Chapter 19

That day was an assembly day schedule—for the pep rally. Dana wasn’t sure if she was glad classes were over early or annoyed she’d lost ten minutes of history test answer time. Possibly both.

The pep rally itself went well, though between the overcranked PA, an enthusiastic band, and loud students, Dana could barely hear a thing, which dampened her enthusiasm. She nearly missed her cue, when Lipinski introduced the team. She did have fun watching the cheerleaders bounce—and fun watching them try to keep time as the band sped up the tempo.

Best of all, when it was over, in the mad cram at the doors, Dana ended up next to Nikki. This was not entirely by coincidence—when the squad finished up next to the girls’ team, Dana took shameless advantage of the crush to stand crowded among them—but she felt lucky to end up next to her favorite.

“Let me guess,” Nikki said, “you can see over everyone to the door.”

Dana glanced down at her, nearly hidden in the crowd. “Yeah, but that means everyone can see me.”

“So you have to behave, eh?” Nikki smiled up at her.

“Want to improve your morals?” Dana said in a perky announcer’s voice. “Need to grow a second conscience? Try Do Right^TM pituitary extract. It’ll grow you right!”

Nikki laughed and gave her a sharp poke in the kidney. “Just for that, you get to run interference for me.”

Dana wanted to tickle her in return for that poke, but as Nikki said, she had to behave—at least until they were in private. She glanced around, looking for where the flow was strongest, and—well, look at that.

The end of the bleachers was open. The other end was by the locker room door—they could cut through from there to the hall. Ha! Dana caught Nikki’s hand and started tacking against the crowd current. Half a minute later, she ducked under the wooden seats, and only then realized—the only straight corridor through the struts, against the wall, was too narrow for her to slip through. She’d have to weave through them, which wasn’t quite as quick as she’d thought. Worse, she had to let go of Nikki’s hand.

“Okay,” Nikki said as slipped past, small enough to take the clear passage, “good thinking.”

“Sometimes it takes a fresh eye to see things,” Dana said dryly as she swung around a pole.

“Then why isn’t anyone following us?”

Something tugged sole of Dana’s shoe, and she stopped. “Maybe because of the gum.” She lifted her foot, pulling up pink strings.

Nikki chuckled, that lovely deep sound. “And sometimes the locals see just fine.”

They looked at each other. In the semi-dark, Dana wondered how many kids had made out under these bleachers. But—she glanced back—not now, when so many could see. “In this town, I sometimes wonder,” she said.

Nikki cocked her head.

Dana swallowed. “Well, I mean—why are cheerleaders bi, here?”

“Beats me,” Nikki said. “Maybe it’s something in the water. When I left, I was too young to notice, and when I came back it was, like, just something everyone knew.”

“It’s ... all very strange.”

“Though not,” Nikki said with a smile, “as odd as what they say about you.”

“Me?”

“That you’re not gay—you just like cheerleaders. Where’d they get that idea, anyway?”

“Um.” Dana wasn’t sure whether to blame Tina, Heather, or herself. Or all three. “That story has kinda gotten out of control,” Dana admitted.

Nikki blinked. “You started it?”

“For once in my life, I forget I’m a giant, and what happens? I become larger than life.” She ducked under a strut.

“You’re not a giant,” Nikki protested.

Dana sighed. “Sometimes I feel like it.” She thought of the chairs in the main office.

“I like your size. It’s very ... you.”

“Thank you,” Dana said. “I think.”

“Okay, so it sometimes it’s a little awkward.”

Dana looked at Nikki’s mouth. Nikki bit her lower lip, realizing what Dana was reminded of. Before they could do anything, however, the bell rang—reminding them of where they were and where they were going.

Nikki continued towards the locker room.

Dana followed her, swinging around the dusty bars. “Watch your step.”

“That, I think, is always good advice,” Nikki said. “Especially around you.”

Dana bit her lip.

They reached the locker room without further gum incidents. As they walked through the empty gray cavern, Dana said, “So, tonight?”

Nikki glanced at her. “Oh, after? Yes. Very much so.”

Dana smiled, imagining Nikki in her front seat. Then she remembered, and stopped short. “Oh. Damn.”

