CHAPTER 4

Discouraging Words

Becca and I walked home with Monica. We tried to change her mind about being a cheerleader.

A Real Friend

… tells a friend when she’s making a mistake.

“Cheerleading is hard work,” I told Monica. “You’ll have to practice for tryouts every day.”

“And practice harder for the games,” Becca said.

“If you make the squad,” I added.

“I don’t mind hard work,” Monica said.

She was right about that. There was no way that I could accuse Monica of being LAZY. I tried something else.

“Cheerleading takes up too much time,” I said. “If I were a cheerleader, I couldn’t hang out with you guys or play baseball or go to the movies or watch Nick.”

I stopped talking. My seven-year-old neighbor, Nick, was the Menace of Market Street! (That’s where we lived.) It would’ve been great to not have to watch him!

“All the games are on Saturday,” Becca reminded Monica.

“Right,” I said. “You’ll have to quit taking your horseback-riding lessons.”

I thought that would get her. Horses were #1 through #10 on Monica’s Top Ten list of favorite things. She absolutely loved horses. She collected glass horses and horse movies, and her bedroom walls were covered with posters of horses.

“I wouldn’t give up my art lessons for anything,” Becca said.

“I don’t have to give up horseback riding,” Monica said. “I can change my riding times. That’s not a big deal.”

I was STUNNED. Once, Monica missed Tommy’s birthday party because she wouldn’t cancel her riding lesson. She HATED missing lessons.

“Cheerleaders have to look PERFECT,” Becca said. “Like fashion models.”

“No flyaway hair allowed,” I added. “You’ll have to use your allowance to pay for hairspray.”

“And you have to be PERKY!” Becca said. She held up her hands. Then she made a big, fake smile and waved her hands around.

I copied Becca’s dorky dance. “Happy, happy all the time,” I squealed.

“If I’m picked to be a cheerleader, I will be happy,” Monica said. “All the time.” She sounded kind of annoyed.

I should have shut up, but I didn’t. I kept talking.

“If Gina doesn’t like you, she won’t pick you,” I said.

Gina is the eighth-grade version of Anna. She’s also the captain of the cheerleading squad.

“The whole squad gets to vote,” Monica said.

“The other cheerleaders will do what Gina wants,” Becca said.

“And being popular counts more than being good,” I said.

“Anna, Carly, and Karen will make the squad for sure,” Becca told Monica.

4 cheerleaders needed - 3 popular girls = 1 spot open

“So your chances probably aren’t very good,” I said. I wasn’t trying to insult Monica. I was just being honest. The cool kids always got picked. That was just a fact of middle-school life.

“I’m going to try out anyway,” Monica said.

“Why?” I asked. “I just don’t get it.”

“I want to do something cool,” Monica explained. “And I want to be a leader. That’s what cheerleaders are. They stand in front of big crowds and get them to cheer.”

“That’s not the kind of leader Ms. Stark meant,” I said.

“You’re just mad because I want to do something on my own,” Monica muttered. She glared at me.

“I’m not mad, I said.

I didn’t want to argue. I hated arguing with Monica. Once, in fourth grade, we had a big fight. We both wanted to take the class rat home for winter break. Our teacher settled the argument. She let someone else rat-sit Toby.

Monica and I didn’t talk for two weeks. It was a horrible vacation. We made up the first day back at school. And we promised not to fight about anything silly ever again.

Three years later, we hadn’t had a single fight since.

Monica didn’t think cheerleading was silly.

I shut up.