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homeroom.
    It was a good thing she did, too. Otherwise I might have stood in the hall for hours.
    I was in a daze. Me, Stacey McGill, a cheerleader? How weird. How . . . fabulous!
    Here's why it was weird: I'd never seen real live cheerleaders before I came to Stoney-brook. My school in New York City didn't have them. Cheerleading was frowned on. Girls preferred having their own teams to cheering for the boys.
    That always made sense to me. It still does.
    Besides, pleated skirts, pom-poms, and white bucks are not exactly my style.
    But let's face facts. What's cool in one place is not necessarily cool in another. And being a cheerleader in Stoneybrook was definitely cool. Just being friends with the cheerleaders made me feel good.
    And if I became a cheerleader — just if — I could be closer to Robert.
    I spent the rest of the morning on a cloud. I wondered how hard those cheerleading moves were. In gym class, before we started exercises, I quietly went into a corner and tried to do a split.
    There's a good reason they call it a split. Wow, did it hurt. If I was going to try out, I would need to work hard.
    I decided to keep quiet about tryouts. I would practice a little, maybe ask someone to help me. If I turned out to be too much of a klutz, I would just skip tryouts, no harm done.
    I did not mention anything to the other members of the BSC at lunch. I wanted to tell them about Robert, but what if he never called me? That would be awkward.
    So I was Silent Stacey for the rest of the day, even though my heart was pounding.
    When I got home, I could barely concentrate
    on my homework. I was in the middle of a math problem when the phone rang.
    My hand tightened. I broke the point on my pencil. My chair almost fell over as I ran to the phone.
    "Hello!" I cried, feeling like a balloon ready to burst.
    "Good afternoon, this is the Cine-Home Pay Cable Network," said a voice. "This month we're offering a free hook-up to new subscribers. . . ."
    Fffffffffff. I could feel my air slowly leaking out. I called my mom at work, and asked her to take care of the call.
    A few minutes later the phone rang again. This time it was Claudia, asking if she could borrow a barrette.
    Call Number Three was from one of Mom's friends.
    Calls Number Four and Five were for Rupert Peebles. We get his calls from time to time. Mom figured out that he must have been the person who had our phone number before we did.
    I started my math homework at 4:30. Now, math is my very favorite subject, but by 5:24, I was still staring at the third problem (of twenty). It was the absolute latest I could remain in the house and still reach the BSC meeting in time.
    I ran downstairs, found my coat, and raced out the door.
    I was halfway to the sidewalk when I heard . . . rinnnnnng.
    It was 5:26. Kristy was going to kill me if I was late for the meeting. Nevertheless, you know in those Road Runner cartoons, when you hear a pshoooo sound and the Road Runner disappears in a cloud of dust? Well, that was me. I was in the house instantly.
    I ran to the kitchen. I stopped by the phone and collected myself. Then I calmly picked up the receiver and dropped it.
    Clunk!
    I scooped it off the floor. "Hello?" I said. "Sorry!"
    I heard the most wonderful laugh on the other end of the phone. "That's okay, I have another ear."
    It was Robert! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Hi, Robert," was the only brilliant reply I could think of.
    "Hi. What a game Saturday, huh?"
    "It was great! Especially that . . . that jump shot you made near the end! You're very good." .
    Robert laughed again. "'Well, not as good as Malik or Wayne. Those guys are naturals. I have to work hard to do half what they do."
    Cute and modest. What a rare combination
    in a boy. "Well, you looked pretty good to me," I said.
    "Thanks. So did you — I mean, you know, it was great to see you."
    "Uh-huh. Me, too. It was great to see you." This conversation was painful. I sounded like a parrot.
    "So, um, I guess