I Was a Non-Blonde Cheerleader (17 page)

“Hey, all I did was offer her a brew, dude,” Gabe replied. “She was all, ‘Thanks, but I need all my brain cells just now.’ That babe needs to
relax.
”

“How long did she wait?” I asked.

“Not long,” Gabe replied. “Like I said, the girl was high . . . 
strung.
”

He launched the ball at me and I caught it before it could hit my face. “Are you going to clean up the kitchen anytime soon?”

Gabe made a fake-concentration face. “Umm . . . I don’t believe that’s on my current schedule, no.” His friends cracked up laughing.

“Gabe, come on. You promised,” I said, sounding whiny.

“I promised no parties. I never promised I would clean,” Gabe said. “And come on, it’s not that bad.”

“There’s something growing on the floor.”

“All right, fine,
Mom.
I’ll do it in the morning.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you guys ever have, like, classes?”

They all looked at each other and laughed again. I rolled my eyes and turned to go. Back in my room, I read over the note once more. Tomorrow? How was I going to swing that? Not only was I sure that I would have more wacky hijinks to pursue with the squad, but I had that geometry test to study for. It was already eleven and I was exhausted. When was I going to study?

All I wanted to do was go to bed, but as I stared longingly at my sheets, suddenly a little angel-me appeared on my right shoulder.
“Annisa! You have to study!”
she trilled in my ear.
“No time like the present!”

With a heavy sigh I slipped out of my paint-spattered pants, bunched them up and shoved them into the garbage can. Sage-related anger flared up in my chest again, but I had to ignore it. There was nothing I could do about it now, and if I sat there and obsessed, I’d never get any work done. I changed into my PJs and, pushing all thoughts of Bethany, Daniel, Sage and Gabe aside, cracked my geometry book. I could deal with the social drama tomorrow.

A double toot of a car horn ripped me from a sound slumber. I raised my head, vaguely aware of that whirring sound a car makes when it backs up. Something was stuck to my face. I batted it away in a half-asleep, there’s-a-bug-on-me panic and saw that it was just a piece of notebook paper fluttering to the floor. Blinking in confusion, I realized I had fallen asleep at my desk with my head in my geometry notebook. Lovely.

I glanced at the clock and fast-forwarded into panic mode. It was already 8:00
A.M.
I had fifteen minutes to get to homeroom.

I scrambled out of my clothes and into a pair of gray sweats and a white T-shirt, then hid my scraggly hair under my Yankees baseball cap. In the bathroom I threw some cold water on my face, doubled up on the layers of deodorant and brushed my teeth. I looked like death warmed over, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I had to get to class.

I jogged downstairs with my backpack and froze in my tracks. There, standing in the center of my kitchen in nothing but a pair of baby-doll pajamas and furry pink slippers, was none other than Sage Barnard. And she was feeding my brother a powdered jelly from a box of Dunkin’ Donuts. My brother in all his Tasmanian Devil–boxered glory.

“Is
that
what you wear to bed?” Sage asked me, her face scrunched up in disgust. I had totally spaced on the fact that it was Pajama Day.

“Expecting a camera crew from
Playboy
?” I shot back. I grabbed a chocolate donut as I headed out the door, not even bothering to acknowledge my brother. There was no way I wanted to be around to witness whatever was going to happen next.

I couldn’t believe it! How could Sage possibly have the gall to show up at my house after what she’d done to me last night? And in that outfit with my brother! Didn’t she know she had a boyfriend?

I was shoving half the donut in my mouth when I noticed Daniel waiting for me at the edge of the driveway. He was wearing a wife-beater and striped pajama pants with flip-flops. Just looking at his shoulder muscles made my fingertips tingle. I was so not worthy.

I swallowed, wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and prayed that crease I’d noticed on the side of my face was gone. Daniel’s eyes flicked over my outfit.

“Nice pj’s, Jersey,” he said.

“Eh, these? They’re nothing special,” I said, the sight of Sage’s exposed thighs flashing through my mind.

“Hey, was that Whitney I saw driving away from your house a couple of minutes ago?” he asked as we started to walk.

I blinked and it all came to me in a haze. The double horn honk. The backing-up car. Whitney must have been dropping her sister at my house and had honked before driving away.

“Um . . . yeah,” I said.

“What was she doing over here?” Daniel asked.

Dropping your semi-clothed girlfriend at my house so she
could hand-feed my semi-clothed brother?
I thought.
Come on! Say it! Didn’t you just decide that somebody has to put her in her place?

“She stopped by to drop off something I left in her car last night,” I heard myself say.

What? Hellooooo? Who’s in charge of the voice box around here?

“That was cool of her,” Daniel said, totally oblivious.

What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I open my mouth and say, “Actually, right now your girlfriend is hanging all over my brother, and if you want to go back and see, I’d be more than happy to show you the way”? If he saw what I’d seen, he and Sage would definitely break up. And if Sage and Daniel broke up, he’d be free to date other people. Namely, me. So why couldn’t I say it?

