Prom Queen of Disaster (11 page)

Monday morning soon came as my sleepy Sunday left with the voice of my mom, reminding me I needed to go to church at least once a month. I had nothing against religion; I had nothing against the church, but inside, in the pit of soul, I didn’t believe, although most everyone in my neighborhood did.

I walked into school with Dylan on my arm, hugging him close.

“Zo!” Char shouted. “Get over here. We’re going to the principal’s office.”

“Is this the?” He asked moving his hand in a circle.

I let go of his arm. “Guess so.” I pushed myself on my toes and kissed him. “See you later.”

“Later.”

We lined up outside Principal Sanders’ office. We didn’t have hall passes or notes to be here, although his receptionist didn’t seem to mind us waiting, after all we were breaking school rules. We stood proud and prominent, waiting for our turn.

Both Officer Renner and Officer Gerrard walked out, looking us up and down. They raised their brows. Char flicked her hair and led us into the office, ignoring the officers.

“Principal Sanders,” Char said. She placed her hands on the desk and looked him in his eyes. “We need to talk.”

He stood, fanning a hand and gesturing to the seats. “Ladies! How may I help you?”

“Well, Principal Sanders, the other night, we came upon some
disturbing
footage. It shocked me,” Char said. “Now, I’m not here to put the blame on anyone or point fingers, because the evidence does that itself.”

He laughed, as he did when entertaining Char, but this time, it wasn’t another crazy issue that didn’t exist, this time there was evidence. “Well, please, go right ahead.”

Ava pulled out her tablet. “There’s a video. If you haven’t already seen it.” She flipped the screen and propped it up on his desk. “Now almost twenty-thousand views.”

“This is only one, but we know there’s more, and it doesn’t make me feel comfortable or safe.” Char held a hand to her chest.

Ava pressed play. “So uncomfortable.”

“Feeling so attacked,” Char said.

“Very,” Hannah and Libby added.

The principal tipped his head to me in the sequence of opinions. I stood united. “I think it’s a form of bullying.”

Char pulled open the code of conduct booklet and flicked through a few pages, scrolling with a finger. “Here,” she said. “The school has a zero-tolerance bullying policy.”

“Exactly,” I added. “And for it to be online, where the entire world can watch it. That’s considered cyber bullying.”

“You have a solid argument,” he said. “But I know you girls are very close, and you can power through even the most heated situations.”

“But the rules, Principal Sanders.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “This situation will be dealt with, and not lightly. But if you could put this much effort into finding out who broke into the science lab and stole from us, effectively poisoning your peers, that would equally as appreciated.”

Char rolled her eyes. “They’re to blame, I’ve already told you, it was probably Mila and that nobody. But of course, nobody listens to us unless we’re pulling from your material.”

He laughed. It was usual for Char to jump off at the deep end like this, she would be asking for help one moment, and biting your head of the next. But she was consistent. “That’s all well and good, Char, but give me some evidence, like you have done here today, and I’ll look into your claims,” he said. “But for now, there’s only so much of your first period that you can miss without being marked as tardy.”

There was a logical step afterward; Char pulled us aside. “Well it wouldn’t be hard to put some AP chem-geek at the scene where pure ethanol was stolen,” she said. Referring to Heather.

“Soak her shit in it,” Ava said.

“It probably stinks too!” I said. Not that I noticed, I’d been poisoned by the stuff, even knowing it was Kaleb, I found it easy to start pinning the blame on someone else.

Over the next few days, we practiced hard in the gymnasium and outside on the field when the weather was nice. It was almost the end of November now, and soon we’d be off to the competition. Last year we came in third place; this year we were determined to finish first in our division.

“We have the soundtrack finalized, we know the music, we should all know the beats, the step-by-step, the blow-by-blow, and if you don’t, I expect each and every one of you to practice,” Char said, walking back and forth in front of us like a drill sergeant. “I’ve sent everyone links to the music. Download it, listen to it, but know where you come in, and going forward, if we make a mistake, we’re just going to continue.”

Mr. June’s spiel about the having fun followed. “The main focus is the fun, of course.”

“And if you’re having fun, how can we fail,” Char added, flicking her hair with the back of her hand. “Right?”

My position on the team was mostly at the front. I was a tumbler, so any opportunity to flip, somersault, or hand-spring, I was ready. The only thing I wasn’t keen on was being a flyer. I left that to the smaller girls, like Ava, Damaris, and Jade.

“All sixteen of us here today should have no problem in locking down this routine. That’s seventeen including Kaleb, but he’ll only be coming with us in support,” she said, nodding to Kaleb on the sidelines in the mascot outfit

Bex moved to stand beside Char and Mr. June. “And as your assistant cheer captain, I am excited to be headed to the competition with you all. I know, I’ll be headed out on a full scholarship to Stanford this summer, but I will be giving this competition, like I do each game, my full commitment and passion.”

Mr. June clapped alone. “Well done, Rebecca, we’re all very proud of the opportunities we’ve been provided with because of our success and talents.”

Char coughed into a fist. “We’re happy for
you
Bex, early scholarship admissions are great, but if you’re waiting it out for the perfect school, do it, don’t bite the first worm because you’re starving, wait it out. And you don’t have to bend your legs behind your head to get an education.”

At the end of junior year, Char spread rumors about Bex having slept with someone on the admissions team, and that’s how she came to have her college scholarship. Of course, after Char was
elected
cheer captain, Mr. June made sure to appoint Bex as the assistant, even though Ava was Char’s first choice, she didn’t have any say.

Everyday training meant another day closer to the competition, and the closer we were, the more desperate we were for some salon treatment. Char called it our pre-tan, the base coat of our body.

“Shower first,” Char called through the locker room. “I don’t want Amy to think we’re all animals; this isn’t the cheer squad she left.”

