WEDNESDAY 7:20PM
Darla, wearing a green T-shirt and gold shorts, lay face up on the basketball court. Eighty minutes into practice, her heart pounded, and her body dripped with perspiration.
Hands flat on the floor beside her ears, Darla took a deep breath, then pulled her knees to her chest. When all her weight was on her shoulders, she kicked her legs and pushed with her hands as hard as she could. Her momentum shifted. Her body exploded into the air, head rising over her legs.
Darla landed on her feet, then raced toward the mat. Arms extended, she leaned forward and threw herself at the floor. She spun feet over hands, touching the ground for the briefest of moments. She tumbled along the mat, her rotational speed increasing, executed a cartwheel without touching the floor, and finished with a full double.
Darla stuck her landing, held up her arms in a V-shape, and smiled for the imaginary crowd.
Veronica clapped. “Great stunt.”
“Love the aerial.” Talia nodded.
Mike checked the viewfinder on his camera and flashed a thumbs up.
Darla moved to the sidelines, grabbed her water bottle, and guzzled. She paused, prickles on the back of her neck. She wiped away the sweat, but that wasn’t it. More like someone watching her. She scanned the bleachers but didn’t see an—Jerry!
What did Jerry think he was doing at her cheer practice? Jerry saw her looking and waved. Fabulous! Darla turned her back to him. Couldn’t Jerry get it through his thick skull that she was mad and didn’t want to see him?
Darla sighed, and her shoulders slumped. She could go to the coach and have Jerry kicked out. Cheerleading practice was supposed to be closed to outsiders. But she shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was under her skin. Ignore him, focus on her stunts, and he’ll get bored and leave.
“Strike a pose!” Mike rushed up with his camera.
“No, I’m all sweaty.” Darla held up a hand to block the lens.
“Not sweaty, glistening. And it’s an impressive look. The hard-working, determined cheerleader giving hundred and ten percent at practice.”
“Nuh uh.” Darla shook her head. “If you want to take action shots at a distance, that’s fine. But no close-ups now. Only when I have full hair and make-up.”
“Come on, the photos would be scorching.”
Darla turned to Talia. “Please explain to your boy how things work around here.”
Talia put her hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Come on, you can shoot Ronnie and me.”
“Sweaty twins!” Mike beamed. “You got it.”
“What happened to glistening?” Veronica frowned.
As the three walked off toward a corner of the gym, Darla shouted at Mike, “You might want to tell your roommate he’s not welcome here!” She immediately regretted her actions. Snubbing Jerry was the best strategy.
Darla continued practicing: more kip-ups, round-offs, and Arabians. She didn’t succumb to the temptation to peek at Jerry. But knowing that he was present, she pushed herself harder and harder.
At eight, Coach Nightlinger blew her whistle. “Circle up, troops!”
The cheerleaders gathered around her.
“Solid practice tonight. I’m informed that Physical Plant will have the stadium ready to go for Saturday, so we’ll be playing Calvin Coolidge here. No long, bumpy bus ride to Vermont.”
This produced a round of applause.
“We’ll practice again tomorrow at five, then have a pre-game rehearsal inside the stadium starting at nine on Saturday. That’s all.”
She blew the final whistle. Cheerleaders grabbed their bags and headed out of the gym.
Darla spotted Jerry climbing down the bleachers and jogging across the court toward her. He waited all this time to talk to her? Only thinking about himself, not how she felt? Could it be any more obvious she didn’t want to speak with him? And to think she once considered him smart.
Darla formulated a plan. She spotted Marcus heading toward the exit, raced to catch up, and stepped in his path. Marcus was tall, with a dimpled chin and dark, curly hair, but terribly dull with the personality of an elliptical machine and the IQ of buttermilk. But that didn’t matter right now.
“Hey, Marcus. Looking good today.” Darla flashed her most disarming smile.
“Really?” Marcus reflexively grinned back.
“You bet!” Out of the corner of her eye, Darla saw Jerry approach. “You know we should really do some one-on-ones together. It could be fun.” She traced a finger across his chest. “You’ve got the muscles to launch me to the stratosphere.” She squeezed his bicep.
“Sure thing, Darla. When did you have in mind?”
Jerry stepped up to the two. “Hey Darla, I...”
Darla pressed herself against Marcus and wrapped her arms around him. She turned and gave Jerry a stony stare.
Jerry turned red, stood motionless for a few seconds with his mouth open, then stormed off toward the exit.
“Friend of yours?” Marcus watched Jerry slam the door on the way out of the gym.
“He’s nobody.” Darla broke their embrace.
“I’ve got some free time now, if you want to work out.” Marcus smiled at Darla, but it degenerated into a leer.
“I have to study.” Darla’s tone was bored and distant. “Let’s talk about it after tomorrow’s practice.”
* * *
Jerry stormed out of the gymnasium. What was Darla’s deal? He apologized. He was being reasonable. But if she wanted to hang all over some empty-headed, muscle-bound cheerleader, then let her. He continued the rant in his head, wandering across campus, not paying attention to where he was going.
