Revenge of the Cheerleaders

  We picked up our books and left the room. While we walked in the hallway, Molly and Polly kept two paces ahead of us, talking together and glancing back at us.

  "Remember," I whispered to Samantha, "we're supposed to give them some pointers about fitting in here."

  We reached the library door and Molly and Polly stopped to face us. "Look, you can be in our group," Molly said. "But we're doing the report on space flight, and we're not letting you cheat off of us." Then they pushed the library doors open and walked in.

  We stood there in the hallway staring after them. "Well," Samantha finally said. "I just thought of their first pointer for fitting in."

  I folded my arms. "Because we're cheerleaders we're automatically cheaters?"

  "Shhh," Samantha said. "You don't want to give Rick any more song ideas."

  We walked into the library, put our books on a table with Molly's and Polly's, then went and found books on space exploration, all of which, I'd like to point out, looked so boring they could be officially classified as sleep aids. We took notes, and in between jotting down things about Sputnik and Neil Armstrong I tried to make small talk with our new study partners. At first they answered all of my questions coldly, like they were just waiting for me to be rude, but after fifteen minutes they loosened up.

  Molly kept saying snarky asides that made me laugh. "If they can put a man on the moon, why can't they put them all there?" And, "Well, of course the Soviets made it to space first. They were Russian."

  She was as bitingly funny as Polly was tenderhearted. Polly kept ohhhing and ahhhing over the pictures of Laika the first astronaut dog.

  And yes, in case you didn't know, they really did send a dog orbiting around the earth. Or as Molly pointed out, not only the Russians, but the canines, beat us into space.

  When class was nearly over, I said, "Some of us are getting together to go to the movies this weekend. Do you want to come?"

  "Who are 'us'?" Molly asked.

  " I 'm not sure about everyone who's going," I said, because I'd just planned this off the top of my head and hadn't actually asked anyone. "Samantha and I—"

  "And Logan," Samantha said.

  "Right, and Logan . . . Aubrie, Rachel—whoever Rachel is currently stringing along in her football harem—"

  "Sorry," Polly said. "We don't . . . um . . ." She glanced at her sister.

  "Go anywhere near football players unless we're forced to by teachers or natural disasters," Molly finished.

  Polly leaned over to her sister. "Not all the football players are bad."

  Molly rolled her eyes, then turned her attention back to me. "Is Joe Diaz going to be there?"

  Joe was a wide receiver, and not a bad one at that, although it was his twin brother, Garret, who got the most attention on the team. Garret was the quarterback. Plus, Garret had this tall-dark-and-handsome thing going for him. Joe and Garret weren't identical twins though, and Joe, well, Joe was just tall and dark.

  "I could invite him if you wanted," I volunteered.

  "No," Polly said quickly. "No, that would be awkward. If he wanted to talk to me again he would have by now."

  "Again?" Samantha asked. Her voice had a tell-me-more lilt to it.

  When Polly didn't volunteer any more information, Molly leaned forward, conspiratorially. "They once had a ten-minute conversation in English about why being a twin is the pits."

  "It was nothing personal," Polly told her sister.

  "Yeah, I'll remember that if you ever need a kidney," Molly said.

  I shrugged at Polly. "Maybe he just needs an opportunity to talk to you again. Why don't you come with us to the movies, and I'll invite some of the guys—"

  "No, I can't." Polly held up both hands to stop me. "I get nosebleeds when I'm nervous. Really bad. In my last school they called me A+ Polly—and they weren't talking about my grade point average. This school is already bad enough. I don't need any more nicknames."

  Samantha said, "You shouldn't let a few names stop you from doing what you want."

  "You just need some confidence," I said. "Hanging out with friends is nothing to get nervous about."

  You would have thought I'd just told Polly to fly. She looked at me in total disbelief. "No offense, but it's easy for you to have confidence. You're both . . ." She waved a hand in our general direction. "Cheerleaders. You don't know what it means to have people make fun of you."

