Song of a Sophomore

CHAPTER 22 - Boom Boom Boom

I stop at the locker room to drop off my gym bag and touch up my make-up . A quick confidence check is in order before the I brave a sea of hundreds of unfamiliar faces at the pep rally. Just before I round the corner and enter the changing area, Katelyn's whiny voice stops me in my tracks. I listen, just out of sight.

"So, I was making fun of her and he said—get this—I should cut her some slack. He said she's as cute as the rest of us!" 

"Oh. My. God!" Bethany says, "Are you pissed?"

"Hello?! My boyfriend pointing out cute girls to me? Especially some chubby girl who sits with those band dorks?"

"I'm sure he meant it in a pitiful way," Bethany coos. "Like, 'Look at the poor, dorky girl. She's got on a cheerleader uniform. How cute.' Kind of like if you saw a dog walking with a missing leg or an old lady sweeping the floors at McDonalds."

My jaw drops. If I wasn't so terrified of Bethany, I would say walk in and say something but eavesdropping is a safer option.

"We better stop talking about it," Katelyn says.

"Yeah, the loser's bound to come in any minute."

The door behind me bursts open and Tiffany, the flyer from my stunt group, appears in a mad dash. I step out of her way before she runs me over, and follow her into the lions' den.

Cold silence greets me as I pass Bethany, Katelyn and their gang of enablers. The girls' eyes bore into me with such intensity, I bolt straight for the refuge of the restroom, hopeful the wall between us will ease my anxiety. Studying my complexion in the mirror, I dab on pressed powder, apricot blush, and my new brick red lipstick for a pop of color. I fluff my ponytail and re-tie the red satin bow. 

Then, it hits me. I look like a real cheerleader, even to Zach Ashburn.

Without warning, a primal wail breaks the stillness of the restroom followed by an awful retching sound. I wince and turn to notice a pair of white cheerleading shoes peeking out from under the last stall. The door is open.

"Are you okay?" I gasp.

Tiffany Hanson is doubled over in agony holding her right side. "It hurts! It really hurts." 

"Take a deep breath." I reach out to hold back strands of her short black hanging into her face. Tiffany's forehead is hot as a furnace. "You've got a fever."

"Uh, huh." Tiffany grunts.

"And the pain is on your right side?"

"Yeah, it started last night and it's getting worse." She groans.

"We need to get you to a doctor. Stay where you are. I'm going to go get help."

I flee the restroom and find Coach Roberts in the small office adjacent to the locker room, doing my best to quickly explain the situation. 

She alerts another P.E. teacher to call for help. "Dial 911 and tell them it could be a burst appendix."

We jog to the restroom and don't leave Tiffany's side until the paramedics arrive. When they load her onto a stretcher and whisk her away to a waiting ambulance, only five minutes remain until the start of our first pep rally. All the time we have to stretch and rehearse is gone.

Roberts calls the squad into a huddle. "The doctors are going to take care of Tiffany, so don't worry about her. She's in good hands. The show must go on."