell Syd, and I head upstairs. My life really is turning around, and I couldn’t be happier.

YOU’D THINK it’s Mom who didn’t make the cut for varsity cheerleading by the way she’s stomping around the kitchen, breathing fire and smashing pots and pans down on the counter.

“I’m going into school tomorrow morning to talk to Coach Carlucci,” she fumes. “This is ridiculous! How can she cut you and let Lara Kelley on the team?”

“Mom! No!” Bree shouts. “Don’t do that! It’ll just make things worse!”

“Worse, how?” Mom asks. “How can things be worse than you not making the team?”

Bree stares at Mom. Her fists are clenched, her face is turning red, and I see a tear escape the corner of her eye. She looks like she’s either going to let Mom have it or start crying hysterically. I wish she’d finally let Mom have it. I mean, it’s not like she wanted to make cheerleading that much anyway. Maybe it’s a good thing she got cut.

Her mouth opens and I think, Come on, Bree …

But then she starts crying and runs out of the room. A minute later we hear her door slam.

Another typical evening in the Connors house.

Mom picks up the phone and calls Dad. “Sean – how long till you get home?”

Yeah, Dad – we need you here to bring on the sanity.

“Oh, Bree’s in her room having another tantrum.” Mom sighs. “I just don’t know what’s got into her … Yes, I know hormones, Sean. But there’s more to it than that … Okay, see you soon.”

She hangs up and takes out the potato peeler.

“Liam, peel these potatoes for me, will you, please?”

Great. That’s what I get for hanging around to watch the drama. Stuck peeling potatoes while Bree has another tantrum and does nothing.

I start peeling the stupid potatoes.

“At least you’re not giving me problems right now,” Mom says.

But like an idiot, even though it’s not my fight, I start doing just that.

“Bree didn’t even want to do cheerleading, Mom. Maybe it’s a good thing she didn’t make it. Now she can try out for something else.”

The look on my mother’s face when she turns to me makes me curse myself for opening my big mouth.

“A good thing? Is that what you think, Liam?”

“Forget it. Never mind,” I mumble.

“No, let’s hear this,” Mom says. “Why, Liam? Why is your sister getting cut from the team after we’ve made sacrifices to pay for her to go to cheerleading camp every year a good thing?”

“Because …”

Why did I say anything? This isn’t my problem. It’s Bree’s. And you never win an argument with Mom, especially when she’s in a mood like this. I sigh.

“Really, Mom, forget it. You’re right. It’s bad. Whatever.”

She’s not happy with me, but at least she lets it go, so I can finish peeling the potatoes and escape to watch TV until Dad comes home.

I turn on the news, which isn’t much of an escape, but Mr. Phillips tells us we should keep up with what’s happening in the world if we want to be part of debate team. I flip from one cable news channel to another, wondering how the same story can sound so different depending on which channel I’m watching.

I always thought the news was supposed to tell it like it is.

There’s only so much news I can take before I switch to one of the science channels. Watching things get blown up in the name of science makes me feel better.

My father sticks his head in the living room when he gets home.

“Hey, buddy – how’s it going?”

I roll my eyes. “Great – if you like living in the middle of a war zone.”

“Yeah, I gathered there’s been a disturbance in the Force,” Dad says. He’s a Star Wars geek, but he leaves it up to me to figure out who’s Darth Vader in this particular episode.

He sits down on the sofa next to me, just as there’s a really epic explosion on the TV. “Wow. That was awesome!” he exclaims.

“Yeah. It was kind of like that between Mom and Bree, but I’d rather watch it on TV than in real life at home.”

“I hear you, Liam.” He gets up from the sofa with a grunt. “I’ll try to go impart some Jedi wisdom to the warring parties.”

“Good luck with that,” I mutter.

But I lower the volume on the TV so I can overhear his conversation with Mom. He’s the calming one. Maybe I can learn something.

“I’m going to go into school tomorrow and talk to Coach Carlucci,” Mom’s telling him. “It’s ridiculous that Lara Kelley made the team and Bree didn’t, and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything, Mary Jo,” Dad says. “Maybe Bree had an off day and Lara was in top form.”

“But if she just had an off day, Coach should take that into account,” Mom says. “Everyone has off days.”

“Honey, you told me Bree said she wanted to try out for dance team. Maybe she didn’t give the tryouts her best shot,” Dad suggests.

“That’s not the way I’ve brought up my daughter,” Mom says. “I’ve told her she’s always supposed to give everything her best shot, no matter what. Did I get to where I am today by half measures?”

“Of course you didn’t. But she’s a teenager. She has to learn these things for herself,” Dad says.

“So you want me to let our kids fail?” Mom says. “Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

I hear her stirring something on the stove; the metal spoon is clanking angrily against the side of the saucepan.

“I don’t want the kids to fail any more than you do,” Dad says. He’s starting to lose his Yoda-like calm. “But they’re going to face disappointments in life, and they need to learn how to cope with them without us rushing in to try to make it better.”

“So then they’ll be disadvantaged,” Mom argues. “You think Kathy Kelley isn’t pulling strings with the mayor to get whatever she can for her kids?”

