so white,
I kind of
want to
run.
Kate
Mom always smiles
when she says these things.
Telling me I’m beautiful.
Telling me I’m smart.
Telling me I’m not like Jill.
Telling me what I should be doing better.
Telling me what I’m doing wrong.
When she says these things,
I see Mom at her most smiley.
Kate
I was so little when Jill left,
I can barely remember.
My big sister,
always yelling,
throwing things,
a tornado,
a siren.
She was the fly
in Mom’s perfect soup.
She was the incessant dog barking
in Mom’s quiet night.
And then she was gone.
A storm blown past.
Everything was perfect again.
Mom got her way.
They don’t talk, of course,
so Mom hasn’t heard
Jill is on her way home.
Well, not this home, but
this town,
and I’m so excited to see her;
it’s been four years!
But she doesn’t want me to tell Mom,
so I won’t
even though . . .
wouldn’t Mom want to know?
I’d hope so.
TAM
The quiet lasts a little too long
before Kate’s jaw
unclenches,
she smiles at me,
grabs my arm.
Let’s get out of here!
We climb in the car
and as the seatbelts click, I watch:
her posture straightens,
her shoulders go back,
her chin sticks out,
she takes a deep breath.
She’s like the Terminator
rebuilding herself.
I’m impressed how she does it,
quickly,
eyes facing front.
It makes me wonder how often
she rebuilds herself,
and if it’s always
because of her mom.
Alex
Alyx
Alexx
Well.
Well.
Well.
This mascot.
This falcon.
This Ponytail.
Will she have fire?
Will she have energy?
Will she have bounce?
She’s had bounce.
She’s had fire.
She’s had energy.
All week.
At school.
And especially at lunch.
Kate
Dad always calls my
cheer uniform a costume
and Mom gets so mad,
because cheerleaders are
athletes, Fred.
Have some respect, Fred.
Would you say football players
wear costumes, Fred?
I wiggle my giant feathery fingers.
I stomp my enormous yellow feet on the turf.
Dad might win the argument for once,
if he wasn’t away (for work).
(Though I have to say,
Dad’s not wrong about my cheer uniform.
It does feel like a costume sometimes,
in a weird sort of way.
A costume of a different Kate.
A costume I wear every day.)
TAM
My goober,
my shortstack,
my Levi is here.
Whew!
Things feel better now.
More normal.
Less weird.
I’m about to tell him
about Kate’s mom
and how she’s old
and kind of mean
and possibly
for some reason
hates me
but the band starts up,
everyone cheers,
the Falcons kick off,
and Kate . . .
hahaha!
Kate appears!
Kate
I can’t see that well.
I can’t hear that well.
But it doesn’t matter.
None of it matters.
I race around,
high-five the crowd,
I dance,
I goof,
I sweat,
I’m a mess.
And oh man, it’s so much fun,
so
much
fun.
Because inside this thing?
I can be whoever I want to be.
Inside this thing?
I can scream
and no one can hear me.
TAM
It’s like she’s magnified.
Her movements are hers
but so big.
She’s come alive,
breathing life
into that ridiculous falcon head.
Bobbing
and goofing,
bouncing
and running,
egging on the crowd,
a full-on clown.
I can’t believe it’s her in there
but on the other hand
I totally can,
the more her face is hidden from sight
the more she’s the Kate
I recognize.
TAM
I tried to stay
to say
goodbye.
To glimpse
to catch
to earn
Kate’s eye.
To whack her
Falcon shoulder
tell her
good job.
But her mom
came back
to pick her up,
her mom
waved me off,
said I’d better go
and now Timothy
—Levi’s brother—
is giving us a ride home,
and everyone is quiet,
and I wish I could’ve stayed,
said bye to Kate,
watched that ponytail swing,
made her laugh
one last time
today.
Kate
TAM
I can smile the smile
I smile the smile
act the act
I’m my own act
I can even trick myself
I am who I am
inside
for a little while,
most of the time
believe it
bona fide
truth
then I wonder
then I wonder
am I really the girl
am I really the girl
that everyone
the one everyone
wants me to be
sees as me
deep
inside.
Do people know
Is it possible
the dust jacket
my dust jacket
the story of me
this story of me
they read . . .
they read . . .
is actually
a story
a story
they write
they think
about me
instead of being
instead of being
the story that’s actually
the story that’s actually
mine?
Alex
Alyx
Alexx
Our Ponytail.
Our Falcon.
Our cheerleader.
Looks happy.
Seems excited.
Distracted.
Our Redwood.
Our Redwood.
Our Redwood.
Looks e
xuberant.
Seems jazzed.
Demands focus.
TAM
Girl!
Girl!
Girl!
High-five!
I saw you flying
out on that field,
hilarious Falcon
egging on the crowd.