  Which made me laugh out loud. "We don't just have nicknames," I said. "We've got an entire CD dedicated to us." Molly shook her head. "Yeah, but those songs are about how cheerleaders think they're better than everyone else. In the long run they'll probably just make you more attractive to high school guys. No one has ever accused us of thinking we're better than everyone else. How do you get that gig?"

  I guess it was the fashion designer in me, but without thinking I said, "If you lost the sweatshirts and stood up straight every once in a while you'd find out."

  "What?" Polly said.

  Samantha put her hand over her face. She'd heard me give enough critiques that she knew where I was going with this.

  "Those sweats aren't slimming. They actually add bulk. You need to get some shirts that taper in at the waist. Also your hair doesn't add anything when you just pull it back like that. Hair should frame your face, give it some lift and balance. Your hair isn't doing its job."

  Molly and Polly both stared at me with their mouths slightly ajar. Since they weren't talking I figured I'd just finish off my critique. "And a good makeover would help. You're in high school. It's okay to wear makeup."

  Molly let out a grunt. "You think a makeover would change anything? We slap on some mascara and suddenly guys stop calling us names and ask for our phone number?"

  I said, "If I slouched around in sweats and didn't do my hair or makeup, I wouldn't be dating anyone—well, okay, actually I'm not dating anyone, but you know what I mean." I sat back in my chair and surveyed them. "Why don't you let Samantha and me do makeovers on you? We could go clothes shopping too. It would be fun."

  Samantha snapped her fingers while she thought. "I bet we could get them in at the salon with Dotti." To the twins she said, "That woman can work miracles with highlights and a haircut."

  "Wait a minute." Molly held up one hand. "Suddenly we're talking scissors?"

  I nodded. "And you ought to consider contacts. You have really pretty eyes."

  Polly touched the frames of her glasses and looked back at me wistfully. "You honestly think so?"

  Molly elbowed her sister before I could answer. "Contacts are little pieces of plastic that people shove into their eyes. Hello, that won't feel good."

  "Doing a makeover would be lots of fun," Samantha said. "Chelsea's really good at picking out clothes."

  Molly and Polly glanced at each other again. It made me wonder if all those stories about twins and telepathy were true because I could almost see the communication passing between them. Polly teetered on the edge of indecision, but Molly stood firm. She said, "It won't make a difference, and if we let them start changing things now, they'll do something awful like rip out half our eyebrows."

  I nodded. "You do need a wax j ob on your eyebrows, yes."

  "See," Molly said. "And when it's all said and done nothing will change except my eyebrows will be sore for a week."

  And people on TV always seem so excited and grateful when someone offers them a makeover. How was it that I'd run into the two people on the planet who didn't want one? "If I can prove that makeovers make a difference, will you agree to have one?" I asked.

  The class bell rung. Everyone around us gathered up their books but none of us moved. "Well?" I asked.

  Molly looked at me doubtfully. "How are you going to prove it?"

  "Meet Samantha and me after school and we'll run an experiment," I said.

  As we went to our next class, I explained the experiment to Samantha. Then she explained why she didn't want to be my friend anymore, but I knew she was just kidding.


  After school I waited for everyone by Samantha's car. Samantha and Logan were the first to appear. Logan kept shaking his head as he walked up. "I leave you alone for one night and you join a rock group," he told Samantha. "Now we're apart for a few hours and you're running experiments on how to pick up guys?"

  "Well, yeah," she said, "but you don't have to worry because I'm going to be the ugly one who doesn't get picked up."

  "It's all in the name of science," I added.

  Logan glared at me, then returned his attention to Samantha. "How are you making yourself ugly?"

  " I 'm going to take all of my makeup off, pull my hair back, wear your sweatshirt, and borrow some glasses."

  "And that's going to do it?" he said. "That's your secret ugly disguise?"

  "Right," she said.

  He shook his head. "I've seen you without makeup and with your hair pulled back. I hate to break this to you, but a sweatshirt and a pair of glasses are not going to make you ugly."

  Samantha took a step closer to him and a smile slid across her face. "You're so sweet."

