Short Stories

The Mascot & The Quarterback

Best friends have a tendency to cause problems.

That is the only theory I could think of at the moment. I mean, why else would a mob of overly peppy cheerleaders over-run my home on a Thursday night? Exactly. There is no other reason.

Therefore, my theory is completely and entirely justified.

It started off just like any other Thursday night. I came home from cross-country practice, took an extremely long shower, ate dinner with my family, watched my incredibly hot neighbor/friend, Matt, work out in his backyard through my window, and started my much-procrastinated homework.

It was when I broke out my Anatomy binder that the doorbell rang. I didn't think much of it—expecting my older sister coming home late or maybe a delivery—but boy, was I wrong. After causally jogging down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, I opened the door to find none other than my best friend, Hailey, along with the rest of the West Valley High cheerleading squad standing on my doorstep.

Too say I was surprised would have been the understatement of the century. Noticing Hailey's red-rimmed puffy eyes, I immediately invited her in. What else was a best friend supposed to do?

Ten minutes later, my room was over-flowing with pom-poms and a few crying cheerleaders. Honestly, I didn't even know what to do. Or say, for that matter. I couldn't just come out and offer them makeup remover to wash away the streaks of running mascara streaming down their faces.

Or, could I?

Fortunately, there wasn't much I had to say because the minute Hailey closed my bedroom door she opened her mouth.

Then, I became Doctor Phil.

"Izzy!" She cried out, throwing her arms dramatically into the air. "I don't know what I am going to do! It is all such a giant disaster. This can't be happening to me. Not now. The game is tomorrow night! What the hell am I supposed to do?"

She was pacing, running a hand through her red locks, and speaking profanities under breath.

"Calm down, Hailey." I spoke, trying to comfort her. "I don't even know what you are talking about. Why don't you slow down and start from the beginning."

"Slow down! I can't slow down! The game is tomorrow, Isabelle!"

I raised my hands up in front of me, surrendering to her lunatic woman antics. "Whoa, I am sorry, Hails, but, I can't help you if I don't know what you are talking about."

Hailey took a deep—much needed—breath and spoke. "Chris Martin sprained his ankle in practice today! He sprained his fucking ankle! How could he do this to me? The homecoming game istomorrow!"

I snorted. I couldn't help it.

"You mean the mascot? I don't think anyone will notice if Chris isn't at the game tomorrow, Hailey. Now, please just calm down—"

"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!"

It is official. The girl has lost it. She had officially gone crazy.

Hailey let out a sniffle and collapsed on the bed behind her. The two cheerleaders who had previously occupied its comfy glory quickly moved, afraid to face their captain's crazy antics. I didn't blame them.

I slowly sat down on the bed next to her, gently pulling her by the arm to sit up in a right position. Hailey rested her head on my shoulder, sniffling.

"I am sorry for freaking out. I just-I have worked so hard to make this routine perfect for the game and we can't do it without a mascot."

I rubbed circles on her back in a continuous motion, calming her down further. When her breathing had returned to its normal pattern, I turned to her with a reassuring smile.