Kasey Screws Up the World (18 page)

MY FAVORITE DAY OF the school year used to be the annual Fall Pep Rally. They could bench me as an alternate during games, but during the pep rally, the team had no choice but to allow me to walk beside them in uniform. When Lara introduced the team last year and announced my name, my eyelashes fluttered closed as I savored the stream of claps in response. Sure, the clapping had been steady throughout all the introductions, but a tiny part of me let myself believe the applause was for me only. The very best part happened when I secured my spot in the last row and hit every jive of my hips and stomp of my foot in sync with the other girls. It didn’t matter if the students in the auditorium needed 20/20 vision in order to see me from. All that mattered was that I was part of it.

Now, it didn’t matter to anyone else that I wasn’t.

As I entered the auditorium behind Lonnie, I concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other as my shoes padded across the gray carpeting in the auditorium. A teacher ushered us into the third row. A sick feeling of dread pulled me into the red canvas seat like an anchor. I would have preferred to sit in the back but like classroom seats, the coveted slacker area had already been taken. Oh the irony of being early just so you could slack off without being under the watchful eye of the administration sitting on the stage.

“Think of it this way.” Lonnie balanced his elbow on the armrest between us. “This will give you the perfect opportunity to act unimpressed at the dance team’s performance.”

“Lucky me.” I willed a case of sudden-onset pneumonia. I faked a cough to test it out and Lonnie shook his head at me with a knowing purse of his lips.

“So. I have news.” He tapped out a rhythm on the armrest, setting his words to music. “Or lack of news, rather.”

“Hmm.” I pressed a finger to my lip. “That sounds like a subtle attempt at distracting me.”

“The Clark impersonator wasn’t Ali. Denise told me Ali said, and I quote, ‘what, do you think I have no life?’“ Lonnie changed his voice into a high-pitched falsetto that sounded nothing like Ali.

A breath seeped from my throat. It wasn’t Ali. That meant the first Clark commentor might have really been Finn. But the commentor never returned. That led more credence to the theory that it was someone trying to start shit. My public announcement of not accepting any comments from impersonators probably made them give up the effort. I sucked on my lower lip.

Something Lonnie said caught up with me. “Wait. You talked to Denise?” I forced the end of my sentence to sound hopeful but I worried he might catch the way my voice shook on her name.

Lonnie focused very intently on the way his jeans faded in the knees. He shrugged.

“Did she say anything else?”

“Nope, she announced that and then marched to her seat. It was like a drive-by sentence. I doubt it even counted as a conversation.”

Not to her, I thought, but I didn’t say that.

I should have said that. Keeping that info to myself would only complicate matters more.

Awkward silence settled between us as the crowds around us chattered with the excitement of missing classes. Silences hadn’t been awkward between us since Ali’s party over the summer.

“And now,” our Principal announced, “The team that’s so good, they’re sure to win at Nationals.” She waited for the crowd to rile up in cheers. “The Manhattan Prep Dance Team!”

Ali and Denise strutted onto the stage in their sparkly leotards and skintight black pants that showed off all their curves. I used to complain about the revealing uniforms and how difficult it was to squeeze my big butt into them. If only that was my biggest problem these days.

They grabbed dual microphones and commanded center stage as they introduced each girl, one by one. They paused for several seconds after Crista Finnochio, where the Fishbeins used to be.

I sunk lower in my seat. No one else noticed the change but the absence of our names felt like a gap in the universe.

Denise read the next name, “Nikki Goldman,” and a girl with curly hair waved.

They didn’t need me at all. The space I’d left was just that, a space, a quick breath between names, nothing more. I inched even lower, desperate to use the back of the seat in front of me as a buffer, blocking out my ability to watch the performance with everyone else. Lonnie tugged on my sleeve until I gave in and scooted upright again.

They were reading about me. It was only fair I watched them. I deserved the torture.

“Denise looks good,” I said to Lonnie in an attempt to distract myself.

I hated the way my breath stopped as it waited for his response.

He flinched, then shifted toward me. “The dance team girls always do.” He met my eyes. “Did.”

Now, I flinched. The first beat of the music punctured the silence and the blood in my body ran cold. A few notes later and the audience caught on. I heard Lara’s name pop up from people around us. Laughter came in waves as students caught on to the joke. The Katy Perry song from the cruise pulsed its happy beats throughout the room.

Lonnie leaned into my ear. “Oh, this is cruel.”

“How did they even know? I only posted about the talent show last night.” This was just a coincidence, that was all, like with Lara. After all, the dance team had learned this routine last year. It was the song we’d used to win Regionals and kick our legs into Nationals.

The answer to my question became obvious when Denise broke out of the synchronized hip thrusting and twirled toward Ali. On perfect beat, Ali lifted her arms in the air and hopped off the ground. She curled her body in an aerial that landed on her hands right in front of Denise. Denise grabbed her ankles and swung Ali around one side of her body, then the other. The other girls in the line paired up and did the same.

The crowd went wild at the girl-on-girl swing dancing, by far the riskiest of our routines. Even Principal Somers clapped proudly at her protégés of students.

Lonnie tilted his neck at me. “They stole your moves.”

And the worst part was, they were better than me. I glanced down at my lap.

