Shush II

“Fantastic.”  Gitt says.

I toss my baton high into the air, and for a split second I am convinced I can follow where it will go.  But then I stumble forward whether the grass on the field is wet or dry.  My arms reach out, and I stagger back, and I miss the rotating metal by a mile.  It is the loudest thud in the world.  And I work hard not being sorry I ever breathed a word about baton practice.  After my family drives away, I perch high up in the bleachers on the opposite side of the field where no one seems to notice one of the Wave is missing.  I don’t worry too much that anyone will ask what I’m doing here.  And in case anyone asks:

I’m just waiting for a friend.

“One more time before we wrap it up.”  Gitt leads everything with the Wave.  Always.
 
I see Mickey on the field with the band.  His head turns towards Gitt, he watches her flashy color guard dance, batons spin, purple and white flags flap, and cheerleaders swoosh their pom-poms around.  Everyone moves together, one big teenage tribe.  I wish I knew the steps.  Then I remember I know some of this routine from watching, but not enough to dance too.  And then I hear Julio’s whimper inside my head, “You look real nice in the purple mini-skirt.”  And I consider leaving early.

“Same time Monday afternoon,” Gitt says.  I hear clapping and hooting.

I heard Gitt got a 1600 on her SAT and I think how good she is at showing Wave girls which direction to step or hop.  I close my eyes and imagine I am the leader of the Wave.  I dazzle everyone with my golden hair and flash my movie star crooked teeth and dangle promises.  (You’ll never be able to keep.)
 
“And let me guess,” Big Sister says.  “There’s a boy, lightheaded from all the air you sucked out of the stadium with your great bod and your big brain?”  She looks like the perfect Wave girl and when she tosses her baton up into the air it completely disappears.
 
“Most of us have to make do with one or the other,” I say.  And I don’t point out that she doesn’t fall into either category.  She's like the intersection of the two, bod and brain.  And then the baton lands in her hand. 

“I could show you that trick,” she says.  “And it’s a lot more fun than sitting on the sidelines.  Pouting.”