Wedding Belles (2 page)

On Wednesday, the sun is shining for a change, so it’s warm enough to hang out by the hockey-pitch steps, our usual haunt, during break. I head outside to catch the gang as they come out of class.

My best friend, Mills, is waiting for me by the door, but there’s no sign of our boyfriends, Seth and Bailey, yet. They’re also best friends, although being boys, they’d never admit it. Mills looks a little glum. Her mouth is turned down, and her eyes are dull and lifeless.

“Hey, Mills, you OK?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “I guess.”

It’s not at all like Mills to be down. She’s usually annoyingly chirpy in school. She’s one of those strange people who actually get a kick out of learning random stuff about volcanoes, etc.

“Come on, what’s up, Jelly Tot?” I ask.

She shrugs again. “Nothing.”

“Tell me right now or I’ll tickle it out of you.” I poke her in the side. She’s ultra-ticklish. You only have to wiggle a finger and say the word “tickle” for her to wince and squirm.

She swats my hand away, scowling. “Stop! I’m not in the mood, Amy.”

“Sounds serious. Is it Bailey?”

“No.”

“Something at home?”

She shakes her head. I’m not really surprised that nothing’s wrong at home. Mills has the calmest, most settled home life of anyone I’ve ever met, although her sister, Claire, did have some ups and downs recently. She’s a ballerina, based in Budapest in Hungary. She had some problems with bullying, but I thought that was all sorted out.

“Is it Claire?” I ask.

“No, Claire’s great. Madly in love with Péter and getting all the best solo parts.”

“What, then?”

Before Mills can answer, Annabelle Hamilton and her D4 gang pour out of the door in a waft of sickly-sweet perfume and grind to a halt beside us. The D4s are the mean girls in our school, all dyed-blond hair ironed into submission, orange Fake Bake flesh, and super-superior attitudes. And Annabelle’s their queen bee.

“Loser alert.” Annabelle sniffs the air around Mills. “And, like, what is that horrible stench? Smells like a kid who’s wet her knickers. I know — it’s fear. Is it because of the Full-up Liberty practice today? Mills, you’d better not wobble and fall off again like you did last week.” She gives a nasty sneering laugh right in Mills’s face.

Annabelle and Mills are both on the All Saints, the school cheerleading squad. They’re supposed to be teammates. There used to be a dozen or so All Saints, but now there are only five — the D4s, Mills, and Nora-May Yang, an American girl who’s quite new to the school. Annabelle and her cronies have driven everyone else off the squad. No wonder.

“So much for cheerleader solidarity,” I snap at Annabelle, even though I have no idea what a Full-up Liberty is. How dare she be cruel to Mills?

Annabelle wrinkles her nose. “Cheerleader
what
?”

“Look it up, Mensa-meltdown,” I say. “It means sticking together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Green,” Annabelle says with a scowl. “You’ll regret it.” She flounces off with her groupies tittering behind her before I get the chance to say anything else.

When I turn back to Mills, her face is pale and she looks a bit shaken. “Thanks for sticking up for me, Ames,” she says. “But you shouldn’t cross Annabelle at the moment. She’s been a nightmare since Hugo dumped her last week. Bailey said Hugo gave her the flick to concentrate on his game. Apparently she was a big distraction.” Hugo Hoffman is the captain of the school rugby team and Bailey plays left wing. One of the reasons that Mills likes being an All Saint is that she gets to cheer Bailey on when he’s playing.

“Being dumped for a rugby ball has got to hurt,” I say. “Is this what’s worrying you? Annabelle and the abominable All Saints? Why don’t you try something different instead? Basketball or cricket. And what on earth is a Full-up Liberty?”

Mills smiles. “It’s an American cheerleading stunt that Miss Mallard has adapted for our five-person squad. One girl is backstop. Then three girls — the base — lift another girl up in the air. The girl on top, me, is called the flier. I’m supposed to balance on one leg on their hands, giving a High V.”

“A High V?”

She demonstrates: head up, arms stretching into the air in a
V
shape, fists clenched. She actually looks impressive. Strong and majestic, like the Statue of Liberty.