“Yeah, and do things always go so well with Lara?” Dad says. “Just because other parents are doing it doesn’t mean we should.”

Score one for Dad by bringing up Lara’s imperfections.

Mom grumbles her response, so I can’t hear what she says. But from the tone of her grumbling, I can tell that Dad’s won this round. Now he’ll go up and talk to Bree, and hopefully peace will be restored in the Connors household in time for dinner – which is good because I’m starving.

I HATE my mother. Nothing I do is ever enough because I’ll never be her.

What if I don’t want to be her? Does she ever think about that? What if I want to be me, whoever that is?

Like I’ll ever get a chance to even find out, living with the Great White Shark Mom.

If she goes to talk to Coach Carlucci tomorrow, I’m never going to speak to her again. Ever. I will die. Seriously, die.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Go away, Liam!” I shout.

“It’s Dad. Is it safe to come in?”

He says it in a joking way, like he knows how mad I am at Mom. Dad’s gotten used to acting as the United Nations peacekeeping force between us.

“Yeah, okay.”

Dad comes in and closes the door behind him.

“Doing your homework?”

“Trying to.”

“It’s hard to concentrate when you’re upset, huh?”

I nod.

“Heard about cheerleading.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t even look at him. I don’t want to talk about it.

“Look, Breenut,” Dad says, calling me by a nickname from when I was a baby. “I know Mom’s upset you didn’t make the team, but it’s not the end of the world.”

That’s when I turn to him. “Do you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

I have to swallow a lump in my throat. At least one of my parents doesn’t think I’m a total disappointment.

“In a way, I think this could be good for you. It’ll give you a chance to try something new. Didn’t you say you wanted to try dance?”

“I did. But it’s probably too late to try out now.”

“Well, how about exploring some other interests?”

That would be good if I could think of any. But it’s pretty much been cheerleading all the way my whole life.

“Like what?”

“Anything. Newspaper. Debate. Volunteering. School dance committee. At last year’s open house, they had a list of clubs as long as my arm. Longer, even.”

“I’m not going to do debate like Liam, Dad,” I tell him. “Forget it.”

“I just used that as an example, Bree,” Dad says. He sounds a little irritated. “Choose whatever strikes your fancy. But try something new. Experiment while you’re young, before you get stuck in a track and it’s too late.”

He sighs, and I wonder if he feels like he’s stuck and it’s too late. Did he dream of owning his own plumbing supply store when he was my age? Didn’t he ever want to get out of Lake Hills and go somewhere else?

“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it. Thanks, Dad,” I say, turning back to my desk. “I’ve got to finish my homework.”

Dad comes over and kisses the top of my head.

“Go easy on your mother, Breenut,” he says. “She means well.”

Whatever feelings I had of being understood disappear. As Dad walks out of the room, I can’t help wondering if he asked Mom to go easy on me, too.

I’ve been chatting with Lara as this Christian DeWitt guy for a few weeks now, and it’s getting kind of weird because Lara is flirting with me. I mean really flirting. It’s a side of her I’ve never seen before. I’m like, Who IS this person? This isn’t the Lara I knew. This definitely isn’t the Lara you see in school.

Okay, so I’ll admit I started flirting with her first. I mean, Christian did. I would never flirt with another girl. It’s not like I’m gay or anything. I guess that’s why this all feels so weird.

But like I said, it’s not me who’s really flirting with her. It’s Christian, or, as Lara’s started calling him, sweetie (barf), honey (puke), and babe (awkward).

Sometimes it creeps me out so much to be flirting with her that I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing it. I wonder if I should shut down his profile and the Gmail account without saying good-bye. Just disappearing Christian DeWitt from the face of the Internet. A few clicks here, a few clicks there, and His Royal Hotness Mr. DeWitt is virtual toast.

But then Lara walks past me at school with Ashley Trapasso, the two of them in their little cheerleading outfits with matching purple-and-gold hair ribbons, and Lara ignores me like she’s better than me all of a sudden.

That’s when I realize I have to continue, and I laugh to myself as she passes, because I know that the guy she’s seriously started crushing on is just make-believe. That actually, that guy is me, her old BFF Breanna Connors. How do you like that, Lara, sweetie, honey, babe?

I think it was because I was getting bored of flirting with Lara that I decided to let Marci in on the secret. Until then, my alter ego as Christian DeWitt was a secret between Gmail, Facebook, and me. But Marci was over one night around the time Christian would normally be chatting with Lara, and I was getting tired of having to keep thinking of nice things to say to the girl. I decided that Marci might be a source of useful inspiration.

At first I was really nervous about how Marci would react. I was worried she would think I was some kind of freak for doing this to Lara. Turns out she thought it was hilarious.

“Wait – Christian DeWitt is you?” she said.

“Yeah. Well, actually, he’s this Abercrombie model,” I told her, bringing up the model’s website. “But the ‘guy’ Lara is crushing on? That’s me.”

Just then, I noticed that Lara had come online.

