Harsh Pink with Bonus Content (5 page)

Kendra sticks out her chin, glaring at both of us now. Then she smiles, but it’s a chilly smile. “Time will tell,” she calls out nonchalantly as she rejoins her friends, saying something to them that I can’t hear. But they all laugh loudly. I’m sure at us.

“Great job at practice today, Reagan!” Falon slaps me on the back. “You’re going to be a fantastic addition to the squad.”

“Thanks,” I say as I wipe my damp brow on a sweat towel. I don’t know whether Falon is aware of Kendra’s attitude toward me or if she thinks that compliment is going to help. But I suspect it only makes Kendra more jealous.

As Jocelyn and I go into the locker room, I can feel Kendra’s eyes boring into both of us. I’m not sure which of us she hates more, but I suspect her original plan as first alternate was to replace me. I glance over at Jocelyn, wondering where she gets the nerve to taunt Kendra like she just did. I mean, she’s the youngest on the squad and obviously the least experienced. You’d think she’d know to keep her mouth shut. Still, she kept up really well at practice, and in some ways I suspect she’s a superior cheerleader to Kendra and her friends. I have no doubts that Kendra is choosing between the two of us. And something about the glint in her eye when I walk past makes me think she’s going after me.

Kendra sticks around as we’re going over the final details with our uniforms. I don’t see why an alternate should have a say in this, but I know it’s not worth mentioning. I am clearly outnumbered. In fact, as the other girls make choices about the uniforms, I decide not to speak out or voice an opinion. Why rock the boat? Jocelyn has shut down as well. I’m not sure if it’s a survival tactic or if she just doesn’t care. But as I write out my check for my uniform, I wonder if I’ll even get to wear it for long.

It’s like Kendra’s this vulture. And she’s just waiting for one of us to make a fatal error, then she’ll step in and devour us. One scathing glance from her and I feel like,
Why bother?
She desperately wants me to stumble. Or maybe she’ll just trip me herself. Whatever the case, I know I need to watch my backside around this girl.

By the time we’ve showered and are getting dressed, my stomach is feeling seriously knotted and I’m wondering if cheerleading will ever be fun again. Is it even worth it?

“Look at the
new
girls,” calls Kendra in this saccharine voice. She and her friends are dressing in the large open area of the locker room, in what I’m sure must be the prime real estate in here. “Isn’t it cute how Reagan and Jocelyn have paired off like that?”

The other girls laugh and make some cloaked but crude remarks, and I hurry to pull on my jeans. I just want out of here, the sooner the better. I glance over to where Falon is having what appears to be a serious conversation with Coach Anderson and I wonder if they might be discussing concerns over this alternate thing with Kendra. Maybe Falon is trying to get some support from the coach to put a stop to it. I can only hope. Then they both start laughing and my hopes evaporate.

“This is so unfair,” whispers Jocelyn as she zips her hoodie. She’s dressed now and putting the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“Huh?” I pretend I’m not on the same track, although I know what she’s talking about.

“You know.” She glances over to where Kendra and the rest are still getting dressed.

I sort of nod as I slip on my flip-flops and grab my bag. “Wanna get out of here and talk about it somewhere else?”

Her eyes light up. “Sure.”

It turns out that Jocelyn doesn’t have a car. But then, of course, she’s only fifteen, so why would she? I offer her a ride in mine and as I drive the short distance toward her neighborhood, which is less than a mile from the school, we commiserate over Kendra and how she’s influencing the squad and making us miserable.

“Why doesn’t Falon do something?” I ask. “She’s head cheerleader.”

“I think she’s wishing she wasn’t. I mean, she did a pretty good job and everything today, but she seems sort of checked out.”

“I know. It’s like she’s not really friends with anyone.”

“That’s because she’s so into Caleb Winters.”

“Who’s that?”

“Her boyfriend. He graduated like two years ago and they’re still going out. I’ll bet they get married after she graduates. It’s like she thinks she’s all grown-up and better than everyone.”

“That’s so weird.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, I don’t think we can count on much from Falon. Well, besides putting together good routines and bossing us around.”

“Meanwhile, Kendra, the alternate, lords it over the rest of us. It really isn’t fair,” I admit.

“And it’s taking all the fun out of everything,” she says as she points up the street. “It’s the yellow one, two houses up. And I was so happy about making varsity this year. Now I almost wish I could go back to JV.”

“That’s probably what Kendra’s wishing too.” I slow down my car.

“But it’s too late for that now.” Jocelyn reaches for her bag.

“Is that your house?” I ask, instantly feeling stupid, since this is obviously the only yellow house on the street. But it’s so frumpy and rundown, not terribly unlike this subdivision. Suddenly I feel like I’ve made a mistake. Or maybe she’s pulling my leg. She does seem to have a sense of humor.

She turns and studies my expression. “It’s not much, is it?”

“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “I just wasn’t sure that — “

“It is
not
fine,” she says with irritation. “It’s a cheap little house in a crappy neighborhood. And you might as well know, I’m not rich like the rest of you and I can’t — ”

“Hey, I’m not rich,” I toss back. “I’m just — ”

“Compared to me
you are rich.
I mean, look. You have your own car. You wear these cool, expensive clothes — I know that’s a Burberry bag. And I know your flip-flops are Juicy Couture. I have the fakes, but yours cost about forty-five dollars. So it’s obvious your parents have money, Reagan. To me that’s rich.”

“Trust me, Jocelyn, we’re
not
rich.”