“I’ve got really good balance,” she continues, “and I know I could nail it if Nina and Sophie kept steady. I wobbled and fell backward last week. It was lucky Miss Mallard caught me on the way down. I could have broken something. Annabelle is backstop, which means she’s supposed to stand behind the base and catch me if I fall. She must have taken her eyes off me. And I’m sure she told Nina and Sophie to unbalance the stunt.

“Annabelle’s determined to be flier instead of me. She’s been picking on me all week. I think she’s trying to get me to leave the squad. It’s not fair. I’m a much better cheerleader than she is, and I don’t want to give up now. I love the actual cheering and I really want to win Nationals. It’s all the politics that goes on behind the scenes that I hate.”

I smile. “I’m liking this sparky, competitive side, Mills. Who knew?”

“It’s not funny. I could have been seriously hurt last week.”

“Sorry, you’re right. So what are you going to do about it? You can’t let Annabelle win, but you can’t injure yourself either.”

She gives a noisy sigh. “I don’t know. Nora-May was the only one who stood up to Annabelle, and she had a bad landing after a Full-up Liberty a few weeks ago and sprained her ankle. She’s out of action for a while, so not only do I have to face the D4s alone but we’re also a girl down. Miss Mallard is looking for a replacement, but so far she hasn’t had any luck. It’s terrible timing. We have the trials for the Nationals in a few weeks. All that work for nothing.”

I think for a second, then ask, “How hard is a Full-up Liberty?”

“Honestly? Easy-peasy. Especially Nora-May’s bit. She just has to push me into the air with Nina and Sophie’s help. I reckon even Alex could do it if he was a bit taller.” Alex is my two-year-old brother.

Right, I know what I have to do. I take a deep breath and resign myself to my fate. “Mills, I’ll replace Nora-May,” I say, trying not to sound too gloomy about it. “As a feminist in training, cheerleading is against my religion. However, I’m prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for my best buddy.”

“Seriously? You’d really do that for me?”

“If it stops you breaking your neck and gets you through to Nationals, then, yes. But only until Nora-May’s ankle is better. Then I’ll happily give her back her slot.”

Mills squeals and jumps up and down on the spot. Then she gives me a hug. “You’re amazing, Ames, do you know that? You can come to training with me today after school. Miss Mallard will be thrilled I’ve found a replacement. But you know you’ll have to wear a flippy skirt and shake pom-poms, right?”

I bury my head in my hands. “Don’t mention the dreaded pom-poms.”

“What’s this about pom-poms?” Seth asks.

I peel my hands off my face and smile at him. He’s walking toward us with Bailey.

“Hi, Seth. How was math?” I ask.

He tips his head to one side. “Why are you trying to change the subject, Amy?”

“Might as well tell them. They’ll find out soon enough,” Mills says. “Boys, we have rather interesting news. Amy’s going to join the All Saints!”

“But you think cheerleading is ridiculous,” Seth says. Then he adds quickly, “Sorry, Mills.”

Mills smiles. “That’s OK. I know she thinks it’s silly — which is why she’s the most incredible friend in the whole entire universe!”

“I’m joining only to protect Mills from the other pom-pom poodles.” I explain to Seth and Bailey what’s been happening at cheerleading practice.

Bailey’s face darkens. “You should have said something, Mills,” he says, brushing Mills’s hair back off her face so that he can see into her eyes.

After giving Mills a hug, Bailey presses his forehead gently against hers. He whispers something in her ear and she smiles. They’re locked in their own little world while Seth and I stand beside them awkwardly.

We’re not like Mills and Bailey, you see. We don’t hold hands walking down the school corridor. We don’t have to sit beside each other in shared classes. We don’t finish each other’s sentences or text each other incessantly. And we don’t spend every waking minute with each other.

Bailey often goes back to Mills’s house after school for dinner. His dad, Finn Hunter — yes,
that
Finn Hunter, the celebrity chef — is away a lot. His grampa, Mac, is a chef too (but not a celebrity one) and so works evenings. They all live together in Mac’s house in Bray. It is a bit of an unusual arrangement, as Finn is not Mac’s son, but Bailey seems to love it. Mills goes around there a lot too. Way more than I go to Seth’s house.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Seth — he’s amazing — but I think seeing him all the time would be suffocating. I’m more like Clover than Mills, in that I need my space. Clover adores her rock-star boyfriend, Brains, but is also happy to fly solo, which is just as well, as he’s away touring a lot.

