do with all of this information?” I asked, half ready to throw myself into supersecret agent mode once more and half thinking that this whole thing had been some kind of giant mistake.
Tara pulled into the school parking lot and immediately into a primo spot. “Whatever they tell us to.”
It was funny—in my mind, when I asked Tara what we were going to do with the information we’d acquired, her response had been “Whatever we want.”
CHAPTER 13
Code Word: Cheer Shorts
“F-A-B-U! L-O-U-S! Bayport Lions, fab-u-lous!”
I heard the rest of the Squad before I saw them. As we wrapped around to the practice gym, their shouts echoed down the hallway. Tara pushed the door to the gym open, and I spent about five seconds devoutly praying that the cheering girls in front of me were a hologram. Because if they weren’t…
“Last time,” Brooke called out, meeting my eyes, and a few seconds later, all of the girls struck poses, cheesy grins plastered to their made-up faces.
Brooke pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, and I noticed that she’d worked up a sweat. So much for my hologram theory, I thought. Somehow, I doubted cheerleader illusions had holographic sweat.
“You guys get what you were looking for?” Brooke asked Tara.
Tara nodded. “Totally.”
Brooke smiled. “Awesome.”
How many other times had I overheard the cheerleaders talking like this? Had they always been talking in cheer code? Like I’d assumed that they were talking about some guy or MAC lip gloss or an outfit at the mall, and they’d actually been communicating on a completely different level? I was supposed to be the hacker. I broke codes without even meaning to, but all it had taken was one too many
awesomes
from them, and I’d assumed they were idiots.
Such was the brilliance of the Squad.
“Ready for practice?” Brooke asked.
I wonder what we would be practicing. Martial arts? Disguise and surprise strategies? Misdirection?
“You guys get changed. We’re getting ready to go over Saturday’s halftime routine.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I seriously hoped she wasn’t talking about what I thought she was talking about, but Tara reached over and pressed gently on my chin, forcing it back up.
“Come on,” she directed. “Let’s get changed.”
And then before I could so much as audibly lament my dismal situation, she dragged me into the girls’ locker room.
“You have to learn to cheer eventually,” Tara told me.
“The sooner, the better, and side note, Brooke can get kind of ugly when she’s mad, so trust me when I say it’s not worth arguing with her over this.”
“I could take her,” I grumbled. Part of me wanted a rematch with Brooke on solid ground.
“Maybe you could,” Tara said, “but I couldn’t, and you’re my partner, which means…”
“I’m your responsibility?” I asked.
Tara shrugged. “Something like that.”
I whistled under my breath. “Man, they must really hate you.”
“Nah.” Tara shook her head as she stripped off her shirt and slipped into a sports bra. “It was either Chloe or me, and Chlo…”
“Hates me,” I finished.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Tara said. “She just doesn’t like what you represent.” Tara opened a locker and tossed me an extra set of workout clothes. I took one look at the teeny-tiny gym shorts, which had the word
CHEER
written across the butt, and gave Tara a look.
“It’s all part of the game,” she reminded me, and because I liked Tara and felt bad that she’d gotten the short end of the spirit stick and ended up with permanent Toby Duty, I changed clothes with only a minor level of grumbling.
“So what do I represent to Chloe?” I asked.
Tara bent down to tie her shoes, and she didn’t look at me as she answered. “What she used to be.”
“You’re kidding me.” Lucy had said that Chloe was a transfer—that she’d registered her first patent when she was ten, and it
had
occurred to me that the
Tara pulled into the school parking lot and immediately into a primo spot. “Whatever they tell us to.”
It was funny—in my mind, when I asked Tara what we were going to do with the information we’d acquired, her response had been “Whatever we want.”
CHAPTER 13
Code Word: Cheer Shorts
“F-A-B-U! L-O-U-S! Bayport Lions, fab-u-lous!”
I heard the rest of the Squad before I saw them. As we wrapped around to the practice gym, their shouts echoed down the hallway. Tara pushed the door to the gym open, and I spent about five seconds devoutly praying that the cheering girls in front of me were a hologram. Because if they weren’t…
“Last time,” Brooke called out, meeting my eyes, and a few seconds later, all of the girls struck poses, cheesy grins plastered to their made-up faces.
Brooke pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, and I noticed that she’d worked up a sweat. So much for my hologram theory, I thought. Somehow, I doubted cheerleader illusions had holographic sweat.
“You guys get what you were looking for?” Brooke asked Tara.
Tara nodded. “Totally.”
Brooke smiled. “Awesome.”
How many other times had I overheard the cheerleaders talking like this? Had they always been talking in cheer code? Like I’d assumed that they were talking about some guy or MAC lip gloss or an outfit at the mall, and they’d actually been communicating on a completely different level? I was supposed to be the hacker. I broke codes without even meaning to, but all it had taken was one too many
awesomes
from them, and I’d assumed they were idiots.
Such was the brilliance of the Squad.
“Ready for practice?” Brooke asked.
I wonder what we would be practicing. Martial arts? Disguise and surprise strategies? Misdirection?
“You guys get changed. We’re getting ready to go over Saturday’s halftime routine.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I seriously hoped she wasn’t talking about what I thought she was talking about, but Tara reached over and pressed gently on my chin, forcing it back up.
“Come on,” she directed. “Let’s get changed.”
And then before I could so much as audibly lament my dismal situation, she dragged me into the girls’ locker room.
“You have to learn to cheer eventually,” Tara told me.
“The sooner, the better, and side note, Brooke can get kind of ugly when she’s mad, so trust me when I say it’s not worth arguing with her over this.”
“I could take her,” I grumbled. Part of me wanted a rematch with Brooke on solid ground.
“Maybe you could,” Tara said, “but I couldn’t, and you’re my partner, which means…”
“I’m your responsibility?” I asked.
Tara shrugged. “Something like that.”
I whistled under my breath. “Man, they must really hate you.”
“Nah.” Tara shook her head as she stripped off her shirt and slipped into a sports bra. “It was either Chloe or me, and Chlo…”
“Hates me,” I finished.
“She doesn’t hate you,” Tara said. “She just doesn’t like what you represent.” Tara opened a locker and tossed me an extra set of workout clothes. I took one look at the teeny-tiny gym shorts, which had the word
CHEER
written across the butt, and gave Tara a look.
“It’s all part of the game,” she reminded me, and because I liked Tara and felt bad that she’d gotten the short end of the spirit stick and ended up with permanent Toby Duty, I changed clothes with only a minor level of grumbling.
“So what do I represent to Chloe?” I asked.
Tara bent down to tie her shoes, and she didn’t look at me as she answered. “What she used to be.”
“You’re kidding me.” Lucy had said that Chloe was a transfer—that she’d registered her first patent when she was ten, and it
had
occurred to me that the
Similar Books
