Read Dead Is the New Black for Free Online

said. "It's a closed tryout." She gave me a knowing look. "Ryan Mendez won't be judging your cartwheels today."
    "What is that supposed to mean?"
    "It's all over school," she said, but then glanced at her watch. "We're late."
    "What's all over school?" I asked.
    But she ignored the question and instead grabbed my arm and pointed me toward the gym. "Go change. You have about thirty seconds."
    I found myself running toward the gym.
    "It'll be fun," she hollered after me. "You'll see. We're a nice group of girls, if you get to know us."
    The problem was, I did know Samantha, at least I thought I did. And I didn't trust her one little bit. Her words had been comforting, though, and unlocked the paralyzing fright that had washed over me at the thought of deliberately drawing attention to myself.
    I threw on my P.E. uniform, which was wrinkled and slightly pungent. I thanked my lucky stars that Ryan wouldn't be seeing this debacle.
    Then a thought occurred to me. What if Samantha was setting me up? Call me paranoid, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd punked me. What if I tried out and it was just some big joke? Miss Foster had talked to me about joining, but that didn't mean this tryout was real.
    So I tiptoed down the hall and opened the gym door just a crack.
    Samantha had been telling the truth. No letter jackets in sight. Miss Foster, Mr. Amador, and what was left of the cheer squad were sitting at a long table. In front of them was a row of girls, most of whom looked as scared as I felt.
    I slipped in next to Penny Edwards, who gave me a confident smile, then gave the thumbs-up to Samantha, who ignored her. Penny wore black from the top of her dyed hair to the Chucks she wore on her feet. She also rattled a little when she moved. I squinted and noticed what looked like chicken bones in her hair. At least I hoped they were chicken bones. The rest of the girls were wearing designer sweats or butt cuts and silky camisoles (mostly in black, the color of choice these days), outfits to enhance their attractiveness. I looked like I was wearing gym clothes that had been in my locker for two weeks, which I was.
    I stood there for the next half hour while Samantha called out names. She consulted her clipboard officially, which was bogus, because Nightshade High was a small school. There were only a hundred people in our class. I'd bet money she knew the name and probably the bra size of every girl standing there.
    I stretched while the other girls tried out. She finally called my name. Last, of course. I had pent-up energy to burn, so I started out with a couple of round offs and then went into a midair toe touch. I ended with a split. My muscles protested a little, but I ignored them. I stood up to show them what else I had (not much), when Miss Foster stopped me.
    "Thank you, Daisy," she said. "I believe we've seen enough."
    Samantha added, "Thank you all for coming. The results will be posted today after school."
    I stood there and fumed. It had to be a joke. I'd barely had the chance to warm up before my tryout was over. I waited until everyone else had left and then walked over to Samantha.
    "Thanks a lot," I said. "Why even bother having me try out? You knew I was nervous and you made me go last."
    My voice sounded whiny, even to my own ears, but Samantha answered me patiently. "I had you try out because you're the best we've got. And I made you go last because it wouldn't be fair to the other girls if I hadn't. Some of them haven't had eight years of gymnastics, Daisy. If I had let you go first, it would have intimidated girls like Penny, who never even took basic tumbling."
    "Oh, okay," I said, feeling a tiny bit ashamed for snapping at her.
    My stomach growled loudly. Samantha stared at me.
    "I know, I know. Cheerleaders don't eat lunch."
    She bent down and rifled through her coffin. My eye was drawn to the necklace she'd worn ever since she came back from summer vacation a changed girl. It looked old—ancient even. The