Brunettes Strike Back Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Teaser chapter

  BOYFRIEND PANIC

  Daniel looked at me, his eyes blank. I had absolutely no clue what he was thinking. I wanted to scream in total frustration. He was really going to make me say it.

  “Are you my boyfriend or what?” I blurted.

  Oh yeah. Way smooth, I chided myself. Why you’ve never had a boyfriend, Annisa, I do not understand.

  Daniel blinked. “Your boyfriend?” His voice squeaked. He couldn’t have looked more terrified if I’d just tossed him out of an airplane without a chute.

  “I’m just kidding,” I heard myself say as panic set in, jangling every organ in my body. I scrambled for the door handle. I had to get out of there. “I mean, you don’t have to answer that, I was just . . . you know . . . wondering. Not that it’s important, in fact, it’s not important. To me, I mean.” He was completely ashen at this point. “I don’t even want a boyfriend, you know? It’s, like, so yesterday, the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, right? I mean, hello? What am I, living in 1950? Just fit me for a poodle skirt and a beehive.”

  Did you just say “beehive”? Abort! Abort now!

  “I gotta go. Thanks for the ride!”

  And then I practically fell out of the car. By the time I got inside Chandra’s house, I felt like crumbling to the tile floor. Would a permanent voice box removal hinder my future as a cheerleader?

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  SPEAK

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700,

  Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

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  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,

  a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2006

  Published by Speak, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2007

  Copyright © Kieran Viola, 2006

  All rights reserved

  THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS EDITION AS FOLLOWS:

  Scott, Kieran, 1974-

  Brunettes strike back / Kieran Scott.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Still the only non-blonde on her Florida cheerleading squad,

  sixteen-year-old Annisa makes some decisions about how far she will go

  to fit in with her team while also staying true to herself.

  eISBN : 978-1-440-68429-6

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For some too-cool girls who always inspire:

  Jaimee, Sarah, Anna, Ashley, Roxanna and Samantha

  Special thanks to Sarah Burnes, agent extraordinaire,

  and to Jen Bonnell, the editor of my dreams.

  For their unwavering love, support and encouragement I would also like

  to thank my mom, my sister Erin, and my brother Ian.

  Special thanks to Shira, Wendy, Ally, Manisha, Raina, Lisa, Ryan and

  Liesa, all of whom believe in me way more than I deserve.

  Your enthusiasm fuels the fire.

  Most of all, eternal thanks to Matt, who keeps me going every day.

  You are the ultimate cheerleader.

  1

  “Go! Hey, here we go! Fighting! Crabs! Go!”

  I thrust my fist toward the sky and grinned as the cheers of the crowd reverberated through my bones. I was never going to get used to the fact that the fans at Sand Dune High actually cheered along with the cheerleaders. I was never going to get used to the fact that they actually showed up. Back at my old school in Jersey, we were lucky if the entire marching band materialized. Even though games were mandatory, they were always finding excuses to skip out on watching our team throw interceptions, run toward the wrong goal and eat mud for four quarters.

  “Go! Hey, here we go! Fighting! Crabs! Go!”

  I glanced at my friend Mindy McMahon out of the corner of my eye and she smiled back. We were having one of those moments. One of those perfect moments when you just know that everything is coming together. The crowd was totally psyched. The squad was on. Even the weather felt like football. It was a cool night for South Florida—we had topped out at sixty degrees (I know, shiver), but because it was chilly by Sand Dune standards, we had finally been allowed to wear our little mock turtlenecks under our cheerleading vests. Honestly, we had been looking forward to this all season.

  Meanwhile, on the football field behind us, the Sand Dune High School Fighting Crabs were taking on the West Wind Dolphins in the county championship game. It was the rematch of the century! Well, okay, the decade. Okay, maybe the month. But still, it was huge. You could taste the tension in the air. Or was that just the overboiled hot dog smell coming from West Wind’s snack bar?

  We finished the cheer and turned to watch the action. Instinctively my eyes darted to the game clock. The last time we had played against the Dolphins, our archrivals, we had lost because of a mess-up by the officials involving the clock. Apparently they didn’t know how to tell time. If anything went wrong tonight, this crowd was going to be grilling referee meat on the barbecue and serving it up for breakfast.

  Okay, that was gross. But people were really pissed off. Still. Even though that travesty had occurred weeks ago. After all, the total injustice of what happened at that game spurred our football players and cheerleaders to go out and vandalize West Wind High as a finale to our weeklong prank war—an act that had landed all of us in jail.

&
nbsp; Yes. Even me. Even though Mindy, Daniel Healy and I hadn’t actually participated in any destruction, and we had been trying to sneak out of there, the Five-O nabbed us and tossed us in the big house.