  He looked like he was about to kiss her, which frankly I see enough of and which I shouldn't have to endure because I have no boyfriend. I made shooing motions in his direction. "Yes, it's wonderful that love is blind, but stop trying to ruin my experiment. She's supposed to be acting self-conscious and insecure, not radiant."

  Logan didn't kiss Samantha, but he did take hold of her hand. "Where are you running this experiment? I may want to stop by and pick you up."

  "Campus," I said. "Northside Marketplace."

  Logan's head snapped up. "You're going to pick up college guys?"

  "Well, we can't very well pick up high school guys," I said. "Everyone at PHS knows who we are."

  "Then go to Moscow," he said. "College guys only want one thing from girls, and I'm not talking about the answers to tomorrow's homework."

  I scanned the parking lot for the Patterson twins but didn't see them. "It's just easier and faster to go to campus. But don't worry. Samantha isn't going to pick up anyone, and I'm giving out a fake name. For the experiment, I'm Juliet."

  Logan shook his head some more, looked at me like I was crazy, then gave Samantha's hand a squeeze. "Give me a call when you're done not picking up men." He bent down and gave her a kiss which I pretended not to see, then left for his own car. Samantha watched him go with a sigh.

  "Oh, stop being radiant," I told her. "You'll mess up my experiment."

  She didn't stop though. She stood there smiling until Molly and Polly walked up. As we drove to campus, I turned around in my seat and explained the whole premise to the twins.

  "Samantha generally attracts a lot of attention from guys," I said. "And do you know why that is?"

  "Because she looks like a Barbie doll?" Polly asked.

  "No," I said, "because she takes care of herself. She dresses nicely, does her hair and makeup, and has an air of confidence about her. She walks with good posture, and looks up and smiles at the world. People can tell she feels good about who she is."

  "And she looks like a Barbie doll," Molly said.

  "I don't look like a Barbie doll," Samantha said.

  "Anyway," I went on, "if you don't project that image, you don't earn the respect of the male species. Men are like birds that way. They're both attracted to shiny things. And to prove this point, we're going to set Samantha at a table without all of those things we just talked about. You'll see that the guys don't give her a second glance." Molly stared back at me skeptically. I could tell she didn't believe me but I continued with my explanation.

  "After a few minutes I'm going to sit down a little ways away from Samantha. I have my makeup on, my hair done, and I'm wearing a nice outfit. I'm going to look up and smile at people, projecting an image of self-confidence. We'll see how long it takes until someone sits down and starts up a conversation with me."

  Samantha pulled into a parking lot and turned off the car. "And if Chelsea proves her point, you two agree to have makeovers, okay?"

  "Okay," Polly said, then shot her sister a look. "Well, you said you'd do it if she could prove her point."

  Molly grunted and opened her car door. "It's not going to work. The reason the guys at high school are mean to us has nothing to do with what we wear or how confident we look. They're mean because they're jerks. I'll watch your experiment, but if it doesn't go how you say it will, then PHS is made up of a bunch of troglodytes, and you should agree to shun every guy who's ever called us Roly or Poly." Molly held out her hand. "Agreed?"

  Samantha shook her hand. "Agreed." Which just goes to show Samantha had no idea how many people at PHS had said the words Roly and Poly while describing the Patterson twins. If we lost, we would no longer be mingling with a large segment of the football team.

  We walked across the parking lot and onto campus, past streams of students and ancient brick buildings. Samantha slipped Logan's sweatshirt over her top as we walked. "Now, since Chelsea isn't really trying to pick up anyone, you guys will need to go rescue her about a minute after anyone sits down next to her. Just walk up and say, 'Hey Juliet, are you going to English class? We don't want to be late.' Then she'll excuse herself, and we'll all head back to the car." Samantha shot me a firm look. "Right?"

  "Right," I said.

  She nodded knowingly. "Just don't revise the plan if the guy who happens to sit down next to you is cute, okay? I mean I know you're on the lookout for a new guy and that since things went south with Mike it might be tempting to receive attention from some college hottie, but the last thing you need is a twenty-two-year-old grad student hitting on you."

