Authors: Clarissa Carlyle
“Hey, cheer tart,” they would call to her. Alex would ignore them, defiantly keeping her head held high, but they managed to get through her armor. Not so much them, but the whole situation. By the time her head hit the pillow in the bedroom she shared with her brother, she would be crying soft, silent tears so as not to wake him.
As the game unfolded, Alex struggled to remain focused, her mind drifting, as it often did. She’d lost track of the score, though she could tell from the jubilant cries of both the crowd and her squad that Woodsdale was winning.
“Go team!” Claire rose up and clapped after a particularly impressive try.
“Alex, come on!” she urged her friend to stand up with her. “Where’s your school spirit?” she asked with concern.
“Sorry.” Alex sighed. “I think I left it in the locker room.”
She forced herself to lead the girls in some celebratory chants, trying to smile as widely as she could.
As the game was closing down, the girls resumed their spots on the bench, each aching from all the kicking and spinning. Alex was tired. Her head throbbed from having her hair pulled up tight, and she rubbed at her temples, wishing the rest of the evening away. It was then that she felt a pair of eyes upon her, which was unusual as people were usually too preoccupied with the game to care about the cheerleaders.
Glancing up, she tried to locate the source of the eyes and spotted Mr. Simmons sitting to her left a few rows up. He looked away a second too late, and Alex realized he had been watching her rather than the game. He was still wearing the same shirt and jeans as earlier. He was talking to a history teacher next to him, both now looking out at the game as they spoke.
Alex shook her head dismissively; surely he hadn’t been looking at her? She must have been mistaken. Perhaps she was more tired than she realized.
At last, the game ended in victory, which meant that there were high spirits all around. The players came running over to the cheerleaders, which they only ever did if they won. Some girls were dating players and indulged in some very public displays of affection, while others merely flirted.
Jeff came running over to Alex, a big smile on his face.
“We won!” he told her proudly.
“Yeah, you did, great job.” Alex smiled and tried to maintain her exuberant cheering demeanor.
“I told you we’d win if you were here!” Jeff smiled fondly.
“No, you guys did it all on your own.”
“Sucks that you got detention.” Jeff sighed. “That new math teacher is a douche.”
“Yeah, he is,” Alex agreed.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Jeff asked hopefully.
“Thanks, but my mom is already here to take me back,” Alex politely declined, making sure she looked disappointed that she couldn’t take him up on his offer.
“Oh.” Jeff looked deflated, but it was only momentary as the other players rallied around him and insisted they go over to some house party to further the celebrations. He ran off with them, arms around shoulders, and didn’t glance back at Alex.
“Are you going to the party?” Claire asked as they headed back to the locker rooms.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got detention after school tomorrow. My mom is already crazy mad at me.” Alex sighed.
“That blows.” Claire looked sadly at her friend. “I’m sure there’ll be a party this weekend you can go to!”
“Yeah.” Alex pretended to look hopeful as she took down her ponytail, relieved to have her hair free and cascading around her shoulders, glad to remove some of her shackles.
****
“I can’t believe you’ve got detention.” Jackie Heron sighed in disapproval over breakfast.
“It’s not my fault,” Alex protested.
“No, of course not, you’re just an innocent victim!” Jackie replied, audibly annoyed.
“I am!” Alex held her spoonful of cereal poised before her mouth, unable to take a bite while she felt she was being unfairly accused.
“Alex, you get detentions for bad behavior. I just don’t understand it, any of it. You used to be so well behaved. Maybe you’re angry, I’m angry too, but you can’t let it rule your life.” Jackie’s tone was calmer now.
“Leave it, Mom,” Alex warned.
“I’m just trying to talk to you.” Jackie smiled, but her eyes flicked briefly past Alex to the clock on the wall.
“You’re never around to talk, Mom,” Alex snapped, no longer hungry, returning the cereal on her spoon to the bowl on the table.
“I’ve got to work!” Jackie replied defensively. “I’m trying to support this family on my own. It’s not easy you know!”
“None of this is easy!” Alex yelled, grabbing her backpack, desperate to leave the confines of the trailer. It felt like all their emotions were constantly bouncing off the walls in the small space and they were powerless to do anything other than collide with them.
“Alex—” Jackie called after her daughter, but it was too late. The trailer door slammed shut as Alex headed out towards school.
****
Despite the morning sunshine, Alex felt cold. She quickened her pace to try to bring some warmth to her skin, but it did no good. It pained her that perhaps her mom was right, that maybe a big part of Alex’s current issues was that she was angry. But she didn’t want to believe that, she didn’t want to be one of those kids who is full of unresolved anger and goes around blaming the rest of the world for their troubles.
Alex arrived early at school, so the parking lot was relatively empty. There were still remnants of the previous night’s victory floating around: a discarded banner and some contraband beer cans.
