Landry in Like (3 page)

“Wow, that's pretty cool. Are you going to work out with them or just watch?”

“I dunno and Halle felt a little too intimidated to ask, so she said we should just go in, like, yoga pants and stuff so we can work out if we need to, but we won't look overeager if they don't want to include us just yet,” she said.

“That's smart,” I said, feeling a tinge of anxiety hitting me. My biggest fear was Ashanti getting in with the cheerleading crowd and leaving me behind next year. At the same time, I knew it was a great opportunity for her and I wanted to be supportive.

“I'm so happy you got asked to go,” I said.

“Thanks, but this is the weekend I'm supposed to go with my parents to see my grandma at the nursing home,” she said.

“Can you go at a different time or another day to see her?”

“Well, Grandma has dementia so evenings aren't great for her. She's more confused the closer it gets to nighttime and… well, in the mornings she's confused for a while after she wakes up, too. So afternoons are the best bet, and my parents can't go on Sunday because they have tickets to a play. I feel super guilty about it, but my mom said it's up to me if I want to do this cheerleading practice instead. I can tell she wants me to pick visiting Grandma, but truth is I
hate
going to the nursing home. I can't stand seeing this blank stare Grandma gives me. Even on her good days when she seems to know who I am, she still does that stare.”

“Oh wow, that's got to be hard,” I said.

“Yeah, and on her bad days she, like, looks right through you like you're not even there. I miss the old her so much. So I want to be with her, but sometimes… well, every time I come home from visiting her I cry afterward. I asked my dad if it was super selfish to miss this one visit.”

I asked her what he said and she sighed.

“He said, ‘Ashanti, I can't be your conscience. You are old enough to make your own decision on this and you have to live with the consequences. Your mother and I trust you to make the right choice.'”

“So basically he's saying, ‘You better be in the car at noon,'” I said.

“Exactly, but my mom said, ‘I understand that place isn't fun for a young person and you want to get in with this group you'll be cheering with next year, so we're not going to get mad at you for picking the cheer practice.'”

“That's pretty cool of her.”

“Yeah, but then my dad sighed and said something about how this generation was going down a toilet bowl of morality or something. So what should I do?”

“Would you think I was chickening out if I said, ‘Go with your heart'?'” I asked.

“Depends. Are you saying that so I won't get mad at you if my dad gets all mad and preachy on me? Or do you truly think that's what I should do?”

“I think you should go with your heart.”

“Yeah, I don't know, but I gotta go. I have to have my room spotless by eight tonight for allowance inspection, and you know my dad's gonna go all drill sergeant on me and scrutinize everything. See ya.”

After we hung up, I felt conflicted. In my own heart, I felt Ashanti should go spend time with her grandmother, but there was also that fear nagging at me that once Ashanti got in with the high school cheerleaders, she would leave me behind.

T
he next day
, Ashanti told me she had decided to go visit her grandma until Halle called her and said the girls were going to show them one of the basic cheers they'd be doing next year.

“Halle said it's a super complicated splits thing and if we can get it down before the other girls come to the big practice, then we'll have a better spot in the routines,” Ashanti said.

“What did your parents say?” I asked.

“Dad was a little more understanding this morning. I think he knows that place scares me and, yeah, he wants me to put my grandma's needs before my fears, but he did say he wouldn't be mad if I went to cheerleading. And my parents said we could go visit Grandma next weekend, so… that should be okay, right?”

The bell rang before I could answer. However, Ashanti asked me again at lunch what I thought.

“Well, my grandparents are all in Chicago, and I have one grandpa who died when I was little. My situation is a little different because I don't get to see mine that often,” I said.

“So what are you saying?”

“If it were me, I'd go to the nursing home, but your grandma lives nearby, so like I said, it's a little different.”

Ashanti nodded as she chewed her nachos. “You're right though. I'm going to tell Halle and Maggie after school that I'm not going with them.”

In social studies, Mrs. Hearst said she was done grading our tests.

“Class, this test proves you're not paying close enough attention to my lessons. Many of you scored well on the questions relating to the book, but when it came to info that was only present in the lecture, it was quite disappointing,” Mrs. Hearst said. “I make it a point to not assign extra credit points to tests, but due to the fact some of you showed you do retain knowledge given in my lessons, I felt that should be rewarded.”

She began handing the tests back. Peyton got a big smile on her face as soon as she saw hers. I could see a large “ninety-eight percent,” written on the top. Ericka frowned a bit when she got hers, but she was still in an, “A,” range. Then Mrs. Hearst stopped next to me and placed my test faced down. Uh-oh. I slowly flipped it over while holding my breath. On the top it said, “ninety-two percent” and Mrs. Hearst had wrote, “Impressive use of lecture material in the essay questions. Well done.”