  "Don't worry," I said.

  Samantha nudged Molly and in a lower voice said, "If it's a cute guy, Chelsea will last approximately two minutes before she gives out her name, phone number, and e-mail address. In that case, you'll have to go in for an intervention and pull her out for her own good."

  "Okay," Molly said.

  "I am not that bad," I said.

  In a voice that was meant to appease me, Samantha said, "Right. And you don't want to make the rest of us sit around on campus while you flirt with some new conquest."

  I rolled my eyes at her, because really, I'm not like that.

  I turned to Polly when the Northside Marketplace was in sight. "When we get there, Samantha will need to wear your glasses."

  Polly touched her frames tentatively. "But I can't see without them."

  "It's part of Samantha's outfit. If you wear them, so should she."

  Polly grumbled about this and Molly said it was going to be the blonde leading the blind, but in the end Polly handed them over to Samantha. "Oh all right, Molly will just have to tell me what's happening since it will all be blurry to me."

  We walked inside the Northside Marketplace, then Molly and Polly sauntered into the dining room to do reconnaissance while Samantha and I went into the restroom. Samantha went in to wash off all of her makeup and pull her hair back. I went to touch up mine and give Samantha last-minute instructions.

  "This whole theory will be blown if some guy sits next to you, so try to look extra repulsive. You know, if anyone comes too near, start spitting or something."

  Samantha splashed water from the sink onto her face and didn't answer me.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. "And what will we do if no one sits down by me? I mean, it's possible that every guy who comes by will already be seeing someone, or shy, or just not interested." My hands nearly shook as I applied my lip gloss. "I should have made you be the pretty one. You're better at flirting."

  "Which is why I already have a boyfriend." Samantha patted off her face with paper towels and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. Uneven strands hung out over one ear. v"Come on, Juliet. You already look irresistible and the sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave."

  We left the restroom and she walked toward the restaurant entrance. "Remember to slouch." I called after her. "Don't make eye contact. The world is an aw
ful, gloomy place!"

  She didn't look back at me, but several other students did. I slid back into the doorway of the bathroom so they'd all stop staring at me.

  After a couple of minutes, I went into the dining room to keep track of Samantha's progress. As I stood in line to order a soda, she slunk off to the tables, looking at the floor, although this might have been because it was hard to see while wearing someone else's glasses. She held out one hand as though perpetually ready to catch herself.

  No one paid attention to her as she walked over to a chair. A few people noticed her as she misjudged the distance of the chair and stumbled onto it. Even more people noticed as she grabbed her shin and did this sort of hopping step while repeating, "Youch!"

  But no guys walked up, so it was all good.

  Finally she took her seat.

  A few tables over, Molly shook her head. Polly just squinted in Samantha's direction.

  Samantha kept leaning down with her face nearly pressed against the table as she rubbed her shin. It was not an attractive look.

  Good strategy. I was wrong to ever doubt Samantha's abilities to look like a loser.

  The guy at the counter gave me my soda. I took a deep breath, held my shoulders erect, and strolled across the dining room. I put a bounce in my step as I walked to an empty table. Smiling at anyone in the vicinity, I sat down, and leaned back in my chair.

  My heart was beating too fast. Would people be able to sense that?

  The table felt colder, looked bigger than I'd expected. And emptier too. A minute passed. No one even noticed me as they walked by. Another minute wound around my watch.

  It was a stupid experiment, I realized, because I had forgotten the cardinal rule of the pick up. Guys never tried to pick you up when you wanted them to. No, when you were between boyfriends and desperate, they stayed away from you like you were wearing man repellent. It was when you didn't want it and weren't expecting it that they popped up to flirt with you.

  Which meant despite all our manipulations, Samantha would get the guy, Molly and Polly wouldn't get makeovers, and Mr. Metzerol wouldn't think I was helping them. Rick would win the audition, and I'd have to explain to half the senior class why I was shunning them. Then again, after Rick won the audition spot maybe everyone would naturally shun me.