“Check it out. She’s online,” I said. “Want to flirt with her?”

Marci giggled. “Oooooh yeah! Flirting is my specialty!”

She was speaking the truth. It’s one of the reasons I hang out with her. I keep hoping her flirting skills will rub off, and I’ll be able to interact with guys without coming off as a total dork. I mean, I’m great at flirting from behind a computer screen when I’m pretending to be Christian, but put me in front of a real boy and I get tongue-tied.

I started off the conversation, asking Lara how her day went. She went on and on with all her boring cheerleading stuff: how she’d mastered some new tumble and she was going to be second from the top of the pyramid. Like some guy would actually care about any of that. If there were an Olympics for Boring, Lara would be the all-time gold medalist.

Marci was cracking up. “You’d think she’d never talked to a guy before,” she said. “Let me have a turn!”

Marci doesn’t know about Lara and me and how we used to be best friends, and about Lara’s problems in middle school. She doesn’t know what I know: that Christian probably is the first guy who has ever shown interest in Lara. And he’s not even real.

“Sure,” I said, letting her sit in the chair.

“I know!” Marci said. “Why don’t we pretend Christian’s got a big dance coming up at his school and have him hint that he’s going to invite Lara?”

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” I said. “I’ve been getting so bored of flirting with her. At least this will give us something else to talk about so I don’t have to keep lying and telling her she’s cute and pretty.”

“Lara’s kind of cute,” Marci said. “I mean, she’s not a total dog.”

For some reason this annoyed me. She didn’t know Lara when she was Lardo. I was the one who was friends with that girl. I was the one who had to listen to Lardosaurus cry and complain.

“Well, she’s not my type,” I said, trying to cover up my annoyance with a joke. “Anyway, let’s look on the East River High website and see if they have an actual dance coming up, just in case Lara thinks to check.”

We were in luck. The weekend before Thanksgiving there’s the East River High homecoming parade, football game, and dance. That gave us plenty of time to string Lara along with the hopes of a fake date.

So do you have any big plans the weekend before Thanksgiving? Marci (as Christian) asked Lara.

Not really. I think we march in the homecoming parade. The cheerleaders, I mean.

You don’t have a dance?

Well, there’s a dance, but I doubt I’ll go.

Why not?

Oh, you know. Not my scene.

So … if we had a dance at East River, that wouldn’t be your scene?

Marci and I laughed as we watched the cursor blink, picturing Lara completely freaking in front of her computer as she tried to figure out how to respond. It took her long enough.

I guess that would depend … on who I was there with.

So, hypothetically, if you were there with someone like … me?

“I wish I could see her face right now,” I said. “I bet she’s peeing herself.”

“I know, right?” Marci said. “Come on, Lara, tell your boyfriend what he wants to hear!”

“I’m not her boyfriend yet,” I said. “Don’t rush things.”

“You’re not her boyfriend at all!” Marci said.

She had a point. But I’m the real Christian. He’s my creation. I wanted to be the one in control, the one setting the pace.

If it were … hypothetically someone like you, then it would definitely be more of my scene. : )

“Look! She went smiley face on him!” Marci said.

“DON’T ASK HER YET!” I said frantically. “Tell her you’ve got to go.”

Marci looked at me like I’d flipped.

“Why? We were just starting to have fun.”

“It’s more fun to string her along,” I said. “That’s what Christian would do if he were a real guy, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Marci sighed as she typed, Talk soon, gotta go.

I could just imagine Lara’s disappointment as Christian logged off so abruptly after teasing her with the idea of the dance.

A few years ago, my phone would have been ringing right away, and we’d have dissected every sentence of the chat for meaning. But that’s the beauty of this whole thing. I know exactly how Lara thinks.

Two days later, I tell Marci she has to come with me to the media center during our open period because I’ve got something to show her.

“This better be worth it,” she says. “Because Taylor Goodhew is in the student center, and no offense, but he’s a lot cuter than you are.”

Marci’s one of my best friends, but when she’s pursuing a hot guy, she’ll dump Jenny and me in a heartbeat. That’s just the way she is. It’s annoying, but you learn to live with it because she’s fun to hang out with the rest of the time.

“You’ll have time to go to the student center afterward,” I tell her. “Trust me, you want to see this.”

I find a free computer that isn’t close to other students and go to Wanelo. I know Lara’s screen name from back when we were friends. And I show Marci the “Cute dresses for the Dance” list she’s set up.

“Oh. My. God,” Marci says so loudly I have to tell her to shush before the librarian does. She lowers her voice. “The girl is, like, totally delusional. She’s making lists of dresses to go to a dance with a guy that doesn’t even exist!”

“I know! Isn’t it hysterical?” I tell her. “And look at the dresses!”

“This one just screams loser,” Marci says.

“What about this one?” I say. “It’s like she wants to be Ariel from The Little Mermaid but in tenth grade.”

We go through the entire list, shredding all of Lara’s choices. Marci’s having so much fun dissing Lara, she spends the whole open period with me and doesn’t even care that she missed going to the student center to hang out with “way cuter” Taylor Goodhew.