  Sorry. I hardly ever get to use words like that.

  But suffice it to say we all wanted to beat West Wind now, fair and square. We all wanted it big-time.

  “We have to get the ball back,” Chandra Albohm, one of my teammates and friends, said in my ear, her voice as gravelly as ever. Her curly blonde hair danced around her face as a cool wind kicked up around us. “We have to get the ball back now.”

  She was right. There was a minute left in the game. We were down by three points. The defense had to stop West Wind on the next play or it was over.

  I looked down the track at the rest of the squad, lined up like sentries, their little blonde heads all in a row. I, Annisa Gobrowski, was the sole brunette on the Sand Dune High School varsity cheerleading squad. Well, the sole brunette who hadn’t fallen victim to the peroxide fetish that abounds around here. Everyone stood with their feet apart, their hands behind their backs, holding their light blue and yellow poms. Everyone looked tense. Especially Tara Timothy, captain of the squad, our “fearless” (air-quote) leader.

  Tara was the only cheerleader breaking formation, totally bizarre for a stickler like her, but it had been happening a lot lately. She clutched both poms in one hand behind her back and with her other hand reached up and rubbed the tatty blue ribbon that was wrapped around her long blonde ponytail. Her lucky hair ribbon, as she was constantly reminding us. I glanced down at her feet and grimaced. The elastic in her “lucky” socks was all stretched out and the formerly white cotton had taken on a gray tinge. This girl was falling apart.

  The whistle blew out on the field. Time-out. I glanced at Chandra and Mindy. Right about now, Tara should be calling a cheer. Instead she was just rubbing her ribbon harder.

  “Um, Tara?” Jaimee Mulholland prompted. Jaimee was one of the juniors on the squad and she was next to Tara in the formation.

  “What?” Tara snapped, coming out of her trance.

  “We should be doing a cheer, right? ’Cause it’s a time-out?” Jaimee twirled her thick blonde ponytail nervously. “I mean, if you think we should.”

  Tara glanced around as if she was just now realizing where she was. “’Defense Get Tough’!” she shouted, turning toward the crowd. “Ready?”

  “Okay!” we all shouted.

  We executed the cheer, which ended with me and a couple of other girls up in double base extensions. I shook my poms as the crowd applauded, then dismounted into Mindy, Chandra and Autumn’s arms.

  “Okay, Miss Tara hasn’t changed her socks or her hair ribbons since we won regionals,” Chandra said under her breath.

  “She’s become a completely superstitious being,” Autumn Ross said, brushing a lock of her white-blonde hair back behind her ear. “It’s not healthy. Maybe we should stage an intervention. We could start her on a meditation program to help her de-stress. Oh! Or maybe she could use some acupuncture!”

  “Come on, it’s not that bad,” Mindy said, though she bit her lip when she noticed the socks.

  “I just hope she’s not doing the same with her underwear,” I joked.

  “Ew! Annisa!” Mindy wailed. She shoved me with her poms, but she and the others cracked up anyway.

  “Okay, if we win this game, then we’re going to win at nationals,” Tara said, loud enough for all of us to hear. Her two best friends, Whitney Barnard and Phoebe Cook, rolled their eyes behind her back. “No, we’ll place. We win this game and we’ll definitely place at nationals,” she amended.

  Sage Barnard, Whitney’s little sister, twirled her finger in a circle at her temple. A couple of the other girls cracked up. I had never liked Sage, but right then she had a point. Tara was making up her own superstitions now. The girl was bongo-bonkers.

  “Ladies!” Coach Holmes hissed from her spot under the bleachers. “Pay attention to the game, please!”

  We instantly did as we were told. Coach brings out the cadet in all of us.

  On the field West Wind called a play and Bobby Goow, Tara’s boyfriend and the team’s star defensive end, burst through the line and slammed the West Wind quarterback into the turf. Sack! It was exactly what we needed. I jumped up and down, screaming with the rest of the fans as Autumn threw her arms around me. West Wind would have to punt. We would get the ball back with fifty-one seconds to go!

  My heart pounded as West Wind lined up to punt the ball. At this point, we pretty much lost the will to stay in formation. Mindy, Autumn, Chandra, Jaimee and I huddled together, clutching hands, holding our breath with the rest of the Sand Dune fans. The ball arched through the air, end over end, and came down right in the hands of . . .

  Daniel Healy! My boyfriend! My boyfriend was going to have the chance to win the game!

  Well, my maybe-boyfriend. We hadn’t actually said the boyfriend/girlfriend words yet, but we would. Soon. I hoped. In my head he was already my boyfriend. But then, a lot of things go on inside my head.