Because you’re a wuss and a goody-goody and you know it’s not your news to relate
, the little angel on my shoulder trilled.
You’re just not a vindictive person, Annisa.

What I
really
needed was a devil to show up and take care of business—knock that angel off her high horse and start running the Annisa Gobrowski Show. Why, oh, why could I never conjure a devil?

When we got to school, the usually bustling back hall was deserted. Daniel and I paused in the doorway and looked at each other.

“It’s way too quiet in here,” I said.

“Something’s up,” he replied.

He let the door slam behind us and we double-timed it down to the front hall. My heart was pounding with anticipation. Had West Wind struck back somehow?

Moments later, we skidded into the packed lobby and
found our answer. The huge cloth banner that draped from one end of the lobby to the other usually read,
HOME OF THE FIGHTING CRABS
! Now it read,
WE’VE ALL GOT CRABS
!

Daniel and I both laughed and then slapped our hands over our mouths as at least fifty pairs of indignant eyes turned our way.

“Sorry!” I whispered.

“Oh my God, how did they do it? It’s perfect,” Daniel whispered to me, pulling me away from the pack.

“I know! The letters exactly match!” I replied under my breath.

“And how did they get into the school? We were here half the night,” Daniel said.

“We are going to have to get them back for this one,” I said. “Big-time.”

“No doubt,” Daniel replied.

“I couldn’t agree more,” a third voice entered the conversation.

A near clone of Daniel walked toward us with Lumberjack Bob and Tara Timothy trailing behind them. All of them looked sickened and glowery. Suddenly a somber mood descended upon us even though we were surrounded by terry-cloth robes and fuzzy bunny slippers. It was amazing how very seriously everyone seemed to take this whole prank-war thing. It was like I’d initiated a Navy Seal operation, not a spirit week event.

“Annisa, this is my brother, Christopher,” Daniel said, gesturing toward his clone with an open palm. “He’s the starting quarterback. Christopher, Annisa.”

“So you’re the one who started this whole thing,” Christopher said, eyeing me.

“Uh . . . yeah. I guess,” I replied.

“Nice,” Christopher said. “That’s a lot of school spirit for a transfer.”

Hey, I was just looking to fit in
, I thought. But I had a feeling that statement might refute this newfound Crab cred I seemed to be garnering, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Look, we’re going to have an emergency meeting at Goow’s house tonight to figure out how to retaliate,” Christopher said. “Spread the word to the cheerleaders and the team, but keep it as quiet as possible. Buzzkill’s on the warpath.”

He moved his eyes toward the front of the room, where Mr. Wharton stood fuming and red, directing the janitors as they removed the offending banner.

“Got it?” Christopher said.

“Yeah, got it,” Daniel replied.

I said nothing, and Christopher, Tara and Bobby sauntered away.

“Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot more time together,” Daniel joked.

I smiled back, but inside I was all in turmoil. How was I supposed to practice, go to an emergency prank war meeting, help Bethany with her website
and
study for the geometry test?

I was beginning to regret ever opening my big mouth about the prank war. I’d barely been here a week and already my life was getting way out of control—all because I’d wanted the squad to think I was cool.

When was I going to learn to think before I blabbed?

That day at lunch, I sat in the sun at the table Bethany and I had claimed the week before and waited. She had been late to homeroom, so I had yet to have a chance to apologize to her for the major infraction of the night before, and I didn’t
like this sinking feeling that she was walking around out there, mad at me. Toward the end of the period, when my carrot sticks were long gone and the sun was starting to grill me like a side of salmon, a shadow fell over my book. I looked up to find Bethany hovering over me. She was wearing a pair of dark pajama pants and a black tank top.

“You’re participating in spirit week?” I asked.

“Even I can’t pass up the opportunity to wear my pj’s to school,” she replied. She didn’t sit. Not a good sign.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about last night,” I told her.

“Whatev,” she said, looking away.

“No, seriously, I’m
really
sorry. I swear I’ll come over tonight and we’ll work on the site. As long as we can study a little too. I’m totally screwed in geometry.”

“You swear you’re coming?” she asked.

“I
swear
,” I replied.

“Cool,” she said with a smile. Relief rushed through me like a cold drink on a hot day. “So who were those losers at your house? They were all kinds of defective.”

I laughed. “Most girls
love
my brother!”

“That guy was your brother?” She whistled low and long. “You must’ve come out of the deep end of that particular gene pool.”

“Hello? Look at
your
brother!” I said. “He’s totally Cro-Mag.”

“I know! I used to call him Me-Bobby-You-Jane until my mother threatened to take my computer away.”

The bell rang and we made our way inside. I felt about a million times better already. I had been stressing about nothing. Bethany wasn’t irreparably mad at me. Why did I always blow everything out of proportion in my mind? Did my brain
like
to stress over nothing?