I think giving each other space suits Seth too. He and Polly, his mum, spend a lot of time together. There’s only the two of them, and they’re pretty close. Polly was really sick last year — she had breast cancer — and for a while Seth was really scared he was going to lose her. She’s better now, thank goodness. She’s back working too. She’s a photographer, and Seth goes on jobs with her sometimes to help with the equipment, which is actually pretty heavy.

Yet, despite all this, as I watch Mills and Bailey, sealed in their own little bubble of love, something claws at the pit of my stomach. They start kissing and my shoulders tense up and my hands screw into balls.
You’re jealous, Amy
, a little voice inside my head tells me.
Admit it!

“Amy?” Seth pulls at my arm. “Why are you staring at Mills and Bailey with that weird look on your face? You’ve got to be used to their PDAs by now, surely?”

“Sorry, I was miles away. In cheerleading land.” I give a theatrical groan.

“Having second thoughts?” he asks. “It’s not too late to back down.”

“Mills is no match for Annabelle Hamilton, Seth, you know that. The orange-faced one will chew her up and spit her out. Mills needs me, if only to catch her when she falls. And from what Mills was saying about the All Saints’ shenanigans, I may mean that literally.”

Seth smiles at me. “Which is why you’re worth millions of a girl like Hammy Hamilton.” It’s his nickname for her. He blows his cheeks out like a hamster, making me laugh. “But let’s forget about the D4s. They’re not worth our time. Hockey-pitch steps? I have some new tunes on my iPod. Want a listen?”

“
Absolument
. Anything to stop me thinking about the pom-poms.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Seth says loudly to Mills and Bailey, who are still stuck to each other like limpets. “Stop smooching. We’re out of here.”

I wait for Seth to take my hand or put his arm around my shoulders, but he doesn’t, and we walk toward the steps side by side, bumping shoulders like old friends.

“What do you think you’re doing here, Green?” Annabelle is standing at the entrance to the girls’ changing rooms, blocking my way in. Her fellow D4 nasties, Sophie Piggott and Nina Pickering, are just behind her in the doorway. They’re already in their flippy blue All Saints skirts and matching white-and-blue fitted tops. Mills is in the gym, helping Miss Mallard put out the mats. The cheerleaders do their stunts inside to avoid injury. They’re not allowed to do them at the rugby games, in case one of them falls. The stunts are just for cheerleading competitions. Which doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

After Mills told her I wanted to join the squad, Miss Mallard gave me a very hearty slap on the back and said, “Well done, Amy. Thank you for stepping up to the plate for the school. I admire girls with a bit of spirit.”

When she’d handed me the uniform, I’d been surprised to find there were no pom-poms. I asked why, but Mills nudged me with her shoulder and laughed. “She’s only joking, miss.”

That was news to me, and I felt a bit silly, but I said nothing, just pressed my foot against Mills’s. Once Miss Mallard had walked away, I turned on Mills. “You told me I’d have to shake pom-poms,” I said a little crossly.

“I know, and you
still
agreed to do it! Miss Mallard banned them ages ago, though. Said they restricted our arm motions and made us look ridiculous. Annabelle was furious. She was very attached to her pom-poms. And if you’d actually bothered to come and watch me cheer, you would have known that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” I said sheepishly. Mills is right. I should have supported her better before. At least I’m doing the right thing now, although I’m not exactly over the moon at the prospect of joining the All Saints, and I’m seriously not in the mood for Annabelle’s nonsense. Once upon a time I was nervous around her. Like most girls in our year, I was afraid she’d turn on me and rip me apart with her vicious mouth, but recently something inside me snapped. I’m just not prepared to kowtow to her anymore. Someone has to stand up to her or she’ll boss and bully her way through the next five years of school, steamrollering over anyone who gets in her way, and that’s not a pleasant thought.