Honk!
Jerry looked up to see the circulator bus. He was in the middle of the road, oblivious to the traffic. The driver leaned on the horn. Jerry scampered to the curb, shook his thoughts clear, and got his bearings. Lost in thought, he had walked all the way across campus. Ahead, Busby’s dorm, lights on in her window. They hadn’t spoken since her tirade about the article on Rick in The Underground.
Darla wanted to flirt and make him jealous? Two could play that game. Or was it a game? Busby was smart, maybe even smarter than Darla. And Buzz was plenty hot. Not cheerleader hot. But she had fiery red hair, legs longer than Darla’s, and that adorable Tennessee accent. Best of all, Busby wasn’t into weird mind games. Darla’s antics had done Jerry a favor.
If he called Busby, she’d let it go to voicemail. Better to knock on her door, redeem himself, and make the case for getting back together.
He spotted a pair of girls heading toward the dorm entrance and sped up so he could slip inside with them. He climbed the steps to the third floor and walked down the hall to Busby’s room. As he stood at the door, his stomach rumbled, and his knees weakened. He silently cursed himself; he shouldn’t be anxious. Relax. On his phone, he loaded The Underground article about Rick’s drinking, checked that it carried Fallon’s updated byline, then knocked.
Busby dressed in gray sweats, answered the door. She crossed her arms. “Williams.”
Jerry grinned nervously. “Hey, Buzz. I wanted to clear something up.” He held up the phone. “They are listing the authors for articles on The Underground now. You can see Fallon wrote that article about Rick, not me. Like I said, I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
She narrowed her eyes at Jerry.
“Intentionally, Buzz. I’d never hurt you intentionally.”
Busby pressed her lips into a thin line. “Thanks for the news, but I already saw that. You’re in the clear. For the article.”
Jerry sensed the conversation wasn’t going well. He tapped the phone and brought up Fallon’s other article. “Does Miranda also know?”
“Jerry?” A raspy voice came from inside the room. The door pulled back, and Miranda appeared in a black turtleneck and chinos. She pushed past Busby and threw her arms around him.
“Whoa, Miranda!” Jerry didn’t expect this greeting.
Miranda broke the hug. Her brown eyes were alive with delight, and she kissed Jerry on the cheek. “I know what you did. Trying to save me from choking. Thank you so much! And sorry about what I said before. You know, the article about me and the paper writing. I should have known you would never do such a thing.”
“Uh sure, Miranda, no problem. I’m just happy you’re okay.”
“Williams, I think we’re done here.”
“Hold on, Buzz.” Jerry raised his hand. “All I want to do is talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” Busby started to close the door. “Sanchez, in or out?”
“Out.” Miranda stepped into the hallway.
Busby turned away and slammed the door.
Jerry leaned against the wall and forced a smile at Miranda. “That could have gone better.”
Miranda put a hand on his shoulder. “I did make a case for you. But...” She shrugged.
“Thanks.” For the first time that day, Jerry realized his car was still off campus. “Miranda, can you do another favor for me?”
“Sure, hope this next one works out better. What do you need?”
“Give me a lift. I need to pick up my car.”
* * *
Miranda maneuvered her Camry through the streets of East Stuyvesant. “Jerry, how did your car end up all the way out here?”
He slumped in the seat. “Long story. Darla...the cops...Professor Johnson.”
“Busby and I have his class. Uh, I guess I mean had. It’s so weird that he’s dead.”
“I’m the one who found the body. Technically Darla found it.”
Miranda turned on to a side street. “Darla? That’s your new girl? The cheerleader?”
Jerry sighed. “Things didn’t work out. That’s why I came by to see Buzz. I thought maybe...”
“Chin up, Jerry. You’ll find someone else.”
“Does Dmitri have a sister?”
Miranda laughed. “No sisters, but he does have a load of good-looking cousins. But they all live in Russia.”
“Figures.” Jerry frowned. “Make the next left and drive all the way down to the park.”
“Got it.”
“I’m sorry that your paper writing exploits got into The Underground. Has the administration contacted you?”
Miranda chuckled. “Oh, I’m not that worried.”
“Really?” Jerry was surprised. “I mean that’s good, but why?”
“If the university comes after me for writing the papers, they have to go after all the football players who hired me. I heard it from a little birdie that the whole incident is going to be quietly swept away.”
“That’s great. Still sucks that you’re losing your paper writing business.”
Miranda shrugged. “I was probably going to have to give it up anyway. With Chat-GPT and all the other AIs and LLMs, no one was going to pay me a couple hundred when they can get an AI to crank out a paper for free.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
Miranda pulled up behind Jerry’s car and shifted into park. “But it’s not a total loss. Dmitri and I are thinking of starting a prompt writing business.”
Jerry laughed. “Miranda, I don’t want to put you in spot. I’d still like to be friends, even though it might be weird with you know, Buzz and all.”
“No problem, Jerry. We’ll still be friends.”
They hugged. Jerry hopped out of the car and watched her drive away in the dark as her taillights faded to nothing.