The Cheerleader's Guide to Roller Derby

Chapter Twenty Six: Feisty

If you'd laid out the scenario for me ahead of time, I would have sworn I'd die of embarrassment before the end of fifth period, but getting through the rest of the school day wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I mean, sure, a few of the guys smirked and some girls I didn't really know elbowed each other when I walked past them. Overall though, there was so little reaction that by the end of German class my thoughts had morphed from shame, to anger, to perplexion.

What prompted R.J. to confront me that day, I wondered? Weeks had gone by since I'd almost vomited on him in that dark room, with his hands in my pants. He'd never apologized, certainly, but he'd also not uttered a single word about it since then. I'd almost gotten to the point where I believed he must have been as drunk as I was that night, that he didn't even remember.

Clearly that wasn't the case. But why bring it up now? I tried to remember his exact words, something about "starting" something, but what? There was something about "you cheerleaders" too. Had one of the other girls said something to him? Cassidy maybe? Felicity? She'd sure been acting weird lately.

Or maybe it was Traci, when she "auditioned" to be R.J.'s prom date? I was still pondering the whole thing as I walked through the halls to my next class. I hadn't realized that R.J. had fallen into step beside me until he nudged me in the ribs.

"Cute stunt in the lunchroom," he said. He leaned against me as we walked, forcing me across the hall to Make Out Central beneath the stairwell. After kicking out a couple of sophomores who were in the midst of some serious tongue wrangling, he said, "Did I ever tell you how much I like feisty girls?"

He smiled at me like I was supposed to be grateful for the compliment. Whatever. I considered stomping away then but, honestly? I was just too curious about the whole situation to leave. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for more.

"So. Two things," he said. "First, I think I may have underestimated you." Before I could confirm that, he spoke again. "And second, I hear you don't have a date for the prom."

He was right on both counts. Once again I was reminded that I really needed to do something about that soon. Now that I had a dress picked out, narrowing down the boy would be easier. I mentally checked a couple of them off of my list. Their complexions, or the color of their hair, would be a poor match against the orange of the gown. Tall was still a priority. I hadn't tried the oh-so-high shoes with the dress yet, but the rhinestone heels seemed a perfect match for the dress' jeweled belt. And flowers. That could be tricky. Mom's florist was amazing but he might need time for a special order ....

"So?" R.J. was saying.

So what? What did this jerk care about who I allowed to escort me to the dance? Unless ... "Are you ... asking me to prom?"

"That depends," he said.

This was getting stranger and stranger. "On what?" I asked, shaking my head.

"On whether or not you can keep your mouth shut."

Why he thought I was going to speak up after so much time had passed was still a mystery to me, but why he thought I'd want to ... to ... "Let me get this straight. You're offering me a deal? If I don't rat you out about trying to ... to ... you know ... when I was passed out drunk, then you will lower your standards and take me to prom?"

"Something like that, yeah. But I also need you to -- "

"Spare me the details. I can answer you right now. There is no effing way that I would go with you to prom. "

There it was again, that fake smile that could have won him our school's theater award. "Is that your final answer?" he said, oh-so casually, like he was asking me if I preferred a latte over vanilla chai.

"Not if you were the last boy on Earth. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not the kind of girl who needs a pity date. And besides that -- "

He held up a hand to stop me. "I guess we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

Then he winked.

Oh, we'd see. We'd see alright. With that thought in mind, I gave him what, in derby terms, would definitely be an illegal move. I used both hands to shove him out of my way, and took off down the hall.

"Feisty," he called behind me. "Just like I like 'em."

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