Despite a win at competition that Saturday and the subsequent victory as league champions for the first time in Holt competitive cheer history, the Cold War between Jessie and I continues. Jessie avoids me during our post-victory celebration. I flop into my bed the night after the cheer competition, my medal hung from the doorknob, and consider the stars on the ceiling.
"Wokie..." I begin telling my sad tale to the sympathetic brown eyes looking up at me adoringly.
February melts away into a wet, soggy March. I try to catch Jamie's eye at softball tryouts the first week of March when Coach tells us to split into pairs to warm up. During the last few years in travel ball this was a non-issue. Jamie and I always pair up. Instead, Jamie partners another freshman who cannot throw in a straight line and leaves me with a junior whose sole ambition is to leave welts on her partner's hand. I strongly suspect that my partner knows that I am a better player than she is.
And so tryouts go for an entire week. I take a line drive to the liver and despite managing to catch the ball and make a play at second, spend the rest of the practice on the bench with ice over my abdomen. Just for a moment that Jamie seems to want to come over and check on me, but refrains. Dad drives me straight to the E.R. when he picks me up, so Jamie has to find another ride home. Thankfully, nothing is wrong with me except severe bruising to my abdomen.
Coach posts the team lists on the last day. Unlike my cheer coach, who prefers a discussion, my softball coach prefers to keep us on our toes and uncomfortable in our standing. Just because someone makes varsity one year does not assure them a spot next year, as one junior finds out when she sees her name printed on the JV roster and promptly bursts into tears.
"Hey, congrats," a senior says to me as she walks away from the posted list of names. "You too, Jamie."
"On what?" we ask, hoping we made junior varsity.
"You're both on the varsity team."
Three years of summer ball, endless workouts and practices came to fruition in that moment. I want to hug Jamie. I want to high five Jamie. I want, above all, to celebrate this moment with Jamie.
Jamie smiles and turns to walk with this senior to the parking lot where our ride waits. I accept a hug from a senior also on the cheer squad and retreat with her to get our stuff and go home. I am tired, I am soaking wet from outside practice, and above all, I want to soak in the bathtub and have a good cry where no one can see or hear me.
"What did you make?" My dad asks as we pile into the SUV, still not speaking to each other. Just because we are not speaking does not mean our fathers are not still friends. The ride schedule will not be altered. I tried already.
"Varsity," we answer, each muddy, exhausted, and soaking wet.
"Well at least all those hundreds of dollars spent on travel ball have paid off," Dad responds. "Congratulations."
Felix climbs in the SUV just behind us, announces that he made the junior varsity track team, and grins at me the same way the neighbor's cat looks at us just before attacking our heels.
"I heard a rumor about you," he states.
"What's that?" My words come out muffled because I am pulling a hoodie over my head.
"The head drama teacher spotted you headed down the hall. You do know what the play is, don't you?"
Finally free of the material, I shake my head. My soaking wet hair sprays all over the seat and my seatmate. Jamie scowls. I take petty delight in her annoyance.
"Anne of Green Gables," Felix answers. "He wants you to audition to play Anne."
"Why me?" I ask, wringing out my hair.
Felix gives me a look like I am the dumbest person he has talked to all day. "Um, because of your hair..." He rolls his eyes at Jamie. "When I told him we were twins, he grinned and told me to tell you to go talk to him first thing tomorrow morning. He said the part is yours if you have a smidge of acting talent. Our intro teacher said you would be perfect for it. I heard her."
"Isn't Jessie doing the play?" Jamie asks, directing it exclusively at Felix. This is worse than the silent treatment.
"Yes, and Danny Algrim is trying out too."
"Oh, maybe he'll be Gilbert Blythe!" I say, suddenly interested.
YOU ARE READING
Forget Green Gables
Teen FictionBeing a high school freshman is hard enough, but what is a girl to do when her own mother has become venomous, her twin brother rockets to the forefront of high school popularity, and no amount of styling products will keep her hair tamed? As she m...
