One thing you can’t avoid no matter what high school you go to, whether it’s a huge suburban one or a smaller country one that happens to be haunted:
Cheerleaders.
I see a pack of them coming my way as I’m getting some books out of my locker. It reminds me that there’s a big football game coming up on Friday night. I guess the cheerleaders are trying to get some good old Harrington High spirit.
A split-second glance does it.
I’m getting my books and look up and then see an image in my mind that doesn’t compute.
I look again toward the pack of six or seven girls and I see her.
No, that can’t be.
Kelsey is walking with the girls, dressed just like they are.
I’m staring probably with my mouth wide open in shock when Kelsey’s smile beams my way.
“Hey, Chris,” she says.
I say hi, then one of them says something in a hushed tone that only girls know and the pack laughs. I don’t think it’s mean, because I don’t think Kelsey has suddenly turned into a mean girl, but who knows.
What have YOU turned into, huh?
I’m still looking their way when I see her head turn around. She sees me watching her and seems amused.
I don’t think she ever told me she was a cheerleader. Did she? I met her in art class and she was a quiet little mouse with her glasses and her braces.
Somehow, the glasses and braces have been replaced by long legs and a sparkling smile.
You’re girl crazy, Chris.
Maybe I am. I don’t know.
I just know that something’s changed with Kelsey since last year.
Maybe we’ve both changed now that we’re seniors.
Maybe that’s just what happens to people.
Today is a strange day. First Lily texted me that she wasn’t coming to school. I asked if she was sick, and she texted back a simple YES. That’s all. And the rest of my texts today have gone ignored.
Then I see Kelsey dressed up as a cheerleader. That’s what I keep thinking—that she’s dressed up as one, not that she is one. But as I’m leaving the cafeteria early, since Lily isn’t around, the cheerleader comes up to me as if to prove the point.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Hi.”
She smiles in an awkward way, and it comes as a relief. There’s the Kelsey I remember. So not everything has totally changed in a short span of time.
“Where are your pom-poms?” I joke.
She laughs. “It still feels weird wearing this.”
“Probably would feel more weird if I was wearing it.”
This gets an even better laugh.
“You didn’t tell me you were a cheerleader,” I say, stressing the word. “I mean—if only I’d known.”
I see her blushing and know I’m overdoing it.
“Then what?” she says in a way that seems to reflect this new Kelsey Page I’m seeing.
“Well, then, I would have had to go out for football.”
“You ran track, so you’re fast.”
“Yeah, but I play soccer. Maybe I could have been their kicker.”
Kelsey looks older. She really does. And not just because the glasses and braces are gone. It seems like summer vacation really agreed with her.
“Do you have a minute?” she asks, looking around as though she’s nervous that people are watching us.
I nod. It’s funny. I no longer notice the people watching me. It’s not like it was when I first started. People seem to have gotten used to me. Which is great.
“I was wondering—well, it’s a big favor. And I just thought maybe to, you know—to ask you.”
“Wait a minute,” I say. “You want me to be one of those guys on the bottom of the cheerleaders who throw you up in the air and then catch you?”
Her face is lit up, and I know that whatever was there at the end of last year—especially during that dance at prom—hasn’t gone away.
But you’ve gone away, haven’t you?
“You’re going to laugh, but it’s kinda like that.”
“Have you seen my arms?” I ask. “I think I’d probably drop you.”
“No—it’s nothing like that. But for homecoming—you know they have a big game and a dance the following night?”
“I didn’t. I don’t think I had moved here yet last year.”
I’m trying to think of someone being a homecoming king of Harrington High. Then I realize I knew him—the wonderful Ray Spencer.
“Well—they always do something big, and this year, during halftime, the cheerleaders—we’re going to do a special routine.”
I nod, but suddenly I have an idea where this is going.
“And it’s—it’s going to be fun. I’m still not quite sure about all of this, but Georgia wanted me to go out for it my senior year. I mean—I never thought I’d make it.”
“Come on. You’re a natural.”
“That’s not nice,” she says.
“What?”
“Well, I just—I need a partner, and I don’t know any of the football players. So I was thinking—would you want to do the routine? With me?”
This is beyond surprising. And normally—if it were anybody else—I’d be shaking my head and saying, “Yeah, right.”
But I’m standing here—today of all days on my own—and Kelsey is giving me that sad puppy dog look that Midnight has mastered. And I’m feeling bad for ignoring her ever since that last dance we had.
It’s the least you can do.
“Sure,” I say with a casual shrug. “Why not?”
But this isn’t just because of pity or mercy or me being nice.
No.
Standing there—it comes back.
Stop, Chris, come on.
It comes back in a weird, strange way.
“And look—I know—the new girl and you—this isn’t a big deal. I just wasn’t sure who else to ask, so you know …”
“It’s cool,” I say.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to. You can think about it.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“There will be practices after school. Can you make them? Just—if not, it’s okay.”
I want to say Kelsey, please, it’s fine, but I don’t.
I just smile and nod.
“Okay, great. I’ll let you know when the first practice is. Okay?”
“As long as I don’t have to wear a skirt, I’ll be fine.”
She laughs and then gives an awkward “See you later” before leaving.
I see a group of football guys walking past and wonder what I’m doing. Then again, I haven’t really been thinking of the choices I’ve been making lately. I’ve been sort of just living in the moment. And saying yes.
All while trying to forget.