Amy welcomed us in, locking the door behind us for our after hours special. She kissed Char on either cheek, having spent two weeks in Paris, she was all of a sudden European.

“Girls,” Amy said. “I shouldn’t be doing this, you know, but I’d like to make sure all your tanning needs are taken care of; I’ve kept a few of the beds open, and only one spray room.”

Only a few of us went, including Damaris and Monique this time, mainly for the after-tan food stop and moisturizers.

“I’ll take a bed,” I said. “Can I get some lotion?”

“Sure thing.” Amy’s heels clicked on the tile floor as she moved behind the desk. “How are you and Dylan?”

“Good,” I said. “He’s coming to support me at the competition.”

“I think that’s
the
cutest thing,” she said. She wasn’t wrong. I thought so too.

The tanning bed was 8 minutes of bliss. I laid there for a few moments after the timer beeped and the lights shut off.

“Are you finished?” I heard Jade squeak, knocking on the door.

“Yeah, lemme get dressed.” I hauled myself out of the tanning bed and reached for the lotion. My body resembled an oil slick, glittering in different colors.

Back in my cheer uniform with my hair pulled back into a ponytail, I admired myself in the full-length door mirror, putting my hands on my hips and framing my midsection. My skin took to the sun, no matter how artificial it was.

We ate at Chicken Shack, the decision was unanimous, although the options were limited while Char was around. We each needed one bowl of salad per piece of chicken. Char would’ve been behind the counter if she could, to tell them how to cook the chicken with fewer calories.

“So,” Ava whispered to me as she sat with her bowl of salad and stale croutons. “Kaleb stayed behind to pin some evidence on those bitches.”

“What’s he gonna do?” I sniggered. “Put something in their lockers?”

Ava’s eyes grew. “Good idea.”

“No, that wasn’t an idea.”

“I’ll tell Kaleb.”

The internal torment over knowing Kaleb spiked the punch sent shooting pains through me, like bad period cramps. I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn’t be too sure, the alcohol had probably hit me by then.

Char stood up, gesturing for attention. “This Saturday we have a game in San Fran. So, instead of those group chats blowing up my phone every waking minute, you should all take note that new uniforms have been ordered. I know I said that weeks ago, but they fucked it up. So they should be here tomorrow, just before the game. We need everyone fitted, and if you don’t fit, you’ll have to cut the carbs.”

Every other weekend at school was game day, we cheered at both home games and away games, usually the schools were no more than an hour or two away. We used them to practice routines and gage reactions.

There was pressure to be perfect at every angle.

“Before you think of screwing the opposition to get an edge over the game, remember they have top knots and smell like patchouli,” Char said. “Flirt, play dirty, but don’t distract
our
team; if they win, we win, and they’ll bring it twice as hard to our competition.”

Char made no effort to guard her tactics to win. Since she was captain, our basketball team won most of their games. If Char wore panties, she’d make sure they’d notice, if she didn’t wear panties, a 3-pointer could turn into a missed shot. I, on the other hand, always wore the cheering shorts they provided with the uniform.

“And before anyone can imitate Mr. June while he’s not here,” Char said. “Having fun is the most important, and if we have fun, we’re already winners.”

“That’s probably why Mr. June never won any more medals,” Ava said off-the-cuff.

I checked to see if Quentin was around. As Mr. June’s nephew, you could never be too sure, but I noticed him, sitting across from Ant, both chuckling to the joke. Mr. June was a sweet guy, he’d only been angry with us one time, then afterward, he was relaxed, like he gave in.

Char forked the final leaves of lettuce in her mouth. “I’m gonna have to love you and leave you. Benny's just texted me.”

Soon, all the girls left. I’d asked my mom to pick me up. It was darker now at 7 PM, around the time she’d text me to say she was in the parking lot.

I made my way outside, wrapped in one of Dylan’s jackets. The cold air nipped at my nose and cheeks. The parking lot was almost deserted. A wrenching guttural sound hacked out a cough, almost like a car unable to start.

I grabbed my phone, moving through the parking lot. “Hello?” I turned my phone’s flashlight on.

“Zo?” a voice sputtered. I craned my neck around a car to see Kaleb, crouched, a hand to his chest, and another over his mouth. “Zo?”

“Kaleb?” I dipped to his side, scanning his body with the flashlight. “What happened?”

He pushed at me, moving a hand from his chest. “No. Go away.”

“Who did it?” Blood dripped from his lip; he covered it with his bruised hands.

“My brothers,” he said. “They’ve—” he continued coughing. “Kicked me out.”

“Did they do this, Kaleb?” I asked. “My mom should be here any minute.”

My phone buzzed. “Mom?” I answered.

Kaleb hacked at the coughs in his throat.

“Where are you, hon? We need to get back,” she said. Before I could say anything, Kaleb sputtered and spat on the floor. “Hon? That sounds like a nasty cough.”

“It’s not me,” I said. I tried to cover the speaker of the phone. “I think you need to go to the hospital,” I said to Kaleb.

An immediate panic rang clear in my mom’s voice. “Who’s going to the hospital?”

It didn’t take her long to drive around and find us behind a car. Kaleb continued to cough his guts up. In the full headlights of the car, I found more color to his skin. The purple welts and bluish bruising.

“I don’t want to go,” Kaleb begged. My mom tugged him to his feet on one side.

“You’re in bad shape,” she said. “We’ll take you home then.”

“No!” he shouted, creasing in the center of his body. “I can’t. They kicked me out. Since I’m 18 now, they don’t have to take care of me.”

“Your parents wouldn’t let me leave you like this,” my mom said. “You’re coming home with us.”

“Mom?” I said, grabbing for Kaleb’s other side. “Are you sure?”