“What?”

“My car died this morning. Um.”

“Oh, is that all? You had me worried there.”

“Sorry.” What had Nikki thought?

“I can drive. Well,” Nikki corrected herself, “I can probably borrow a car tonight. In fact,” she looked at Dana speculatively, “driving you home makes a good excuse for staying out late.”

Needing an excuse annoyed Dana, but she quickly controlled it—she was not starting that argument again. She nodded. “That works.”

“Wait—how are you getting home now?” Nikki looked at her sharply.

“Uh, bus?” Dana said hesitantly.

Wrong answer. “I ride with Heather. You can catch a lift—she usually has a seat free.”

“Sure?”

Nikki grinned. Dana found herself grinning back.

Dad drove Dana back to school for the pregame warm-up—he’d gotten her car to the shop, where the mechanic said it’d be Monday for the part—then went back for the others.

As she changed, instead of focusing on the game, Dana thought about her teammates and the cheerleaders, and needing to play as a team, and trust. About apologies, and courage. When she finished tying her shoes, she stood and went to Sue-Ellen.

“I just wanted,” she said quietly, “to say I’m sorry about the way the cheerleaders and I have been acting. It won’t happen—” Dana grimaced. “Well, I can’t promise what they will do. I’ll try to keep it from happening again.”

Sue-Ellen looked at her, then away. After a moment, she nodded, still not meeting Dana’s eyes. Dana nodded back. It would have to do.

Dana went to Tawnia and then Lucella, her other teammates most bothered by the cheerleaders, and said the same. Tawnia acknowledged it with a thin-lipped smile and a tight, “Good.” Lucella looked offended.

The game started well—with Dana starting for the first time. Lipinski kept her on the floor long enough she led the team in rebounds and assists, and almost in scoring as well. It was a high-scoring game, with neither team able to stop the other from driving the net. Dana couldn’t keep the girl she covered from slipping around her, any more than her shorter opponent could keep Dana from going over her. The lead changed so often, it was random chance who would be ahead when the buzzer sounded, and Hilldale had the luck.

It was the girls’ first loss since Dana had moved there. When Dana saw the looks on her teammates’ faces, she started hugging each of them in turn—which turned into a group hug on the sidelines. Before they broke, Tawnia started the Riverton battle chant—a football thing—and they all stomped in time. They broke out of the huddle with fiercer grins on their faces than Dana had ever seen.

Dana’s family came down to say goodbye before they left—except for Clara, who was staying with friends. Her father watched the cheerleaders on the court for a moment.

“I have to admit,” he said, “she isn’t who I would have expected.”

He was looking at Nikki. How did he know—? Oh, Clara, of course. “Dad—”

“I mean, all these tall buxom blondes to choose from.”

“No, really, Dad—”

“Surely one of them would have—”

“Dad! Give it up while you’re behind.”

“But—”

“Come, Andrew,” his wife said, taking his arm, “stop teasing your daughter.” To Dana, “You’re sure you’re fine getting home?”

“I’ve got a ride,” Dana assured her.

Thea led her father away as he protested his innocence. The last Dana heard was Brad saying, “Drop it, Dad.”

At Dana’s shoulder, Sue-Ellen pulled a drink from her water bottle and said, “No wonder you don’t talk about him.”

“He’s an accountant,” Dana said, deadpan.

“Ah,” Sue-Ellen said, leaving Dana to wonder what on earth that explained. But it was, in its way, an acknowledgment of apology accepted.

The night wasn’t a total loss—the boys won. If anything, the gym was even louder than during the pep rally. It was several minutes before you could talk without shouting.

After Dana finished congratulating the boys, she turned to find Nikki leading a man towards her. His resemblance to his daughter was striking. Dana wondered whether Nikki would gray at the temples like that—it could look really cool. On Dr. Theopopolis, it was distinguished.

“Father, this is Dana Partlow.”

“Well played,” he said as he shook her hand. His grip was firm, but not aggressive. “Shame you didn’t win.”

“We did what we could.”

“You have a good hand for the ball. I hope you keep with it.”

“I hope to,” Dana said. She found herself liking him—to her surprise, given what he was putting his daughter through.