“How bad did you do, Landry?” Ericka asked.

I held up my exam. She narrowed her eyes a bit. “Well… just imagine if you studied,” she said.

Tori got her test next and it said “ninety-eight percent.” She made a face at it like it was covered in maggots, flipped through the pages, and then shot her arm in the air and leaned forward in her seat.

“Mrs. Hearst, I don't understand why I only got a ninety-eight when it appears I should have one-hundred percent.”

“Yes, Miss Robins, and you almost got it except when I saw such exceptional use of lecture material from some of your classmates in their essays. You did not include much, if any, of my lessons, so I felt it was not fair to give you full credit.”

Peyton put her hand up by her mouth to cover her smile, and India rolled her eyes. Tori sat back down scraping the bottom of the chair loudly as she scooted back in — something Mrs. Hearst hates with a passion.

“I cannot believe I got marked down for focusing more on the book than her dumb lectures,” Tori said.

“Well, we got the same grade,” Peyton said.

“I know. That shocks me, too,” Tori said her gray-blue eyes wide. It was obvious Tori thought she was smarter than Peyton. Peyton seemed stung, but she didn't say anything.

A
fter school
, Ashanti asked me to sit with her on the bus. I sat down and immediately Ericka was at my side.

“Are you mad at someone?” she asked with a touch of eagerness. Was she trying to start drama?

“No. Why?”

“Well, why are you sitting so far away from everyone with Ashanti?”

Huh? We were two seats away from the rest of the girls. I noticed Devon, India, Peyton, and Tori were all staring at me. Sure, usually Ashanti and I sat right with those guys, but was it that huge a deal for us to talk alone for a bit? I didn't want to start anything, so I just shrugged and said, “Homework stuff,” knowing I'd have several texts later to answer.

“So what's up?” I said, turning back to Ashanti.

“Are they mad we're sitting away from them?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don't worry about it.”

“I cannot wait to get to high school. People gotta be more mature there, right?”

I shrugged thinking about what Vladi and also what his best friend's sister, Kendall Ivanov, had told me.

“Promise me we'll never get mad at each other over stupid stuff like that,” she said.

“That is a promise I can keep. So what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, it's nothing. Just some junk Yasmin was saying. I'm not telling you this because I think it's true. I just wanted you to hear it before you heard someone else say it.”

My stomach felt like it was twisting. “What?”

“Well, I told her what you said about me going to see my grandma, and she said you were probably trying to hold me back from making new friends,” Ashanti said rolling her eyes. “I know that's not true, but I didn't want you to hear that and think I was keeping anything from you.”

I swallowed hard. That was my worst fear right there, but to hear it out loud felt so much worse.

“I wouldn't do that,” I said as my voice jumped up an octave.

“Yeah, I know. Sure, all the cheer squad girls are super close and do everything together, but it's not going to be that way with us,” she said. “We're besties, and that's not going to change just because I joined a team.”

I nodded trying to ignore the pukey feeling.

“I'll text ya later,” she said as she got up at her stop.

I nodded as I watched her walk away. Everything in me wanted to believe nothing would change, but my gut told me differently.

M
om came
in my room as I was finishing up my science homework.

“I got a call from your modeling agent today,” she said. “Apparently, a local talk show wants to have you on to discuss the
American Ingénue
Wild Card webisode.”

“Seriously? TV? That's amazing.”

“Yeah, but it's for tomorrow and it's a live morning show.”

“Wait — it's live? As in, if I mess up on TV everyone sees it and there's no going back and editing my boobery out?”

Mom laughed. “Well, it's a last minute thing. They had someone cancel and it's just a quick interview — less than four minutes. Mrs. Myeski feels it's a lucky break because of the cancellation and you should take advantage of it. She said it's extremely hard to book a local model on one of those shows, but she sent a press release about you on the Wild Card show to the morning show producer and they thought of her when they got the cancellation.”

I told her I wanted to do it and then ran to my room to pick out what to wear. Mom came in after she called to confirm I'd do the show.

“Mrs. Myeski said you shouldn't wear prints, red, green, black, or white because those show up funny on TV,” Mom said.

Okay, well that left nothing else in my closet. Seriously, when did I buy
all
striped tops? I never noticed that before.

“How about that pretty ocean blue sweater you got me for Christmas?” Mom said.

“You'd let me borrow it?”

“Kid, it didn't escape me that you got yourself the
exact
same sweater in lavender, so yeah, I kind of picked up on the fact you liked the style.”

The sweater had a V-neck, so I could easily change out of it to put my school uniform on after the segment without getting staticky hair.

