Ann Martin - Stacey And The Cheerleaders

Easy, Stacey, I told myself. This is not a big deal.

"I didn't like that movie either," announced Corinne Baker, who was sitting next to Robert across the table. "Sequels are never as good as originals."

"Never," I agreed.

"Also the acting seemed, like, amateurish," Corinne continued.

"Exactly," I said.

Sheila shrugged. "I didn't notice. I was too busy watching Todd Byron — or else I had my eyes closed."

She giggled, and Marty gave her ribs a nudge.

"SheiZa," Corinne scolded. "You don't have to embarrass Stacey!"

"I'm not embarrassed," I replied.

"Corinne, I'm sure she's kissed guys before," Sheila said. "Right, Stacey?"

"Sure," I answered. (Yes, it's true.)

Corinne seemed surprised. "Oh. It's just that — well, I didn't think the girls in your . . . you know, crowd — "

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know," Corinne went on. "Those girls you hang with. The baby-sitters. Some of them are so young."

I realized she'd seen me with Jessi and Mal-lory in school. "Well, a couple of them are, but most of us are eighth-graders."

"Uh-huh." Corinne didn't sound impressed.

"Don't be such a snot, Corinne," Sheila snapped. "I mean, we all go through that stage. You did, too."

That stage? Was I going through a stage? Was baby-sitting something you grew out of? I never thought of it that way. Older girls babysat.

Before I could say anything, the pizza arrived. "Help yourself, guys," RJ offered to the others. "We can always order another."

RJ, Marty, Robert, and I all reached for slices. My piece and Robert's were stuck together. As we pulled them apart, the cheese made a gooey bridge.

"Oops!" Robert laughed as he pulled the cheese apart.

Whoa.

Cute Alert. Four alarms.

I hadn't taken a close look at his face before. He had dark brown hair that fell over his forehead, dimples, and a smile that should have had a DANGER sign on it.

I smiled and looked away. I didn't want Corinne to think I was after Robert. She was sitting next to him, so I figured they were together.

Well, Robert's eyes stayed on mine much longer than mine did on his. (Hmmmm . . . )

"Uh-oh, look who's coming," Marty murmured.

Jason Fox, who's in my math class, was walking toward us with two friends. "Hey, guys, good luck with the game tomorrow night."

"Thanks, buddy," RJ said.

Jason nodded and raised his fist in the air. "We're number one! Yeah!"

As he left the restaurant, Sheila burst into giggles. "What a dork."

"Hey," RJ said, "leave him alone. He comes to all the games."

Margie Greene leaned over from the next table. "Yeah, and stares at all of us. He doesn't care about basketball."

"Are you going to be there, Stace?" Corinne asked.

"I wouldn't miss it!" I said. "The whole — all my friends will be there." I had almost said

the whole Baby-sitters Club, but decided against it.

"We'll be doing some new cheers," Sheila explained. "Tell us if you like them."

"Okay."

"Carbo-loading, eh, guys?" boomed the voice of Mr. Blake, an SMS teacher.

"Yo, Mr. Blake!" Marty stood and gave him a high-five.

"I guess I found the place where the stars eat, huh?" Mr. Blake remarked.

We laughed. All of us "stars."

My rating for the night was rising. So what if the date hadn't been perfect?

It felt good to be in the limelight.

Chapter 4.

"A tisket! A tasket! Put it in the basket! Who's the best? SMS! Yeeeaaaa, team!"

I'd never been so excited about a sports event. Just hearing the cheerleaders practice made my heart flutter.

It was Saturday night, about fifteen minutes before the game. Mary Anne, Logan, Jessi, Kristy, and I had just walked into the gym. We were going to watch the game, then us girls were going to have a sleepover at Kristy's.

My friends were calm and happy. Me? I was a wreck.

Maybe it was because I actually knew everyone on the basketball court now. I was feeling nervous for them.

Sheila was perfecting her split. Darcy was figuring out moves with Penny Weller. RJ and Malik were shooting balls a zillion feet away

from the basket — and getting them in. Robert was dribbling another ball while Marty tried to bat it away. (What an expression — dribbling. You expect to see a trail of saliva. Why don't they just say "bouncing"?)

The gym was starting to fill up. Logan found seats for us near midcourt. I tried to catch Sheila's eye, but she'd started talking to Marty. The two of them looked soooo in love.

I pictured myself in her place. Imagine some big hunkified guy singling me out like that, in front of hundreds of people.

Sigh.

My eyes moved right to Robert. I don't know why.

"Chips? Malted milk balls?" Leave it to Claudia. She was already offering us junk food. Her shoulder bag was crammed with it.

"Thanks," I said, taking a bag of pretzels.

Corinne looked our way, just as I was stuffing my face. I waved and she gave me a smile.

I could see her eyes move from Jessi to Claudia to Kristy to Mary Anne, then quickly look away. Suddenly I didn't want those pretzels anymore.

I wondered what Corinne was thinking. What would I have thought if I were Corinne? Claud was rummaging around for snacks, wearing an outfit that suddenly seemed a little weird (a sequined vest over a man's white shirt

and bell-bottomed spandex pants). Kristy was gesturing around the court with a potato-chip bag as she lectured Mary Anne about the rules of basketball. Mary Anne looked pale and washed-out (and bored) in the bright lights. And Jessi — well, Jessi was acting like an eleven-year-old.

"This is so cool," she squealed. "I hope it goes into overtime so I can stay up really late."

Now, there's nothing wrong with saying something like that. I'd have felt the same way at that age.

But somehow it bothered me — just the way our pigging out did, and Claudia's outfit, and Kristy's lecturing.

1 shrugged it off. After all, your friends are your friends. Why should I be ashamed of them? That would be true snobbishness, and I was not going to behave that way!

Before long the players left the court. The cheerleaders sat on a bench, and the gym quieted down. Then a voice over the loudspeaker boomed out: "Welcome to Stoneybrook Middle School, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight the SMS Chargers will play the Sheridan Wildcats!"

Well, I thought I would lose my hearing. The gym exploded with cheers.

It turned out to be the first explosion of many. What an exciting game! Sheridan was a good team, better than we'd expected.

Whenever they were ahead of SMS, I felt my stomach knot up. Then the cheerleaders would go wild. The rest of us would join in their cheers, at the top of our lungs. Even Mary Anne was screaming.

By half time I was hoarse. My shin ached, too. I had banged it during a huge group hug with my friends, when RJ got a basket right at the buzzer.

The second half? Oh my lord, talk about tense. Neither team could keep the lead. Sheridan pulled ahead, then Stoneybrook. My fingernails were ragged. My stomach was a mess. I thought Kristy was going to have a heart attack. Mary Anne almost cried a couple of times.

I was having "deep identification." That's what my English teacher would have called it. She's always asking if we identify with any characters in the books we're reading. I feel so frustrated when I don't. Well, during this game I was identifying like crazy. When Marty fell and hurt his ankle, I grimaced. When Robert made a basket from far away, I felt ecstatic. And the cheerleaders? I think I'd memorized every move. I could swear my legs hurt from their splits.

Toward the end of the game, the players began losing their tempers. RJ collided with a

Sheridan player and started a fight. Robert had to pull RJ away and calm him down. The SMS coach, Mr. Halvorsen, got into a shouting match with the referee. With three seconds to go, the game was tied.