“Well, my mom is single, my dad doesn’t pay child support, and she struggles just to pay the rent. I have a part-time job at the mall or else I wouldn’t be able to afford cheerleading, and I have to study the fashion magazines so that I can shop the discount stores. I know the other girls make fun of me, and someone like Kendra would tear me apart if she found out how poor I really am. For some reason, I thought you might be different. I didn’t expect you to make fun of me.”

“I am
not
making fun of you,” I say defensively. “And if it makes you feel any better, my mom is single too. And I don’t have a dad to pay child support either.”

“Really?” Jocelyn looks slightly hopeful.

“Yes. And I think it’s cool that you work to pay for your own clothes and cheerleading stuff,” I add. “That shows that you’re probably more mature than the rest of us.”

She sort of laughs. “Yeah, right. I’m just more desperate.”

“I’m sure my mom would totally love it if I got a job and paid for some of my stuff.” Of course, this only reminds me of my promise to help with Nana, which is sort of like a job if you think about it. Already it’s nearly six o’clock, which means Nana has been by herself a lot longer than usual.

“I gotta go,” I tell Jocelyn. “And don’t worry. I don’t care about that kind of thing.” I nod toward her house. Okay, the sad truth is, this
is
a little unsettling. I mean, I may be in frantic need of a friend, but I just wish I’d found someone with a little more money. Not that I can afford to be picky. But right now, Jocelyn is barely adding up to a class-B friend.

“And you won’t tell the others?”

“Why should I?”

She smiles and waves, and I drive off wondering what kind of a trap I am laying for myself here.

I’
M RELIEVED TO SEE THAT
I
MADE IT HOME BEFORE
M
OM
. S
HE’S BEEN PUTTING
in late hours at the bank, and her car’s not in the garage yet. I hurry into the house to run damage control on Nana. But what I see when I get to the kitchen makes me want to turn around and run the other way.

“Nana?” I call out as I survey a mess of what appears to be baking ingredients and pans and all sorts of things spread all over the granite countertops. “Where are you?”

“Oh, there you are,” says Nana as she emerges from the hallway. She has a messy apron over a pink sweatshirt, but her legs are bare, and from what I can see her bottom is bare as well.

“Nana!” I say in a shocked tone. “Where are your pants?”

She grins. “In the bathroom.”

“Why aren’t you wearing them?” I want to ask her if she’s gone out of the house like this but I don’t know if I can handle the answer.

She waves her hand. “Oh, I’m going to wear them. But I can’t find those … those things.”

“Those things?”

She frowns as if trying to think of something, then reaches around and slaps her bare bottom. “You know, those papery things that I — ”

“Depends?”

“Depends on what, dear?”

“I mean those things, Nana — Depends, the granny diapers.”

She looks embarrassed by this and I realize I don’t usually call them granny diapers around her, but I’m feeling desperate. Mom could be home any moment and —

“Yes! That’s it. Depends.” She looks puzzled. “Where did they go, Reagan?”

I head for the downstairs bathroom, the one she and I are supposed to share, although I’ve been keeping most of my personal things in the powder room, which I lock during the day. I only use the full bath to shower in, and if Mom’s not home, I sneak up and use hers instead. When I go into the bathroom now, it’s even messier than usual. Most of the drawers are pulled open, and some of the contents are strewn about the counter and on the floor. If a person didn’t know better, they might think a burglar had been through here.

“They’re in the
bottom
drawer,” I tell her as I pull open the extra deep drawer only to find it’s empty

“I don’t see any, Reagan,” she says sadly.

“Are you out?” I turn and look at her and she still looks puzzled. Then I look at the trash can and see that it’s nearly full. I want to ask her if she really used all those, but it seems pointless. And I am not about to go digging in there. “Is there any other place where you keep them?” I ask her, but she just shrugs. “How about your dresser in your bedroom?” I suggest. I had helped her put clean clothes away this weekend and I thought I saw a pair or two in there. “Let’s go see, okay?”

Unfortunately, her bedroom looks much like the bathroom — as if she’d been foraging, and I suppose she was. But, fortunately, there are two pairs of Depends in the top drawer of her dresser, one of the few drawers that’s still closed. I hand a pair to her and then find her pink sweatpants crumpled up on the floor by the bed. “Put these on,” I instruct as I shake them out. “Then come help me clean the kitchen.”

She smiles. “You’re a good girl, Reagan.” I nod. “Yes, I know.”

I hurry to clean up the kitchen and after a while, Nana joins me. If I tell her exactly what to do, she can do it. But it seems she can’t decide what to do on her own. “What were you making in here?” I ask as I put away the muffin tin.

“Angel cake,” she says.

“But you’re not supposed to use the oven,” I point out.

“I didn’t use the oven.” She happily swipes flour off the counter and into the sink.

“But how were you going to bake a cake without an oven?”

She smiles and points to the microwave. “That thing.”

“You’re not supposed to use the microwave either.” She frowns. “Oh.”

“If you want to bake a cake, you need to wait until I get home,

Nana.”

“Oh.”

Now I can hear Mom coming in the back door and the kitchen is still pretty messy.

“What’s going on?” she asks as she sets her briefcase down.

“We’re making dinner,” I tell her, winking at Nana, who grins like she wants to play this game.

Mom scowls at her kitchen. “It looks more like you’re making a mess.”

“Why don’t you go in the other room and relax,” I tell her. “Nana and I have everything under control.”