SIRENS-TOMAHAWKS FIELD
Thursday, October 8th
4:08 P.M.
Massie felt like a chocolate cupcake.
Not because she had on too much self-tanner. Or because her gut was hanging over her Socc-Hers uniform. Actually, it was quite the opposite. She looked ah-mazing. Dozens of cheering fans poked giant foam No. 1 fingers in the air while chanting her name. That was the icing.
But just below the sugary surface was another layer. And it had a completely different texture.
It was dry and crumbly. But mostly bitter. Bitter because Kristen hadn’t helped her secure Dempsey. Bitter because Layne might actually have a chance. Bitter because Alicia was a better dancer, and knew it. Bitter because Claire and Cam were the perfect couple. Bitter because Alicia and Josh were running a close second. Bitter because Derrington was moving on. Bitter because her “triple B” comment to Dylan had been triple mean. And bitter because she couldn’t bring herself to apologize.
On one level, it was nice knowing she wasn’t the only girl on the team with a big fake smile. Dylan was covering her dry, bitter cake with icing too. And knowing that made Massie feel ah-lot less pathetic.
Tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-ta-ta-tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-ta-ta-tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-tom. Tom-ta-ta-tom-tom. Tom-tom.
BOCD’s marching band began playing the official tribal drumbeat of the Tomahawks while the teams took the field.
“Socc-Hers, prepare!” Massie lifted her clutch feathers over her head and shook.
The rest of the team followed and began.
“WE DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG OR RIGHT,
ALL WE KNOW IS OUR TEAM’S TIGHT!
WE DON’T CARE WHAT’S OUT OR IN,
JUST AS LONG AS OUR GUYS WIN!
IF IT’S LOSING THAT YOU FEAR,
FRANKLY, WE DON’T GIVE A CHEER!
WHOOOOOOO!”
They ended in a spirited tableau that paid homage to the High School Musical 3 movie poster. Even the players- applauded. Cam smiled just for Claire. Josh smiled for Alicia. Dempsey smiled for one of them. And Derrington, who was sitting in the stands again with Kristen and Dune, smiled for . . . Massie followed his gaze. It led straight to . . .
Ehmaaaaaga—
Someone’s bony finger poked her in the ribs.
“Let’s gooooo!” Alicia hissed. “The game started and you’re just standing there. How ’bout we do Score Galore, with the dance sequence from Stomp the Yard.”
Massie’s nostrils flared, wishing she could inhale Alicia and her cocky know-it-all dancer attitude and sneeze her out into Pigeon Parking Lot, where she would lie in a snotty, bird poo–covered heap until cheerleading season was over.
“We’re doing Cleat Feet.” Massie turned to her team and shouted, “Ready? And!”
“CLEATS!” (clap-clap) “ON YOUR FEET!” (clap-clap)
“SWEAT!” (clap-clap) “ON THE NET!” (clap-clap)
“SCORE!” (clap-clap) “ONE MORE!!!!!!” (clap-clap)
Derrington pulled himself up onto one leg and wiggled his butt in praise. And then smiled again . . . at her.
Dylan—yes, Dylan—responded with a flirty ponytail toss and a lower-lip nibble. Normally, Massie would have suspected Derrington’s Dylan-smiles were misfires: the result of a lazy eye or an attempt to inspire jealousy. But they had been spending a lot of time together. Derrington was rumored to be with another girl. And they both thought burps were funny. Annnnnd, come to think of it, Dylan was showing a lot of interest in the Chanel No. 19 hold, or rather, its release.
“One more time!” someone shouted.
Alicia!
And the Socc-Hers were doing Cleat Feet again.
“CLEATS!” (clap-clap) “ON YOUR FEET!” (clap-clap)
Who did Alicia think she was, calling the cheers?
“SWEAT!” (clap-clap) “ON THE NET!” (clap-clap)
Did Derrington really like Dylan? Was Cosmo wrong? Did boys like funny girls after all?
“SCORE!” (clap-clap)
Oof! Alicia smashed into Massie.
“ONE MORE!!!!!!” Alicia yelled. And they clap-clapped.
“Watch where you’re going!” Massie barked.
“Me?” Alicia barked back. “You’ve been in a total daze since the game started.”
The Socc-Hers slowed down to watch the fight.
“Again!” Massie called.
“Same cheer?” Layne moaned.
“Yeah!” Massie waved her peacock feathers under the LBR’s sensitive nose. “And get it right this time. Ready? And!”
“CLEATS!” (clap-clap) “ON YOUR FEET!” (clap-clap)
Alicia smashed into Massie again. “Turn left! Nawt right!”
“SWEAT!” (clap-clap) “ON THE NET!” (clap-clap)
Massie seethed. “It’s right first, then left! Gawd. Just because you took a few amateur dance lessons doesn’t make you Julianne Hough.” She gave Alicia a shove.
“Opposite of whatever you said!” Alicia shoved her back. “Because I am better than you!”
“Are nawt!” Massie fought to catch her balance as Dempsey ran toward them, kicking the ball toward the goal.
“SCORE!” (clap-clap) “ONE MORE!!!!!!” (clap-clap)
But the weight of Massie’s ponytail threw her off, and she smashed right into Dempsey as he passed. He lost his footing and rolled over on his ankle. A stocky guy in a gold and blue jersey captured the ball, sped off in the other direction, and scored one for the other team.
“Dempsey!” Layne shouted, racing to his side, along with his coaches and his parents.
He groaned through gritted teeth while they peeled off his sock.
“Booooooooooo!” the crowd began shouting.
“Alicia!” Massie squealed, quickly standing. “I can’t believe you pushed me!”
She addressed the crowd. “She pushed me!”
“Opposite of true!” Alicia shouted back.
“Boooooooooo!” the crowd continued, thumbs down, heads shaking in disgust.
“It was an accident!” Massie pleaded while her squad gathered around Dempsey.
They lifted him onto a stretcher and carried him off. Layne and Twizzler scurried after him.
“What are you doing?” Massie called. “The game’s not over!” She had considered following Dempsey as well, but they hadn’t even lip-kissed yet. It wasn’t her place. And if she wasn’t going, Layne certainly wasn’t. “Get back here or you’re off the squad.”
“Fine,” Layne shouted over her shoulder. “I’m off the squad!”
“Twizzler! That goes for you too!”
“She’s my partner! We come as a pair.” He followed Layne, his entire body burning red.
Massie was so embarrassed, she had no idea what to do next. Spontaneous alien abduction was looking like her only way out.
The crowd began chanting, “Purse . . . purse . . . purse . . . ,” while pointing at . . . her!
Massie’s icy heart melted instantly. Cancel the aliens! All was forgiven. They still loved her. They still wanted to be her. They still admired her accessories. Giving them what they wanted, she waved her beautiful custom peacock-feather pom-pom purse in the air and grinned.
“. . . purse . . . purse . . . purse . . . ,” they chanted even louder.
“Here it is!” She waved her purse harder. “Genuine peacock!”
Alicia tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, Hilary Deaf.” She smirked. “They’re saying curse.” She giggled. “Nawt purse!”
Massie gasped.
Just then someone threw a giant No. 1 finger at her back. It was made of foam, but it cut like a knife.