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Tanner took my fork, put it with his into the empty Styrofoam container, and set it in the backseat. "Okay. Maybe we just need to agree that we'll both do our best to be nice to each other's siblings and never talk about them again. We can't change them, and we don't want to spend our time together discussing them anyway."

"Right," I said. "And actually now that you mention it, I think it would be best if we didn't hang out at my house. Since Adrian broke up with Rick, well, I just don't think she needs any reminders of him."

"That's fine," he said, and sounded relieved that I didn't want to force him into spending time with Adrian.

So much for honesty being the best policy. I was getting an A+ on this ethics test.

"We can go other places. I'm not working Saturday." Tanner moved closer to me. With his arm stretched across the back of the seat, he played with the ends of my hair. I shivered again and this time it was definitely not from the cold.

"Good."

I knew he was about to kiss me and then the subject would be gone forever, so before he did I said, "Tanner, did you know your brother is singing a song about me for the auditions?"

He leaned closer to me, his hands twining through my hair. "He changed his mind about that. He's singing a different song now."

"He is?"

"Yeah, as I recall he had a change of heart around about the time I held his guitar out a second-story window. Plus, I told him I wouldn't ever help him lug around his band equipment again if he kept bothering you."

He ran a finger down the nape of my neck, which made it very hard to do things—like concentrate on the conversation, and breathe.

"Do your parents know about all of this?" I asked.

"They overheard some of it, but they didn't say much. They couldn't really because my grandmother was too busy lecturing about how young men treated young women when she was a girl. Opening doors. Holding chairs. That took quite a while."

I considered this while Tanner slid even closer to me. If Rick had decided not to sing "Dangerously Blonde," wouldn't he have told Adrian about it? He would have told her he was doing it for her and then Adrian would have triumphantly told me about it.

But that hadn't happened.

Then again, if Rick had told Tanner in front of his parents and grandmother that he wasn't going to sing the song, that meant something. Maybe I really didn't need to get up in front of everyone in a skating outfit and sing.

I should have felt relieved or hopeful, but I didn't. I realized with almost a shock, that even if Rick didn't sing "Dangerously Blonde," I still wanted to audition for High School Idol. I wanted to do it for me and I wanted to win.

When had that happened? When had I stopped mocking all of those people with singing ambitions and become one of them?

Tanner bent down and kissed me and I kissed him back. His arms felt warm and comfortable and for a few moments I didn't think of auditions, or Rick, or anything. There was just Tanner and me, and he was holding me close. It was enough.

Chapter 16

Friday brought rain, which immediately turned to ice, and then it snowed some more. This didn't mean that the football game would be canceled. Football players are too rugged for that, or fans too insistent, one of the two. What it did mean was that we got to wear our cheer sweats and gloves. It also meant, unfortunately that instead of riding in the school van with our advisor, we would ride in the school bus with the guys.

Moscow's high school is only a twenty-minute drive from PHS, but Mrs. Jones won't drive us anywhere if the roads are icy.

I don't mind riding to a game with the team, but trust me, riding back home with a bus full of riled-up, sweaty guys is not something anyone would voluntarily do.

The game started out well. The sky cleared, we scored a touchdown during the first ten minutes, and Mike got tackled. As if this wasn't enough to put me in a good mood, I noticed Naomi up in the stands flirting with Bjorne Jansen, a foreign exchange student from Sweden. He didn't speak much English, but Naomi's body language was easy to read in any language.

So much for, she understands me better.

That's one of the perks of being a cheerleader. You get to watch the crowd. Sometimes it's as entertaining as the game. I wondered how long it would take for this incident to get back to Mike.

Molly and Polly came, although they were barely distinguishable under their down coats, long scarves, and hats. They sat alone and as the stands filled up I kept checking to see if someone would sit next to them. But no one did.

Rick and some of his friends showed up, and Adrian arrived with some other sophomore girls, both of which surprised me since neither Rick or Adrian are football fans.

At first I was afraid they'd gravitate toward each other, talk, and work things out. But when Adrian saw Rick, she sent me a withering glare, as though she thought he'd come to see me.

Which was only true if he was looking for material for his follow-up CD: More Reasons to Hate Cheerleaders. The only attention he threw my way was the few times when he rolled his eyes at me. We sang our song during halftime and it went perfectly. I loved the feeling of belting out the tune and knowing my voice did everything I wanted it to. High notes, low notes, I held onto them triumphantly. The crowd clapped and cheered, giving me an incredible rush. As I smiled up at the audience I thought, this is why Rick wants to sing for a living.

And I'm not sure which was a bigger compliment: that I noticed Mr. Metzerol in the stands, nodding in rhythm with the song—I knew he'd just come to see my performance—or that Rick stared down from the stands, absolutely stunned.

The only time he'd heard me sing before was the pep assembly when I did my impromptu duet with Mrs. Jones.

Yeah, I wanted to tell him. I'm a little better with music, practice, and the help of my new best friend, Mr. Metzerol.

As we walked off the field, Aubrie grabbed my arm. "We're totally going to kill the competition tomorrow."

"I hope so." I smiled and then remembered that Aubrie is the optimistic one. I turned to see Rachel's expression.

She nodded in agreement. "Rick is toast."

Samantha said, "All you have to do is sing for the judges like you just sang for this crowd. No pressure. No reason to be nervous."

But I wasn't. "I can do it," I said. "It feels like I've been waiting my whole life to do this and just didn't know it until now."

We didn't say any more about it after that because we'd reached the stands, but we all cheered extra loud for the next few minutes.

Rick didn't roll his eyes at me anymore. He only scowled. I could see him talking to his friends, spitting out words. He got up from his seat and wandered around the stands, talking to this clique and then to that. Networking, I supposed. Proving to me he could play the popularity game if he wanted.

Adrian left not long after that, probably to sulk. Which was stupid because Rick would have eventually gotten around to talking to her group.

We won the game 21 to 14, and the crowd started their own impromptu cheer of: "We'll take state again!" Then the team, fans, and cheerleaders assembled on the edge of the field to hear the coach give his usual commentary/pep talk and to sing the fight song. After that, the fans headed back to their cars and the team to the bus.