Read Online Revenge of the Cheerleaders by Janette Rallison - Free Book Online

routine," Rachel added.
    "What do you want me to do?" I asked.
    Samantha let out a sigh. "Remember when you quit choir, you were so glad you never had to sing for Mr. Metzerol again?"
    "Yeah," I said. I knew what she was going to say, and dreaded it before she opened her mouth again.
    "Go ask him if he can coach you through the song."

    When I got home my mother asked me where Adrian was. I told her I didn't care because I was never speaking to Adrian again, and then, even though I thought I had finished crying, I cried all over again when I told my mother what had happened.
    Mom listened, shaking her head. "How could he do such a thing?" she asked. "What's wrong with him?" And then finally she threw her hands up and said, "Well, that's the last straw. Adrian is not seeing that boy anymore. He is no longer welcome in our home."
    An hour later Adrian came home. By that time I was up in the bathroom brushing my teeth. I heard Mom's voice, low and angry, talking to my sister, and then Adrian's voice, louder and defensive, saying, "It's just a song. Besides, she insults him all the time."
    "That isn't the same," Mom said. "You know that isn't the same."
    Something slammed. Probably the coat closet. "How come you always take her side?"
    "And how come you never do?" Mom snapped back. "She's your sister. And until Rick apologizes to Chelsea and promises not to sing that song, you won't see him. Is that clear?"
    I heard footsteps storming down the hall then Adrian yelled, "You're trying to ruin my life!"
    As if she needed any help doing that.
    Adrian walked by the bathroom and saw me rinsing out my toothbrush. She paused by the doorway, her breath still coming out quickly. "So now you're taking Rick away from me."
    "I didn't make him sing that song."
    "But you told Mom about it. You blew it all out of proportion. It's not like he said anything that isn't true."
    I stared at her, then shook my head. How could she see things that way? How could she have so much hatred for me that she thought her boyfriend was justified in singing trash about me in front of everybody? At that moment I wanted to hurt her as badly as she hurt me. With an even voice I said, "Tell me, how many songs did Rick write about you on his new CD?"
    "What?" she asked.
    "Did he write any songs about what a wonderful girlfriend you are?"
    She let out an exasperated grunt, "The CD is called Cheerleaders in Action. I'm not a cheerleader."
    "Oh. Well doesn't it seem a little obsessive that your boyfriend wrote a bunch of songs about your sister? Maybe you should think about that."
    When her face flushed red I knew my words had hit their mark. Still, she wasn't going to let me have the last word in the argument. She took a step toward me. "Rick isn't interested in you. He wrote those songs about cheerleaders because he's sick of watching the way you and your friends walk over everyone else."
    As if. I would have loved to hear about just who she thought I'd been waltzing over, but I wasn't about to let myself get distracted. Instead I shrugged, "So you're saying he does think you're a wonderful girlfriend?"
    She lifted her chin as though daring me to contradict her. "Yes. He loves me."
    "Well, since he doesn't want to lose you, he shouldn't have a hard time apologizing to me and switching songs for the audition, should he?"
    She rolled her eyes. "You don't think he'll do it? You think you've gotten rid of him just because you told Mom about that song? Well, even though you've never apologized to him for the way you look down at him all the time, and even though 'Dangerously Blonde' is his best song, he'll do it if I ask him to."
    I smiled at her. "Mmm hmm. Why don't you go call him now?"
    Even though I didn't show any confidence in her assertion, I really did hope she was right. And I didn't even care about the apology. I just wanted him to never sing that song again. If he would promise not to sing it, that would mean I didn't have to shove myself into something tight and