The Cheerleader's Guide to Roller Derby

Chapter Fifteen: Fact Checked and Verified

Everyone knows that you should never pop a pimple, no matter how tempting it might be. The correct thing to do is to choose the appropriate product, apply it liberally, then give it time to work. So why did I decide to squeeze the gigantic pustule that was holding reign over my face? And why did I pick that moment, in the bathroom at the mall, when I was supposed to be meeting with the cheer squad in the food court?

I blame it on stress.

For whatever reason, I squoze. Or is that squeezed? And the results turned out the way they always do -- a molten lump of lava-red skin with a ragged hole in the middle that putrid gunk seeped out of. I'd just stepped into a stall to gather a supply of toilet paper for repairs, when the door to the restroom opened.

"I thought you said she was going to meet us at 6:30."

"That's what her text said."

If that was Cassidy speaking to Traci, then yes, I had said that. I pulled my phone out and took a glance. It was 6:36. Cut a girl some slack?

"Where'd she have to go this time?"

"I hope it was the dermatologist. Did you see that third eye she's growing on her forehead?"

"Lol. It's like she just doesn't care about anything important any more. When's the last time she came to a party with us? And today ... she ate potato chips at lunch. Can you believe it?"

"That's not the only weird thing going on with her."

I heard the whoosh of the door opening again then, "Ooh, who?" from someone new. Kayleigh maybe?

"Chantal."

"Pssshhh. Guess who someone saw her with the other day?"

"Who?" the other girls said in unison.

"Todd."

"Emerson?"

"King Dork himself."

"But that's not the best part."

"Tell."

"They were under the first floor staircase at school."

"Make Out Central?"

"No freaking way."

"It's been fact-checked and verified."

Never mind that Traci knew why I was talking to Todd. I couldn't believe Kayleigh, of all people, was bringing it up. Until she made the cheerleading squad a few months ago, she was on the periphery of Todd's group of nerd outcasts. WTF?

"I don't know, guys," the girl who sounded like Cassidy was saying. "If she's going to go geek, she could do a lot worse. I think he's kind of cute."

Todd Emerson was NOT cute. And if he knew Cassidy Anderson thought that he was, he'd probably barf all over his calculator. Maybe. There's really no way to tell with boys. There's no way to tell with girls either. I mean, sure, maybe you can count on them to provide under eye cream but as soon as they don't think you can hear what they're saying ... ugh.

Empathize that, Ms. Hernandez! I wanted to shout. But, you know, I couldn't actually shout anything. Or whisper it either. Not until my "friends" left the restroom. And not even then. Not really.

While I waited for Cassidy to fix her hair and Traci to put another coat of gloss on her lips, I thought about what Ms. Hernandez might suggest in a situation like this. She'd probably want me to confront them, use my "I" words, all that psychological gobbledy-gook.

I imagined it, pulling myself taller, leaving my arms at my side, pushing some of the emotion out of the equation, looking Kayleigh in the eye and saying ... what? That I didn't like it when she talked about me behind my back? Like that would work. Talking about people, behind their backs -- or to their faces for that matter, was an art form with those girls. They were proud of it.