I opened my mouth to explain this, perhaps explicitly, but Mr. J cut me off.
“I know,” he said, “and believe me when I say that I don’t think you’re entirely to blame for this situation, but we still need to do something about it.”
The poor guy looked so torn. I blame the cheerleading uniform. He just couldn’t give detention to a girl who hadBHSemblazoned across her chest.
“I should give you detention,” he said, sounding for all the world like a kid faced with eating the most dreaded of vegetables, “but I know how hard you girls have been working lately to get ready for the big game against Hillside this weekend, and I can only imagine how much stress you’ve been under.”
The sad thing was, Mr. J didn’t know about the true nature of the Squad. He really thought we were just cheerleaders, and this was the way he treated us. I can only conclude that he had some kind of mental illness or childhood trauma that gave him an incredible soft spot for all things cheerleadery. I made a mental note to ask Zee about it, and the moment I did, I started to wonder if the government had anything to do with the fact that the vice-principal at Bayport High had a weakness for cheerleaders. It would be just like the Guys Upstairs to handpick a vice-principal guaranteed to allow us to do whatever we wanted, or, more to the point,neededto do.
“If this happens again, Toby, we’ll have to have a very serious talk.”
He couldn’t even bring himself to really properly threaten me, and this from a guy who’d never had trouble chewing me up and spitting me out before I’d ascended to the top of the social echelon.
“Just give me detention,” I grumbled. I’d hated the favoritism at this school before I’d been a cheerleader, and I wasn’t all that fond of it now.
“Toby, I would never ask you to skip the pep rally this afternoon over something as mild as a disagreement with a teacher.” Mr. J looked shocked at the mere suggestion, as if he hadn’t told me how serious my behavior was moments before.
“The pep rally,” I repeated, and then the image of Jack watching as I jumped up and down and cheered my butt off popped into my head, followed directly by the words that had driven me here in the first place.
So is it true that Jack Peyton is going to ask you to homecoming during the pep rally?
“Go ahead,” I told Mr. J. “Ask me to skip the pep rally. Please.”
It would solve almost all of my problems. I wouldn’t have to take the final step in my transformation to cheerleaderdom, I could successfully avoid Jack and any questions he may or may not have been planning to ask me that afternoon, and being in detention might even make me feel a little more like my old self. It didn’t resolve the body glitter situation, but all things considered, that was probably hoping for too much.
“Toby, Friday is homecoming. It’s a big game, and a big dance, and this pep rally is the start of it all. The nominations for homecoming court will be announced. I can’t let you miss that.”
“Sure you can,” I encouraged, trying to keep the hopeful expression off my face. “I did a very bad thing. I deserve to be punished. No pep rally for me.”
“No,” Mr. J argued. “You didn’t do anything. Not really, Toby. We both know how Mr. Corkin can be. I’ll be sure to talk to him about his attitude toward you.”
I’d seriously had dreams like this before. Corkin sending me to the office only to get his butt chewed out? It was priceless. It was not, however, necessary, and avoiding the pep rally was. There was no way I could just play hooky. The Squad didn’t work like that, and neither did I. But if Mr. J told me I couldn’t go …
“It really wasn’t Mr. Corkin’s fault.” I practically choked on the words, but I said them. “I have an attitude problem. I have no respect for authority.”
I could tell just by looking at him that Mr. J wasn’t buying it. He’d somehow rewritten history so that I was the victim here, and nothing I could say or do would convince him otherwise.
“I told him to kiss my a—” I said desperately.
Mr. J, darn him, started laughing before I even finished the final word.
“It’s not funny. It’s bad. Very bad.” Even as I tried to make the argument, I couldn’t help but remember the look on Corkin’s face, and it took everything I had to keep from laughing myself.
“Toby, you’re a good kid, and the other girls need you. It’s homecoming, and I’m feeling generous. Don’t bother arguing. I’m not giving you detention, and that’s final. Now go back to class.”
It was official. My life had done a complete one-eighty. A month ago, I couldn’t have begged my way out of detention, and right now, I couldn’t beg my way in.
“On second thought,” Mr. J said. “Don’t go back to class just yet. I think you and Mr. Corkin need a break from each other. Why don’t you just take a breather?”
What kind of messed up system was this? I shouted profanities at a teacher, and as punishment, I got to skip out on the rest of the aforementioned teacher’s boring lecture? How was this even possible?
You’re a cheerleader, I told myself. And a spy. Anything is possible. Except, it appeared, getting out of the pep rally that afternoon. Go figure.
CHAPTER 5
Code Word: Pep Rally
“Clap your hands, everybody! Everybody, clap your hands! Let’s hear it for the Lions—make some noise, you Bayport fans!”