The banner floated gently in the morning breeze and looked strangely beautiful. Like how a plastic bag caught in a draft can appear graceful and elegant even though it was ultimately just trash.
Walking past the banner, Alex kicked at it, putting an abrupt stop to its breezy ballet. She was in a foul mood. With each step towards school she felt her mood deepen into darkness. It was not going to be a good day.
****
After a long and arduous day, Alex wanted nothing more than to leave school behind. She was tired of pointless lessons about the liberty bell or correct grammar. None of those things mattered to her. In fact, nothing seemed to matter anymore.
She just wanted to lose herself in being Alex Heron,
Head Cheerleader
.
“A few of us are heading to the mall after school,” Claire told her breezily as they walked along the corridor.
“You should come.” She smiled. “Jeff will be there,” she added teasingly.
“I can’t.” Alex sighed.
“You can’t?” Claire raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her best friend.
“I’ve got detention.”
“Oh crap, yeah. I’m sorry, that sucks.”
“Mmm.”
“Why don’t you come along afterwards?” Claire suggested hopefully.
“Can’t.” Alex shook her head. “I’ve got to get back to take care of my brother.”
“Where’s your mom?” Claire queried.
“In France,” Alex hurriedly devised a response.
“In France?” Claire’s eyes widened with impressed interest.
“Yeah, Paris, out on a buying trip for Prada,” Alex explained modestly.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot your mom works for Prada,” Claire mused. “That’s such an awesome job.”
“I know.”
“You’re like, so lucky to have such a cool mom.”
“Uh huh.”
“My parents are both dentists. How boring is that?” Claire laughed.
The girls waved farewell, and then Alex headed back into the school. The corridors were clearing as students filtered out to commence their evening. It felt strange to be at school after hours without a club to attend.
It wasn’t the first detention Alex had been given, but it was the first that had fallen outside of school hours. Most teachers respected her cheerleading responsibilities and so kept her punishments to lunch break, or asked her to do some extracurricular work. Mr. Simmons had been much harder on her. Alex didn’t doubt that she deserved the detention. She had spoken out of turn. She just realized that she wouldn’t be able to get away with quite so much in his class, which worried her.
“Miss Heron, good evening,” Mr. Simmons greeted her as she entered the math classroom where the day previous he had assigned the punishment.
“There’s nothing good about it,” Alex retorted, throwing her backpack down on a nearby desk and settling down at it.
It was eerie to be in the empty classroom. All the neatly lined up desks were empty, and the room was totally still, apart from their breathing. The late afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows, bathing the room in an ethereal golden glow.
“That’s the spirit,” Mr. Simmons joked. “It’s always best to be positive about these things.”
Alex smiled falsely at him and got out her workbook and pen.
“Before we start work, we need to talk about why you’re here,” Mr. Simmons said, leaning against his desk rather than sitting behind it, adopting that stance which all young teachers do when they’re eager to connect with a student. Give them a few years and they’d be sitting behind it like all the others, thankful of the barrier it provided.
He was wearing a pale blue shirt with dark jeans, his hair lightly styled with gel, and Alex could smell cedar wood, which she assumed was his cologne. He looked good, there was no doubt about it, but Alex didn’t care how he looked. Nor did she care about how any of the guys at her school looked. She’d stopped caring about those sorts of things when she was fourteen. At eighteen, she had almost perfected her apathy towards the opposite sex.
“I’m here because you gave me detention,” Alex responded simply.
“But why did I give you detention?” Mr. Simmons pressed her further.
Alex squirmed beneath his scrutiny, fidgeting nervously with her hair, which she’d chosen to wear in a plait, along with a pink gingham shirt, denim hot pants and black Converse sneakers.
“You gave me detention because I was rude to you.” Alex sighed.
“So you know what you did wrong, so why were you rude?” Mr. Simmons asked. He wasn’t grilling her, he sounded genuinely interested in her explanation.
“I don’t know.” Alex shrugged, adopting the petulant teenager approach.
“You don’t know?” Mr. Simmons echoed. “Do you talk to all your teachers that way? With that lack of respect?”
“Sometimes,” Alex admitted.
“Don’t you respect them?”
“Generally, no.”
“No?” Mr. Simmons was surprised. “Why don’t you respect them?”
“Because they haven’t earned it yet.” Alex surprised herself with her answer and blushed. She’d heard those words before, many years ago, from her father. She didn’t even realize she’d been thinking that way until that very moment.
“You should respect authority figures,” Mr. Simmons told her gently. “The teachers are here to try to help you.”
“I don’t need help,” Alex instantly snapped at him.
“I think you do,” Mr. Simmons stated, his eyes boring into hers.