You were amazing,
crazy.
I was breathless just watching.
You looked like you were having
so
much
fun.
I take back
everything
I’ve ever thought
about cheerleaders
because . . .
Girl!
Girl!
Girl!
You are fierce
and strong
and whew!
I feel like
right here
right now
I should ask
for your autograph
cause you are . . .
For!
Real!
Kate stares at me,
her eyes a little wide
and oh good grief,
did I just sound like Mom,
biggest dork
on the planet?
Well.
I don’t care.
It’s all true.
Kate is for sure
for real
and I hope she knows it, too.
Kate
I don’t know what to say
to Tam’s explosion of compliments
and shoulder punching
and excitement
when I know
I can’t possibly be the mascot
anymore after this.
I have to give the job to someone else,
prep for captain,
lead the squad.
But her excited face
is kind of how I feel inside
if I can get Mom’s voice in my head
to just be quiet.
It WAS really fun.
I DID do a great job.
I LOVED being goofy.
And the squad . . .
they moved and riffed
right along with me;
we were still a team,
they were all just fine.
In fact, everyone seemed
extra relaxed,
extra good, even,
without me barking orders
the whole time.
So what do I tell Mom?
What do I tell Coach?
I like being the Falcon.
I like it so much.
TAM
She’s quiet as I talk
which is weird
because she’s usually
not.
So the words keep flying from my mouth,
unstoppable,
I don’t know what else to do,
and Levi looks at me
like I’ve got some screws
loose,
but my mouth just runs
nonstop
and soon
Levi’s huffed off
and I’m asking Kate
to come see me play,
to watch me spike and dive
and serve and win
and my chest puffs out,
my heart beating big
just thinking about her
watching me
from the stands.
I want to show off, too.
I want her to see me work, too.
I want her to know that I can sweat, too.
I want her to know how much I love what I do, too.
Her distant eyes
swerve toward me.
She blinks once
and after a pause
where maybe she wakes up
she smiles
and says,
Okay.
I’d love to see you play.
Kate
Becca and the squad
eating lunch on the other side
of the cafeteria.
I should go over there
hang out
talk about
the game last night.
I should see who else
might want to be
the Falcon
next.
I should chat about Chloe’s
MDOMG countdown clock,
see how many days left.
I should go now.
Get up.
Walk over.
But Tam is talking about volleyball
and her eyes are so bright,
her smile so big.
She talks with her hands,
gestures wide,
knocking her milk over
twice
and I can’t bear to leave her,
can’t bear to go over there,
don’t want to listen to Becca,
don’t want to plot my takeover.
I like the Falcon.
I like lunch with Tam.
I wish
Mom’s voice
would get out of my head.
TAM
Shaking milk off my sleeve,
I laugh.
She does, too
and I ask:
Do you
want to come over
after school?
You could
go with us
to the match?
Watch me smash
the competition?
She laughs
again
and it makes me feel
light and bright.
I would do anything,
say anything
to hear her laugh
all night.
Kate
Inside I feel a little zing
when I text Mom
about the volleyball game
and she says no
that I should come home
but I say I need to go
to check out the cheer squad,
the sixth graders,
the B team.
Maybe some of them will be good
and I can scout for next year’s squad.
I hold my breath,
watch the
dot
dot
dots
Then . . .
it works!
My reward:
Fine. Yes. Okay.
But don’t be too late.
I smile at Tam.
And I turn off my phone.
TAM
This will be awesome.
This will be great.
Levi comes to nearly all of my games.
So it will be the same with Kate.
I won’t be nervous
or act weird.
It’s exactly the same, just . . .
there will be two friends
in the stands
cheering me on.
I won’t feel nervous
or anything like that.
It’ll be just a regular game,
no sweat.
TAM
Kate
We walk quietly.
We walk quietly.
I bump her arm.
She bumps my arm.
I bump hers back.
She bumps mine back.
We laugh.
We laugh.
We pass Frankie’s house.
An old lady is in her yard.
I wave.
She waves at us.
Hey, Frankie!
The old lady yells hello.
Another lady in the yard,
bent over a small pond,
stands,
holding a turtle,
smiles.
Hey, Roxy!
The other lady holds up the
turtle,
like she’s about to say Cheers!
How’s William?
Both ladies look up.
Both ladies look at the turtle.
Fine, they say
,
in unison.
William waggles his feet.
The turtle waves hi, too.
You coming to my game tonight?
Sorry, William is busy,
the second lady says with a wink.
William waggles his feet harder.
I snort.
Does William know if YOU
are coming?
We’ll see you there! they say,
still in unison,
making Tam laugh.
Kate watches us like she’s never seen
two ladies, a kid, and a turtle
have a conversation before.