Lonnie tapped my arm. “Speaking of, you never said who won the talent show. It was you right?”

I gave him a tight smile. I knew he was just trying to do what he did best. Distract me again. I dragged my eyes away from the stage and the way my chest ached at the sight of the girls on it. “Nope. A ten-year-old girl with an amazing voice won. She deserved it.” I jutted my chin toward the stage as if my sister belonged there. “But so did Lara.”

He nudged me with his shoulder. “And you. You deserved it too.”

The music winded down as the girls shimmied one last time before jutting out their hips and freezing in their final pose. The audience erupted in clapping. I couldn’t bring myself to join my hands together. Lonnie offered the girls a single clap.

Ali shimmied to the center of stage and grabbed the mic again. Her smirk was directed at me. “I want to thank you all, our dear fans.” She swept her hand toward the crowd. “For your support. We couldn’t have made Nationals without you.” She leaned toward the audience conspiratorially. “And by that I mean the money you donated during our spring bake sale to get us to Regionals.”

I shifted in my seat. As if the swing dancing wasn’t enough already, the way she spoke and jabbed at the crowd reminded me way too much of the talent show, my debut—and final—improv performance. Lonnie must have realized it too because he met my eye.

“But more importantly, we couldn’t have made Nationals without
us
.” She gestured back at the girls, who all strode forward to join her at the edge of the stage.

Denise hesitated for a moment, before coming forward just enough to be visible despite breaking the tight formation and standing behind everyone a step.

“Our team is so talented this year with no weak links,” Ali continued. Students in the front two rows swiveled in their seats to look at me. Lonnie waved at them until they turned around. “We threw our routine together in just one hour before school today. That’s how polished we are. We don’t even need to practice all day long.” Her eyes zoomed right to me.

I forced my lips into a straight line. They wanted a reaction from me. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Still, I dug my fingers into the edges of my seat.

“But I also must acknowledge that we wouldn’t be on our way to Nationals in Texas or as perfect as we are today if it weren’t for Lara Fishbein.” She paused to let that sink in. My pulse thumped audibly in my ear. “The loss of her talents was such a detriment to the team, and she is surely missed.” She took a deep breath into the microphone. “So please join me in a moment of silence as we remember her.”

The whispering in the crowd ceased. Ali closed her eyes. The other dancers followed suit. Denise tapped Ali on the shoulder but I didn’t pay attention to the result. I frantically looked around as student after student dipped their head to their chest and reflected on my sister.

“Holy crap,” Lonnie said.

I jumped out of my chair and rose to my feet. “She’s not dead!” I shouted before I could stop myself, my voice carrying across the auditorium.

Ali’s eyes snapped open and a slow smile spread over her face. “Her career is.”

I ran out of there, the same way Lara had run out of the talent show: with all eyes on me as I retreated.

That was one way to steal the spotlight.

PIER PRESSURE

Posted by Kasey at 2:23 P.M.

Wednesday, September 10

Past Mood:
Restless

SAT Word Of The Day:
Altercate. Definition: Our fight definitely altered things between us significantly.

Music I Am Currently NOT Listening To:
That Katy Perry song.

Okay people, this is where it gets good. Or from my perspective, bad. FYI, I disabled comments for this post. Yes, I’m a coward.

Despite the fog of sleep, the slam of a door alerted me to my sister fleeing the room. Her covers were twisted in a path toward the door, abandoned like a glass slipper left behind. I ran after her in my pajamas and cut her off by the elevators.

“Lara, please talk to me.”

The redness around her eyes couldn’t be mistaken for sunburn. She tried to edge past me toward the stairs, but I matched her move for move.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No you’re not, you got what you wanted.” Her words were clipped, chopped off at the ends like she’d taken a knife to them. “Mom’s freaking pissed at me. She won’t even let me go to Cancun because she thinks I ‘overexerted’ myself. They’re going out to dinner though. If you go with them, you’ll have them all to yourself, what you’ve always wanted.” She rolled her eyes. “And Hayden stood me up last night. Are you happy?”

A cool blast of air conditioning sent shivers down my body. “Lara, please. Let me make it up to you.”

“You can make it up to me by leaving me alone.” She jammed her finger into the elevator button and kept pressing it.

I softened my voice. “My offer still stands. Tonight, we’ll sneak out to Cancun and find you a new boy, a cuter—”

“I don’t want a new boy. I want Hayden.” The elevator doors opened and she shoved past me into the tight space. “And I don’t need your help. I’ve gotten this far on my own, thank you very much. The only set back happened when
you
intervened.”

I could have followed her inside. But I let the elevator take her away from me.

I had a different plan now.

I got dressed and headed to the golf simulator where I knew Finn and Hayden would be. Eighteen holes of golf were tucked away into a Wii-style video game. When Hayden swung the club, it looked like he was aiming straight for the ocean except without the wind to mess up his shot.

“Missed you.” Finn put his arm around me.

“Hold that thought.” I shrugged out of his grasped and marched up to Hayden. “I need you to give Lara a second chance.”

Hayden chuckled. I crossed my arms and shot him my fiercest look.

He sighed, tilting his visor. “I’m not looking for anything serious and last night, she really freaked me out.”

“Why? Because she messed up in the talent show? Don’t hold that against her.”