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had youcommitted, noquestions asked.
At that point in time, there were three things inlife that I knewforcertain: (1) I
was a girl who
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d never met a site she couldn
t hack or a code she couldn
t break, (2) I hada roundhouse
that could put agrown man in
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the hospital, and(3) I would
without question
chop off my ownhands before I
d come within fivefeet of a pom-
pom.I liked to flybelow the radar.
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I was the girl slouched in the back of your
geometry class, not the one shaking mybooty on thefield. In fact, in
the year andahalf since we
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d moved toBayport, I
d spent more timein detention
than at peprallies and
considered myselflucky; unless
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school spiritreferred to a
school-board-
sanctioned wine, Ihad no intentionof buying.And
then, one day outof the blue, the
note appeared in
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my locker.TobyKlein
You are cordiallyinvited to aninformation
session on theBayport
High VarsitySpirit Squad today at
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we wereofficially theBayport
Lion(esse)s. I kid younot. That
s just one of the many reasons
I couldn
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t fathom the ideaof actually
supporting the
school in any way, shape, or form. That and the fact that I
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d had to forciblyremove afootball player
s hand from mybrother
s arm three times
in the lastmonth.Emphasis on the
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word forcibly. If they touched Noah again,
someone wasgoing to lose anarm. Go Lions!I
turned the noteover in my hand.
Wow, I thought, the God Squad
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must reallybescratchingbottom if they
re recruiting me. Maybe they justcouldn
t stand it that there were
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reason the varsitycheerleaders
were collectivelyreferred to as
the God Squad,and it wasn
t because they were religious; it
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was because atBayport High,
they were gods:
the ultimate socialpower. Mostpeople dideverything shortof bowing down
to worship themon a regular
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basis.I was not mostpeople.Slamming
my locker shut, I moved to throw the note away,but decided to
save itfor
ammunition incase anyone in my
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Stupid glitterpens,
I muttered, butautomatically, my mind begancataloging theletters I
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d noticed. I stuffed the noteinto my jeans,
took four stepsdown thehallway, and
then stopped. Mybrain does tricky
things with letters and
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numbers: scrambles themand unscrambles
them, analyzes theircombinations,looks forpatterns. When I
was little, I lovedpalindromes and
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anagrams andany secretlanguagemore
complicated thanPig Latin.
Standing there in the hallway, myletter-savvymind
did its thing, and Ipulled the
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invitation backout of mypocket.After a
quick glancearound the hall
to make sure noone was watching,I held the small
white card in thelight again and,
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one by one, pickedout the letters
that appeared
slightly more sparkly than theircounterparts.Tob
y Klein
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You are cordiallyinvited to aninformation
session on theBayportHigh VarsitySpirit
Squad today atfour in room
117. Go Lions (andLionesses)!There
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it was in blackand white, or,
more specifically,
in hot pink glitterpen.COMEALONE.After that,I really did throw
the note away,
because there was no way it had
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been written byan actualcheerleader.
Most of themprobably couldn
t even spellcordially, let
alone embed secret
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instructions in aninvite to one of
their oh-so-
special meetings. Someone wasdefinitelyplaying a trick on
me, and I h