She shrugged him off. “Shut up and go away.”
The first bell rang.
“It’s one date. I haven’t broken the pact.” I bit back the words “stupid,” “idiotic,” and “dictatorial,” all of which threatened to sneak into the sentence.
Hil’s eyes narrowed, like she’d heard them anyway. Or maybe in response to it being five against one. “Yet,” she growled, the heels of her boots clicking on the tile as she stormed down the hallway.
Hil was still angry at lunch. She was like fireworks: beautiful, volatile—and potentially dangerous. “So, you and Ryan,” she mused as I sat down. “Well, since I slept with him freshman year, I guess I can’t say you have bad taste.”
I could play this game. “He could make a good boyfriend. He really wants this.”
“By this, do you mean sex? You still haven’t, right?” asked Lauren. I rolled my eyes and she added, “Just checking! I mean, you didn’t tell us you were going to be absent Wednesday or your Ryan news. Who knows what else you’re holding out on us?”
“Or what other promises you’ll break,” muttered Hil.
“It’s one date, Hil. Drop it.” She did, and the table became quiet, making the looks Hil and Ally were exchanging even more obvious.
“About tonight …” Ally played with her pretzels, lining them in rows on her lunch bag. “Coach Lindsey called a captains’ meeting after school—I think she’s going to suggest some changes.”
“Like?” I asked.
Ally exchanged a do-I-have-to? look with Hil. “Like moving Emily up from the JV squad.”
“Did someone get hurt?” I hadn’t heard anything or seen lockers decorated with “Get Better” balloons.
Hil answered me. “We’ve given Emily your spot in lifts. It’s only the third week of school and you’ve missed four practices. Just rest up until you can tumble again.”
Shame colored my cheeks. I’d gone from our best tumbler to an afterthought: a girl who’d step aside and clap when flyer stunts were performed. A sign I was replaceable. “Oh.”
Ally looked closer to tears than I was. “It’s the best thing for the whole squad. It’s Coach Lindsey’s decision, but we thought it’d be better if you heard it from us.”
“You okay?” asked Lauren.
“Clearly she’s not. Mia, I’m not sure what’s going on, but you’ve looked like crap since you got back from Connecticut.” This was Hil’s invitation to confide, but I couldn’t accept it.
“I’m fine. Thanks for your concern and I’m sorry about cheerleading, but I don’t need any more crap about Ryan, or being sick, or how awful I look!”
Ally flinched and Hil’s scowl intensified, but Lauren spoke first, diffusing the anger by deflecting attention. “That is so unfair! Mia looks worse than usual—no offense—and she ends up with Ryan Winters. I lose three pounds and no one even notices.” She frowned at her apple and waited for us all to compliment her, which we did.
“Do you think Bill’s brother will be at the party tonight? He’s …,” she continued.
I tuned her out and took stock of the past forty-eight hours: I’d agreed to a date but lost my spot on the squad. I’d confided in Ryan but alienated Gyver. If I were Dad, I’d create a T-chart with these facts, but what conclusions could I draw?
Chapter 24
“I hate when they have captains’ meetings,” Lauren griped while driving me home after school. “It’s like advertising: hey Lauren, you weren’t picked to be captain, so you can just head out while the important people stay. And it sucks about your spot. If I were captain, I’d fight for you.”
I didn’t care at all—but I knew I should, and before cancer I cared quite a bit.
“Want to come in and hang out until the game?” I offered instead of agreement.
In the kitchen I hunted through the cabinets. “Want some hummus and crackers? Or we have ice cream, but it’s made from tofu.”
“That’s okay, I probably shouldn’t anyway.” Lauren grabbed a water and headed to my room. I swallowed my meds and followed, hoping there wasn’t anything incriminating lying around.
Except when I entered my room and found her sitting at my desk paging through the magazine Gyver’d read, I was almost disappointed. It’s not like I wanted her to be trying on a hospital bracelet or reading a chemo pamphlet, but a sign I should tell her or a situation where it was unavoidable—maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Ryan had handled it.
“You’re staring at me. Is my hair huge and frizzy? I swear I look like a Chia Pet half the time.”
“What?” I laughed. “You’re ridiculous. I love your hair.”
“Sure. Now sit and tell me all about Ryan. I want to hear everything.”