  Anyway, now Daniel was running down the field. He dodged. He weaved. A huge West Wind player came flying toward him and Daniel ducked out of the way and stayed on his feet. The defender sailed right over Daniel and crashed into the ground. It was a total highlight-reel moment. I could just hear the SportsCenter theme music playing in my ear.

  “Oh my God! Go!” I shouted. “Go, Daniel! Run!”

  There was nothing but open field in front of him. Suddenly he was zooming across the fifty . . . the forty . . . the thirty.

  “Go! Go! Go!” we screamed, jumping up and down.

  There was only one defender anywhere near him. The guy reached out to grab Daniel’s jersey just as he crossed into the end zone, but Terrell Truluck appeared out of nowhere and took him out. Crack! A sweet block. And Daniel was in! Touchdown!

  “Touchdown, number thirty-two, Daniel Healy!” The announcer called out as the entire team huddled and jumped and thrust their helmets into the air. Daniel and Terrell jumped up and smacked chests, celebrating. I hugged everybody in sight. We were up by three! We could really win this one!

  Adam Rider kicked the extra point and now all we had to do was stop West Wind on the next play. They would have one shot for a Hail Mary. One shot to beat us.

  Adam kicked the ball off. The entire squad was huddled together. Tara rubbed her ribbon like it was Aladdin’s lamp. Some guy on West Wind caught the ball. If he could do what Daniel had just done, West Wind would win. But Bobby wasn’t having any of it. He raced upfield and before the returner had taken a step, Bobby smacked into him head-on, drilling him into the ground.

  Time ran out. And the world pretty much exploded.

  “We won! We won!” Jaimee shouted in my ear.

  The entire football team rushed the field. The Sand Dune stands emptied out in a wave of insanity. Everyone was hugging me and screaming and twirling around. The band was playing “Nah nah nah nah! Nah nah nah nah! Hey, hey, hey! Good-bye!” Which was exactly what the West Wind fans had chanted at us when they had beaten us last time. So there.

  Flashbulbs popped. Someone was taking a ton of pictures and purple dots floated across my vision. All I could think was, I have to find Daniel! He’s the hero! My maybe-boyfriend is the hero of the county championship!

  I spun around in the crowd and there he was, looking right at me from midfield as his teammates slapped his back and celebrated around him. His hair was matted to his head with sweat and his face was smudged with dirt and grime. My heart stopped and then slammed into my rib cage in total elation. In that split second I imagined the movie moment in my mind. I would jump into his arms. He would lift me off my feet and twirl me around, my cheerleading pleats flying . . . .

  “Daniel!”

  Out of nowhere, Sage raced across the field and into Daniel’s arms. Suddenly I was watching the movie reel exactly as I had imagined it, but I had been bumped from the starring role.
Daniel laughed as he hugged Sage and swept her off her feet. Her blonde hair bounced like a shampoo ad as she clutched him in blatant adoration. Daniel wasn’t hugging me. He was hugging his evil ex. My heart dried up like a tomato in the sun.

  How could he hug her? They were broken up! And she had treated him like dirt, cheating on him with my very own brother in front of a house party full of people! And hello? He was supposed to be hugging me!

  I had been crushing on Daniel since the moment I met him on my first day of school, and it had almost killed me when I found out he was dating Miss Britney-Clone, Sage Barnard. Okay, that may be overstating it, but still. I had pined from afar until she cheated and they broke up. I was all ready to be a shoulder to cry on for him, but then he admitted to me that he had been thinking about breaking up with her for a while. Eureka! And soon we were becoming maybe-boyfriend-and-girlfriend.

  So I ask again, why was he hugging her?

  “Annisa!”

  Terrell Truluck—wide receiver, friend of Daniel’s, thrower of sick blocks—stepped out of the crowd. He had a white streak of yard-line powder on the dark skin of his forearm and his shaved head was glistening.

  “Whooooo! We did it!” he shouted, grabbing me up in a hug. I hugged him back, letting him swing me around, and forced a smile. With his movie-star smile and deep brown eyes, Terrell was pretty much a lock to win best-looking in his class, so if I couldn’t hug Daniel, I supposed he wasn’t a bad substitute.

  “Great game!” I told him as he put me down again.

  And then Daniel was there at my side. “Not as great as this playah!” Terrell shouted, slapping hands with Daniel. Daniel grinned and they did the manly, one-armed hug thing before Daniel finally, finally stepped up to me and enveloped me in his arms.

  He smelled like a gym sock. His jersey was soaked through. Some mud rubbed off on my cheek. Still, I had never felt so relieved.

  “You do realize you just won the game,” I said to him. “You personally.”

  Daniel grinned sheepishly. “Nah. It was a team effort.”