Shoshanna was pissed on Friday when she found out she couldn’t cheer my name because I was on a one-game suspension. She was more pissed when Addison beat our pathetic asses by six goals. And she was even more pissed when I told her I wasn’t going to her postgame party. But by Monday morning, it’s like she’s forgotten about all that.
She meets me at my locker, smiling and upbeat, her cheek painted with a sparkly blue #1. She holds out a cookie tin.
“You know there’s no game today, right?” I stash my gym bag in my locker and pull out a couple of books.
“I know that, silly,” she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her ponytail swinging back and forth behind her. Even her eyelashes are glittery. “Today is the first day of a brand-new week, and as your cheerleader, it’s my job to make sure you’re pumped and ready to kick some Clinton Central ass come Friday.”
“Actually, that’s kinda my job,” I say.
“Every little bit helps, Ryden.” She hands me the cookie tin.
“What’s this?”
“Brownies. Happy Monday!” She rises to her tippy toes, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and goes to class.
What is it with girls giving me food lately? Am I emitting some sort of “feed me” signal on a frequency only women can hear?
In homeroom, I try one of the brownies. They’re pretty good. But not nearly as good as the stuff Joni’s given me. I never thought I’d say this, but I’d take Joni’s dad’s vegetarian empanada over one of Shoshanna’s brownies any day.
I pass the tin around homeroom, and by the time it gets back to me, it’s empty.
Shoshanna’s little Monday Morning Cheerleader Surprise did get me thinking though…
At work that afternoon, I locate Joni in the bread aisle, restocking the pumpernickel and cinnamon raisin.
“Wassup, homie?” she asks. She’s wearing a tank top that has a picture of the Spice Girls on it. I think she’s wearing it ironically, but you can never be sure with her. One of her earrings is in the shape of a question mark. The other is an exclamation point. I guess the stud in her nose could be considered a period.
“Hey.”
She holds up a bag of bread with a grin. “Look, this is your bread.”
I glance at the loaf and then back at her, trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. “Huh?”
She points to the writing on the package. “Rye bread. See? Ry bread? Your name is Ry. This is your bread.”
I shake my head. “You do realize you’re nuts, right?”
She points to a different loaf of bread with a dorky grin. It’s banana nut bread. Nuts for the nut. I roll my eyes, and she laughs and shelves the package of rye. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.”
“Good. As long as you’re aware, then it won’t be too much of a surprise when someone finally has you committed.”
“Noted.”
“So we’re playing Clinton Central on Friday,” I say. “It’s an away game, so we’ll be on your home turf. Want to come?”
Joni purses her lips. “I don’t know, Ryden. I’m trying to stay away from school-oriented social events. It’s bad enough I have to spend all day with a building full of people who know every embarrassing detail of my life. Spending after hours with them too? Not so much.”
I nod. “Makes sense. Okay, well, just thought I’d ask.”
I walk away but feel her eyes on my back right up until the moment I round the corner.