“Did Mrs. Myeski say I was supposed to do anything special with my makeup to be on TV or anything?”

“Just to bring powder with you so you don't get shiny in the bright lights and wear some blush. And she said she was going to email me the talking points she was giving to the producer so you'd have an idea of what they might ask you on the show.”

I nodded but felt my stomach turn over. I assumed they told people who were guests on the show
exactly
what they planned to ask them before they went on. It never hit me that they might throw random questions in as well.

Mom brought me the questions, and they were all basic ones about the contest and what I felt I learned from modeling.

“What do I say I learned?” I asked. “That some girls will cheat to get ahead and that I almost advanced on the show due to someone else sabotaging another girl?” I still couldn't believe one girl tried to make it look like my friend had been cheating.

“She said to not mention anything about what went on backstage.”

“But what if they ask why I got the Beautiful Inside and Out Award? After all, if I didn't go to the judges and tell them Kyra deserved that spot because of someone's lies, then I wouldn't have gotten it,” I said.

“Mrs. Myeski wrote that you should just say it how it was a wonderful experience and you feel you've gained poise and confidence from it.”

“She wants me to lie?” I asked.

Mom started laughing. “So you don't feel more confident then, I take it?”

“Well… sort of. It feels like that saying, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.”

Mom nodded. “That's a learning experience then, so, see, you did get something out of it.”

I shrugged. At the time, all I felt I got out of it was a bob haircut I wasn't too sure about and a new knowledge that models could be uber-competitive and backstabbing. But I guess I did learn that telling the truth was always the way to go and how you should do the right thing no matter what. So, yeah, I guess I did get something positive out of the whole thing other than the fact I was going to be in an ad with the models Talisa Milan and Jem Jade.

I wanted to call my friends and tell them about the show, but Mom said we had to be at the TV station super early — even before school started. She said I could text them, but I had to turn off my phone and go to bed.

“I'm waking you up at four a.m.,” she said. “You have to be there at five-thirty.”

“Can I just call Peyton and Ashanti? Please?”

“Fine, but you have five minutes and then that phone is mine and you're in bed.”

I dialed Peyton, but her mom said she was in the shower. I told her mom about the show tomorrow and said my mom wouldn't let me stay up any later to call Peyton back.

“How exciting! I will make sure Peyton knows, and I will be watching you tomorrow. Good luck, honey,” Mrs. Urich said.

I called Ashanti next and told her.

“Get out. Get. Out. No way. This is so exciting!”

“I'm so nervous. My stomach is already doing cartwheels. I can't do one, but my stomach can. Seems unfair. What if I throw up before I go on? I did that right before I went on at the statewide
Ingénue
competition in Detroit, and my mom had to give me a cough drop to cover up the smell.”

“I'm sure you'll be fine, but… just in case, take a cough drop with you,” Ashanti said. “Good luck. You'll be great and I'll go set the DVR now.”

I hung up and sent a text to Vladi, India, Devon, Thalia, Tori, and Ericka, so no one would be mad and feel left out. Then I shut off my phone. Mom poked her head in the door to make sure I was in bed.

“Night, hon. Try to get some rest,” she said.

Easier said than done. I stared at my ceiling while thinking about all the things that could possibly go wrong tomorrow. Seeing as the show was on in the morning, I never got to watch it, so I had no idea what the set was like — did it have super high chairs and I'd struggle to get into them? And what if it had those higher stools that were kind of tippy and my rear overshot the seat and I fell off? Or what if the prep questions got lost and the interviewer asked me random things like my feelings on nuclear war or asked me about some foreign political leader who I had never heard of before, and I appeared stupid? Why did I say I'd do this?

I tried to get comfortable and it felt like I had just dozed off when I felt my mom shaking my shoulder.

“Rise and shine, TV star,” she said.

“But… how? I just fell asleep,” I said rubbing my eyes. I had gotten all gross and sweaty overnight. My nightgown was drenched. How disgusting.

“I was sweating so bad in my sleep.”

“Just nerves,” Mom said. “But you have time to shower, so no worries. Now what do you want for breakfast?”

“Um, Mom? With my past history, do you think eating before this thing is a good idea?” I said. My nervous stomach was the stuff of legends, and I didn't want to chance either throwing up or having a bout of diarrhea on live television.

“Maybe something bland so you don't upset your tummy?” she asked.

“I'm fourteen, we can say ‘stomach,' now,” I said. “I dunno though. It might come back up or go… you know, the
other
way. Stress and my stomach are not friends.”

“I'll make some plain white rice. That usually sits well, and if it doesn't seem appetizing then I can put it in a plastic travel container so you can eat it when you're done with the interview. Now go get ready.”